TUESDAY. 8:00 AM. THE CRYSTAL GARDEN HOTEL.
Uhhhh!. Sometimes I hate my life as a player and other times I enjoy it. This is one of the latter. I mean, that is if we exclude the nonsense of yesterday. The room was freezing. The AC was humming a low, expensive tune that made the journey heat we experienced feel like a distant memory. I was buried under a duvet that actually felt like a cloud, my ribs finally resting in a position that didn't make me want to retire from life.
I looked over. Jace was sprawled out on his back, looking like a corpse in designer boxers. Jensen, on the other hand, was currently tangled in his sheets, muttering something about a 'three-pointer' in his sleep. I hate that he still looked perfect even when sleeping, that bastard looked majestic.
As the devil will have it, not even up to to ten seconds, we heard a loud bang on the door.
Coach John: (Voice muffled but stern through door) you idiots!, Wake up!. If I don't see you in the lobby in fifteen minutes, you're getting it from me.
Jensen: (Bolting upright) Is it a fire?!
Me: (Sighing, sitting up slowly) were you born from negativity?. How's that your first thought?
Jace: (Opening one eye) first thing in the morning and you're already taking digs.
Me: first thing in the morning and you're already throwing false accusations.
We spent the next three minutes in silence, Jensen just staring at the ceiling, Jace covering his body with the duvet, me just been tired of life. We just sat there in the expensive silence of the room, enjoying the fact that for the first time in 24 hours, nothing was rattling or dusty.
Coach John: (banging on the door) I hope you idiots have finished preparing
Jensen: (silently) fuck my life
Me: (chuckling) I may.
***8:05 AM. THE BATHROOM***
Fifteen minutes. We had fifteen minutes, and Jensen was currently occupying the bathroom like he was preparing for a Met Gala instead of a hostile training session in Nnewi, and you guys wonder why I always complain.
I was leaning against the doorframe, watching him pull a small, expensive-looking bottle out of his travel kit.
Me: (Blinking) Is that... serum?. Jensen, we are in a race against a man who looks like he eats glass for breakfast, and you're applying face chemicals?
Jensen: (Not even looking at me, focused on the mirror) It's an antioxidant barrier, Keima. The dust in this state is disrespectful to my pores. And don't act like you aren't jealous that I woke up looking like a Greek god while you look like you were just dug up from a shallow grave.
Me: (Rubbing my face) I look like a guy who's been hit by a bus and then slept in a freezer. Because I am. Now get out of the way, I need to wash the sleep out of my eyes.
Jensen: (Sarcastic smirk, dabbing his face) Beauty takes time, wonder kid. Maybe if you spent five minutes on a routine, you wouldn't always wonder to yourself why I look divine.
Me: (Voice flat) first of all fuck you for calling me that. Secondly, fuck you for insulting my non-existent face routine. Thirdly what the fuck is antioxidant barrier?, sounds like shit you'll see in a fantasy movie.
Jace: (From the bed, voice muffled by a pillow) Can you both just shut up and drown?. I'm trying to pretend I don't exist for three more minutes.
Jensen: (Ignoring him, reaching for another bottle) See?, Jace gets it. Silence is a virtue. Now, move your elbow, you're crowding my light.
Me: (Groaning) Your light? Jensen, it's a hotel bathroom. Just splash water on your face and move!. Coach is going to actually kill us.
Jensen: He can't kill the face of the NCHSBA, Kei. It's bad for the brand.
Me: the face of the brand I'm about to reconstruct.
After three more painful minutes of his nonsense he finally stepped aside, but not before checking his hair from three different angles. I pushed past him, grabbing a washcloth and wondering if it was too early in the day to pray for a season-ending injury that didn't involve me.
Jace: (Finally standing up, walking toward the bathroom like a zombie) My turn. Both of you, out.
Me: Finally, a voice of reason.
Jensen: (Walking toward his suitcase, whistling) Whatever. I look incredible. Good luck with... whatever it is you're doing to your face, Keima.
***8:15 AM. THE LOBBY.***
We managed to make it down by 8:14. It took a tactical sprint though. Jensen was still smoothing his hair as the lift doors opened, looking like he'd just stepped out of a catalog, while I was still trying to remember how to breathe without my ribs sending a complaint to my brain.
The lobby was a massive marble floor that polished your reflection and gold-trimmed pillars. It felt way too elegant for the mood Coach John was in. He was standing near the grand staircase, arms folded, staring at his watch. The rest of the team was gathered in a ragged semi-circle, looking like a bunch of hungover idiots.
Coach John: (Looking at us as we approached) Nice of the Royalties to finally join us. Jensen, I see your hair survived the night. I assume the rest of you are equally prepared to actually work?
Jensen: (Flashing a winning smile) Always, Coach.
Coach John: Save the charm for the cameras. Fall in.
He didn't waste time. He did a quick head count, his eyes lingering on my taped side for a second longer than I liked, but he didn't say anything.
