IT WAS A DREAM COME TRUE AT HALFTIME

It was a dream come true at halftime. You could see the exhilaration on everyone’s face and it prompted us to take pictures in a jubilant mood. Remember the match was not over yet. We bounced back on pitch all pumped up to win and give joy to our beloved 2^nd year class supporters even if it meant putting our bodies on the line. Before I continue on how the second half turned out, I still lay back on my bed and see the many beautiful things we did in the first half. The dribbles, the tackles, the pin point passing in the final third, the interceptions… oh me and Mugerwa were brilliant in the middle of the pitch. We had squeezed them almost to suffocation. I particularly remember the tackle I made on one of their most potent players, dispossessing him and launching an attack that should have produced a goal had it not been our lack of urgency in front of goal. We had waves and waves of attack but somehow didn’t score more than one goal, the only goal that came courtesy of the flamboyant ayrone, our number 10.  The game was so easy at the moment, confidence was sky-high and we knew this was surely our day. Everything was smooth and cool as you like until the referee blew for second half period. Even so, in the first ten minutes we still played with that feeling of camaraderie, put our best foot forward and made surging runs in search of a goal. And then it happened. The mistake that cost us a goal. As a result of failure to clear the ball from our defence, one of their players pounced on the ball and slotted in their first. I knew we would come back and score more goals. Not when I looked on the touch line and I was being signalled to come off. I remember one of our players (name withheld) urging me to stay on the pitch;

 “Do they think that we have already won the match, stay on let them sort themselves out.”

Then we played on for some five minutes still a strong coherent side. When I was signaled again, I was quick to comply and I told myself as I strode off the pitch ‘if it is my substitution that is needed to win this game, so be it. After all I will start the next game when am fresh’. Mugerwa confessed to me after the game that when he saw me being substituted, he felt like crying. I was his insurance ticket, I gave him freedom to roam forward and cause havoc without minding about defensive duties. He too was like water in the desert for me because I did not have to worry so much about helping in attack. My role was to cover for him which I did splendidly. No wonder our strikers could afford to miss chances but there was always some optimism that the second goal was coming. Life after my substitution was hard. The lad who replaced me played a nice game but there was no longer that assurance in possession, that calmness on pitch, and to be fair to him, he did a little too much. Getting himself sucked into the opponent’s game, chasing every ball, they were happy to pass it around so easily. We barely had the ball in the second half. Our players still pushed on and on but the tables had turned. They had gotten to our Achilles heel and that was ‘panic’ on our side. We no longer played our game. Our substitutes were flowing in but to no avail. We still managed to hit the bar and forced two saves from their keeper. But for most of the time, our backs were on the wall. The final straw was when they scored their second goal. ‘What happened to our first half mentality’ I thought to myself on the touchline now seeing the game in the players’ lenses. I could see they were fazed and rattled. The more they tried to assert themselves on the game, individually, the more we lost the ball. We no longer played tag team. It was ‘me’ and what I can do to help my team win. And that is what cost us the game. That sweet cherry taste of victory.