So, I’m in Uyo, two days before the big game against Zimbabwe, not for the match itself, but for the ‘real’ action—the media parley.
You know, that glorious two-hour window where the Super Eagles players step out of their fortress, and we, the media, get to rub shoulders with them. No stiff press conferences, no coach hovering like a hawk—just pure, unfiltered access.
Sounds like a dream, right? It turned into a big disappointment, thanks to one man: Eric Chelle. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
The Mission: Media Parley or Bust
The media parley is the holy grail for journalists like me. It’s not your run-of-the-mill press conference where the coach drones on about “taking it one game at a time” while two players nod. No, this is where the players let their guard down, crack jokes, and maybe—maybe—drop a juicy tidbit or two. That’s why I was in Uyo on Sunday, not Monday. I had it all planned out.
I’d spoken to Promise Efoge, the team’s media officer, the night before. “Promise, my guy,” I said, “Ufuoma and I will be there. Just let us know the time and place.” He promised (pun intended) to run it by the coach and get back to me. Fast forward to Sunday morning, and Ufuoma breaks the news: Promise had posted in the Super Eagles WhatsApp group that Coach Chelle had axed the parley. His reason? “Total concentration. No distractions.”
Total concentration? Bruh, it’s two hours out of 96 that the team will spend in Uyo! This won’t hurt anybody. But more on that later.
The Sleepy Trip
Now, let’s talk about the journey to Uyo. Thanks to my sleep disorder, I’m like a vampire—awake at ungodly hours and dead to the world when the sun’s up. After a long day of driving on Saturday, I accidentally passed out at 9 pm. Big mistake. By 1 am, I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling like a zombie. What did I do? Binge ‘Squid Game 2’, of course. Nothing says “relaxation” like watching people fight to the death over a game of marbles. Hehe!
By dawn, I was on the move. First stop: my office to grab two bottles of brandy (priorities, people). Then, it was off to Ufuoma’s house, where I parked my car, and then we booked a ride to Waterlines where to meet Kingsley Olisa. None of us wanted to drive to Uyo, so we piled into a Toyota Sienna and hit the road. Besides, the SWAN (Sports Writers Association of Nigeria) bus would be in Uyo on Monday, so mobility would be assured. I slept like a baby—until we hit the army checkpoint at the Abia-Akwa Ibom border.
You know the drill: everyone gets out, and walks past the soldiers. The driver, clearly not a fan of small talk, muttered, “These same soldiers couldn’t save the owner of Sobaz Petrol Station from kidnappers.”
Uyo
We arrived in Uyo and called Joe, our trusty ride, to pick us up. After a quick shopping run for our three-day stay, we checked into the hotel. Meanwhile, Carl Orakwue was making his way from Onitsha, clueless about what to expect. Pro tip: if you’re ever in Uyo, the food at Market Square is wonderful. I’m convinced the chef was trying to punish us for something.
Carl finally joined us at the hotel, and by 6 pm, we were starving. Joe took us to Discovery Park for dinner, where we ran into Olalekan Ige, Peter Abaje, and Mba Kalu. These guys turned dinner into a political debate club. We discussed everything from the State of Emergency to Sim Fubara’s survival odds. At one point, I had to yell, “Enough politics! Let’s talk about something light, like… I don’t know, the weather?”
Spoiler: they ignored me.
They continued to discuss Fubara’s chances of survival. What would the new administrator do? When would he appoint commissioners? Was he going to appoint commissioners? What about the current negotiations going on? What did Wike want? What does Fubara want? Who wins this? What happens in 2027?
Why, Chelle, Why?
Now, back to the man of the hour: Eric Chelle. Look, I get it. Coaching the Super Eagles is no walk in the park. You’ve got six matches to win, and a single draw could spell disaster. But here’s the thing: denying us the media parley? That’s like canceling Christmas because you’re too busy wrapping presents.
Two hours out of 96, Coach? Two hours. The players are not robots—they can handle a little mingling. And let’s be real, if a two-hour chat with the media is enough to derail their focus, maybe we’ve got bigger problems.
So, Coach Chelle, I ask you: Why? Why rob us of the parley? We’ve got a job to do too, you know this. But it is your call. We all want the Eagles at the World Cup and you will do what you have to do. Good luck, coach.
The Verdict
In the end, the first day in Uyo was equal parts thrilling, frustrating, and hilarious. From unique food to political debates to a canceled parley, it was a rollercoaster of emotions. But hey, that’s the life of a sports journalist. You win some, you lose some, and sometimes, you just laugh it off.
Coach Chelle, if you’re reading this: next time, let the parley happen. The players will survive, and so will you. And who knows? You might even get a few laughs out of it.