Coach John: Listen up. We are in Jarquin territory now. Yesterday was a mess, but today is prep. We eat, we recover, we prepare. Don't let the luxury of this hotel make you soft. The court we're heading to later doesn't have an AC.
He turned on his heel, gesturing toward the double glass doors leading to the dining wing.
Coach John: Restaurant. Now. Move like you actually have a semi-final in twenty-four hours!
***8:25 AM. THE EXECUTIVE RESTAURANT.***
The dining hall was quiet, filled with the soft clinking of silver against china. We were led to a long table in the corner, away from the other guests who were probably wondering why twenty tall teenagers were invading their peace.
A waiter in a crisp white shirt began bringing out trays of sliced bread, butter, and steaming pots of tea.
Jensen: (Looking at the spread) Finally. I was about to start eating the upholstery in the lift.
Jace: (Pulling a chair out) It's just bread and tea, Jensen. Relax.
Me: (what the fuck does upholstery even mean) don't hold it to him. He's forgetting it's just the standard pre-game fuel. Simple carbs, quick energy. Though I'm sure he was expecting a three-course brunch with avocado toast.
Jensen: (Spreading butter with surgical precision) I mean, that doesn't sound half bad. Avocado is a necessary fat.
Me: yeah yeah, necessary indeed.
Jensen: you're normally slow. Don't mock what you don't understand.
Jace: shut up and just eat , please.
Jensen: I know. I'll try to settle for this... 'artisan' loaf for now.
Artisan?. I swear on my life this is literally just Agege bread from a five-star kitchen. They're just using the expensive asthtics vibes. Every one were eating like they were dining with the queen of England, sip a lil tea, and take a bite. Not me though, I was my dipping and soaking my bread in that tea, fuck etiquette. Although it became depressing when Jensen thought It looked fun and joined me, leave it to him to ruin the little things I love.
Jace: (Leaning in, voice low) You think they'll really try to screw us over at the court today?
Me: who?
Jace: Jarquin
Me: (Watching the steam rise from my cup) It's the semi-final, Jace. A single leg where they have the home advantage. If the janitor doesn't go missing, the hoops will be crooked. If the hoops are straight, the floor will be slippery.
Jensen: (Smirking) Let them try.
Me: I enjoy when you speak with confidence. But maybe let's pray for them to not try at all.
Jensen: you're no longer fun
Me: sorry, I'm tired of being fun.
***9:30 AM. THE POOL AREA.***
I hate coach too, who the hell goes for swimming after eating?. Coach claimed it's a way to cool our nerves and body after yesterday, but that can also be settled with sleep. Well whatever, time to dickride the pool.
The pool was a massive, seamless sheet of sapphire blue that seemed to spill directly off the edge of the hotel building. It was an infinity style masterpiece, designed so perfectly that the water's edge looked like it was merging with the green canopy of the Nnewi hills in the distance. This pool mixed in the two things I can't stand, water and height.
Jensen: (Already at the edge, dropping his towel) last one in is a Jarquin fan!
He executed a perfect dive, barely making a splash. Jace followed with a powerful stride, cutting through the water like he was born in it. I stood by the steps, clutching my towel like a shield.
Me: common sense suggest that I should stay exactly where the water meets the concrete.
Jensen: (Surfacing, shaking his hair out) Come on, Kei. The nurse said the water tension helps the ribs. It's proven science
Me: Science also says humans don't have gills, Jensen. Leave me alone
Jace: (looking at me) you can't swim?.
Me: uhh, wh...what do you take me for ?
Jensen: (bursting out a laugh) there's actually something you can't do ?.
Me: shut up. I can swim
Fuck no I can't, and that's especially disappointing when you realise I was born in the village, spent holidays going to the stream, but no matter what, my body just refused to float.
Jensen: okay little boy, there's a floater here, let me teach you how to swim.
Me: I hate you so much right now
Jace: (laughing) this is really fun. You really can't swim.
That was the last straw, will I regret my decision?, fuck yes. But at least I'll probably be dead when I start regretting. I waded in until the water hit my waist. The cold was a shock, and I immediately felt cramps inside. But I couldn't just let them keep laughing at me. That didn't stop me from remaining at the 3ft section though, I'm not that stupid I guess. It had something of a stair built around there so I just sat down in the water, thinking to myself for around a minute or there about.
Jensen: (Swimming over, putting a hand on my shoulder) Seriously though, Kei. You okay?. You've been quiet since the bus.
Me: (Looking at the water) Just thinking about what's next. Jarquin isn't going to make this easy.
Jace: (Floating nearby) Let them try. They have the home court, but we have ourselves. They aren't ready for what we have in stored for them.
Me: I know, I'm just having a bad feeling about this
Jensen: you and your bad feelings, cheer up. We're the unholy trinity for heavens sake.
***11:15 AM. JARQUIN HIGH.***
The mood soured the second we stepped onto their campus. It was dusty, the buildings were peeling, and the 'Host Teacher' looked like he had just sucked a lemon.
Coach John: (Facing off with Jarquin's Principal) What do you mean by the key is missing?. It's a basketball court, not a bank vault!
