Principal's Cup Ticket | The Ink Well Creative Nonfiction #67

Muyiwa strolled behind me like an orderly who just got employed to watch over a boss, timid and afraid of what the bouncers at the gate would say or do to us. Though I am not a big breed with a broad chest and hoarse voice, my name rings like lightning in the Ajebo town where I grew up. No! It's not what you think. I wasn't a tout. I speak for the weak and ensure that corruption in our local community is not shoved under the carpet.

Maxim Titov

As we approached the stadium gate to watch the final match of the principal cup competition between my alma mater and CMS Grammar School, one of the bouncers halted me:

Hey you, stop there! Where is your ticket?

He demanded stretching for his right hand with a glove on like a MotoGP rider. Then, I reached for my ticket from my chest pocket and presented it to him. From the gate, I could hear the supporters club of each of the schools beating drums and singing to arouse the crowd and motivate their players. At once, I felt the frenzy of the atmosphere within the stadium. With the bouncer still browsing through my ticket, I became impatient because of the sounds from inside the stadium. His voice reawakened my consciousness:

This ticket is fake. Where did you get it from?

The question left me confused. Though there were many outlets where one could get the ticket, mine was a gift from my classmate, Jeff who works with the sports commission as a cleaner.
Before I could say Jack, the police officers who were stationed at the gate got closer and surrounded me like a common criminal. Muyiwa took some steps backward and moved out of sight as Peter did to Jesus.

What's fake about the ticket?

I asked, trying to prove a point.

The ticket for this match is in blue only. How did you come about a red ticket? If you do not leave this place at once, you may be charged with forgery.

This got me shivering like someone who has been clamped down by Malaria. I couldn't find the right words to say. My mind started strolling toward what a prison experience could look like. While I kept my mind busy, a thought just flashed through my head and my mouth found strength again.

This ticket was given to me by the Sports Commission and it is not for regular spectators.

I saw the police officers withdraw into their uniforms like snails when they saw that the tickets were for senior citizens. They must have felt that I was highly connected to have the ticket with me.

Oga, you are not meant to take this gate. Kindly move toward the east end of the stadium, there is a special entrance for this kind of ticket.

My shoulders rose naturally. I turned majestically and walked toward the east wing of the stadium where VIPs were being attended to. At this point, Muyia had probably seen that I was not in any kind of trouble. He got nearer, sweating on his forehead, and smiled at me.

See you, chicken-hearted Warri boy.

I said to Muyiwa who had kept his distance when he saw that the bouncers and the police officers tried to query how I came about the ticket.

Bros, I was very afraid. I thought you were going to be arrested. At least, it would be fine if I went to report at home what had transpired instead of the two of us being locked up.

He was right though. But I haven't done anything that would have warranted that I should be arrested.

Andrzej Mucka

We arrived at the east wing gate and I was received, gentlemanly. The only thing was that Muyiwa was not allowed in with me as the ticket could only take one spectator in. It felt so bad that he was not allowed in with me. I had to dip my hand in my pocket to give him the exact fee meant to enter the stadium through the regular spectator's pavilion.

That was the first time ever I would be getting to watch a football match on a paid ticket. It used to be that I watched at home via the television or on an open field where it is free. That first experience on a paid ticket is awesome because I got to meet other dignitaries at the VIP stand and it has never been the same.