Pitch Warriors

Episode 1: The Beginning

A boy named Tunde was playing football barefoot on the dusty streets, skillfully dribbling past his friends. The afternoon sun was high, casting long shadows on the ground. Suddenly, he glanced at the old wristwatch on his hand. His eyes widened.

Tunde: "Ah! Time don go!"

Without hesitation, he grabbed his worn-out slippers and dashed toward home. As he entered the small, crowded house, he greeted his parents.

Tunde: "Good afternoon, Mama. Good afternoon, Baba."

His father, Baba Tunde, sat on a wooden stool, looking exhausted from a long day. His mother, Mama Tunde, lay on a thin mattress in the corner, coughing weakly. She had been ill for months, her strength fading little by little.

Baba Tunde: "Tunde, you don come? You know say time no dey. Go bring the water quick."

Tunde nodded, grabbed a large plastic bowl filled with pure water sachets, and ran outside. The streets were busy, filled with honking cars, shouting traders, and people going about their daily business. He weaved through the crowd, balancing the bowl carefully.

Tunde: "Pure water! Cold pure water!"

Soon, customers approached him.

Customer 1 (a sweaty man in a suit): "Give me three, abeg." (Hands him ₦150.)

Customer 2 (a market woman): "Small boy, bring two for me." (Hands him ₦100.)

Customer 3 (a schoolboy): "I fit buy one?"

Tunde: "Yes na, ₦50 only." (Hands him a sachet.)

After selling all the water, he counted the crumpled notes in his pocket and hurried home. Inside, he handed the money to his father.

Tunde: "Baba, see money wey I make today."

Baba Tunde sighed, looking at his sick wife.

Baba Tunde: "God bless you, my son. Your mama go dey alright."

But Tunde knew his mother was not getting better. She had tuberculosis, and the cough was getting worse. The medicine they could afford wasn’t helping much.

The next morning, as the sun rose over the neighborhood, Tunde was back outside, playing football with his friends, escaping his worries—at least for a little while.

Friend 1: "Tunde, pass the ball!"

Friend 2: "This boy sabi play ball well-well!"

Tunde smiled as he kicked the ball forward, knowing that despite the struggles, football was the one thing that made him feel free.

Episode 2: A Dream Through Tears

The sun blazed over the neighborhood as Tunde dribbled the ball skillfully, weaving between his friends on the makeshift football field. The laughter and shouts of excitement filled the air, momentarily making him forget his struggles.

Suddenly, his older sister, Kemi, came running toward him. Her clothes were dusty from a long day of selling goods outside the town. Behind her, their younger sister, Ada, followed, looking tired. Tunde stopped playing when he saw their faces.

Kemi (panting): "Tunde... Tunde... Mama don go."

Tunde’s heart stopped. His chest tightened.

Tunde (shaking his head): "No... no... Kemi, no say that kind thing."

Kemi wiped her sweaty forehead, trying to hold back her own tears.

Kemi (voice breaking): "She don leave us, Tunde. Baba say we no fit do anything again. She don go rest."

Ada sniffled, holding Kemi’s hand. The weight of the words hit Tunde like a hammer. He dropped his ball and ran. He didn’t know where—he just ran. Past the small houses, past the dusty roads, past the market filled with noisy traders. He found himself at the quiet end of the street and collapsed on his knees.

Tears streamed down his face, but he clenched his fists.

Tunde (whispering): "I no go cry. I no go cry."

He picked up his football and started kicking it against the wall. Harder and harder, as if the pain in his heart could be kicked away. But it didn’t leave.

That evening, as he walked home, something caught his eye—a poster on a wooden pole. He stepped closer and read it carefully.

"YOUTH FOOTBALL TOURNAMENT!

Ages 10-12

Win a chance to join a football academy!

Tryouts this Saturday!"

His heart pounded. A chance? A real chance?

He thought about his mother, about his father struggling, about Kemi and Ada working hard every day. He couldn’t stop her from dying. He couldn’t change the past. But maybe, just maybe, football could change his future.