I have this merry band of about twelve adventurous football lovers, and all we do—rain or shine—is travel across Nigeria to watch football matches. We’re not tourists. We’re football pilgrims. Our identity cards? Matchday tickets or accreditation tags. Our compass? The Nigeria Premier Football League calendar.
Over the past year, our boots (well, sneakers) have pounded the stadium steps of Uyo more times than we can count. We’ve witnessed the Super Eagles in action, supported Akwa United, Rivers United, Enugu Rangers, and, of course, the ever-passionate Enyimba. We’ve even made a noisy entrance in Yenagoa to see Bayelsa United. Enugu? Done. Ikenne? Absolutely—we couldn’t miss Remo Stars, could we?
Our squad isn’t just made up of idle fans. We’ve got radio broadcasters, businessmen, club owners, coaches, and player agents. Our WhatsApp group? A beehive of madness and magic. We plan trips, analyse matches like armchair tacticians, share juicy inside stories, and occasionally test our betting luck with the kind of confidence that would make José Mourinho nod in approval.
A New Season, A New Itch
Now, with a new season peeking just around the corner, the travel bug has bitten again. The Nigeria Premier Football League is revving up. CAF Champions League and Confederation Cup fixtures await. Rivers United, Abia Warriors, Kwara United, and Remo Stars are all set to fly the flag—and we’re plotting our routes like seasoned generals.
The questions have started rolling in: “Where do we go first?” “Which game has the most spice?” “Which team promises drama, goals, and a little bit of scandal?” We’re not just picking matches for fun—there’s a method to the madness: rivalry, technical flair, tactical intrigue, and yes, how close the best suya joint is to the stadium.
Some choices are easy—Super Eagles games are gospel. We go. No arguments. But when it comes to league and continental matches, it’s always a debate. Sometimes civil, sometimes brutal. But always fun.
But Our Clubs Have No Home
And here’s the real issue—the reason this piece had to be written: our clubs have no true home. Rivers United will host their home games in Uyo because the Adokiye Amiesimaka Stadium in Port Harcourt is… not it. Let’s be honest, naming what looks like an abandoned warehouse after a national legend like Adokiye Amiesimaka? That’s almost insulting.
Abia Warriors, on the other hand, currently have what can best be described as a potato farm where a football pitch should be. Their stadium seems built more for town hall meetings than competitive football. And CAF agrees—it’s a no-go for continental matches.
Kwara United? Nowhere near Ilorin. They’ll likely rent a room in Ikenne from Remo Stars. And guess what? Even Remo Stars—perhaps the most organised of the bunch—might have to relocate again if they make it to the CAF Champions League group stages. It’s a tragic comedy.
Why Chase Glory Without a Home?
It begs the question: why do these government-owned clubs fight so hard—spend hundreds of millions of naira in public funds—to win the league or FA Cup, when they know they have nowhere to host continental matches? Why isn’t a proper, CAF-compliant 10,000-seater stadium part of the plan? You qualify for a prestigious tournament, but your fans can’t watch you at home. It’s a bizarre paradox.
It’s almost like buying a new car and parking it in a forest because you don’t have a garage.
As we plot our journeys again this season, we can’t help but shake our heads. State governments and club owners must do better. The first thing any football club needs is not just players—it’s a place to play. A home. The heart of a club isn’t just the badge or the fans. It’s the stadium. The sacred ground. The fortress.
A Travelling Circus, But No Big Top
Until then, the Vagabond FC Travel Crew will keep moving. We’ll cheer in empty stadiums, shout ourselves hoarse, and keep the faith alive. But deep down, we long for a day when Nigerian clubs can boast of real home grounds—venues that ignite pride, passion, and purpose.
For now, our country’s football clubs are wandering souls—nomads in their own land. May the road rise to meet them… and may someone, somewhere, finally build a proper stadium.
Safe travels to all of us. And yes, save me a seat near the jollof rice vendor.