Principal: (Calmly, adjusting his glasses) The janitor went to his village for a funeral. He has the only key to the indoor facility. And the outdoor court... as you can see, we are drying our harvest on it.
He pointed to the outdoor court, which was literally covered in spread-out grains and cassava.
Coach John: (Voice vibrating with rage) You are drying... you are drying crops on a regulation basketball court?
Jensen: (To me, jaw dropped) He's joking, right? This is a prank for a TV show?
Me: (Looking at the Principal's cold eyes) No prank, Jensen. This is psychological warfare. They want us to waste our day. This is the bad feeling I've been having.
The National Collegiate/High School Basketball Association have a simple room for every away fixture. "The home team are expected to provide accomodation to the travelling team, and they must provide a proper basketball court for the travelling team training sections". Jarquin weren't complying, I mean you can say they did provide us with accommodation if that's what we wanna call that thing they brought forth yesterday, but what about proper court for training. This is just wickedness, it's not even fair. The next thirty minutes was coach getting pissed and shouting at the top of his voice, he's lost weight and hair and sleep this last few days. Eventually they accepted to provide us with where to run out drills and train, you should have seen the relieve on coaches face, he was overjoyed. Unfortunately that didn't last long cause they took us to a court made of sandy clay with no proper rim or anything.
Coach John: (Turning to the host teacher, his face turning a deep, volcanic red) Is this a joke?. I asked for a proper court to train. This is a fucking construction site.
Host Teacher: (Picking his teeth with a matchstick, completely indifferent) Mr man, watch what you say to me, I'm not your mate. Moreover this is where our boys play. It's what we use to build their character. If your Lagos stars are too soft for the ground, they can go back to their AC bus.
Coach John: (Exploding, his voice echoing across the campus) CHARACTER?! This is a health hazard!. I have players here who are scouted by international colleges!. This isn't just an insult, it's a violation of every safety protocol in the book!.
Host teacher: you're shouting oo. Can't you speak like a normal human being?. Or are you a monkey that escaped from the zoo?.
Coach eyes went low and he just angrily sighed. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen like he was about to launch a nuclear strike.
Coach John: I am calling the board right now!. I am filing a formal, high-level complaint with the NCHSBA!. I will have your school's license revoked before the sun sets!. This tournament is sanctioned by the National Association, and you are treating it like a backyard scrap!.
I looked at the Jarquin staff. Not a single one of them flinched. One of them actually laughed.
Host Teacher: (Leaning back against a tree, eyes cold) Call the NCHSBA. Call the Governor if you like. The board knows where we are. They know how we play. You think your Association is going to cancel a semi-final in Nnewi because the ground is too red for you?.
Me: (Whispering to Jensen) They aren't scared.
Jensen: (Eyes wide, staring at the bent rim) I can see that, what I don't understand is why. Coach is literally vibrating.
Me: Because they have backing. You don't act this arrogant unless you know the people at the top are already in your pocket.
Coach John: (Screaming into his phone) Yes Mr white!. We're standing in a dust bowl in Nnewi and they're calling it a court!
Jarquin's Principal walked up, he was rocking some traditional clothes called isi-agu with a walking stick looking completely unbothered by Coach's meltdown.
Principal: (Softly) Coach. Please save your breath. You are far from Lagos. The NCHSBA likes the prestige of your school, but they like the authenticity of ours. If you don't want to train, the gate is still open. But the match is tomorrow. And it will be played in this school. So instead of shouting like a mad man, start training your students because once it's 1 pm we'll be closing this court too. Important people have rented it to do their Akwa-mozu.
Coach John looked like he was about to have a stroke. He looked at the crooked rim, then at us, sweaty, tired, and standing in the middle of a red dust cloud.
Coach John: (Through gritted teeth) This isn't over. I will burn this entire association to the ground before I let my players step on this... this garbage.
Jensen: (Muttering to me) What's that akwa-muscle they rented the court for?.
Me: (Eyes fixed on the dust) that's the only thing you picked out?.
Jensen: that's the only thing I don't understand
Me: (sighing) they rented out the court to people who wants to use it for a burial wake-keep.
Jace: you're joking right?.
Me: do I sound so?.
Jensen: how is something like this even plausible?. This is so not fair.
Me: you know what hurts the most?.
Jace: what?.
Me: my own state is going this low. It's a pain to see
***12:57 PM. BACK AT THE HOTEL.***
If the aim of Jarquin was to kill our spirits, they did a fantastic job, cause trust me when I say we were mentally and emotionally down. Coach made us sit at the reception hall and asked us to wait for him while he spoke to the hotel manager, after spending around 20 minutes or so he came out with the manager and some camera people. Mr. White must have sent a bank transfer that made the hotel manager's head spin, because suddenly, their private court was ours, it came with a price though.
Manager: (Holding a professional camera, flanked by two social media girls) Just a few clips. "International Stars Prep at Crystal Garden." It's good for business
Jensen: (Adjusting his jersey, looking annoyed) I feel like a circus monkey.
Me: (Smirking) A very pretty circus monkey, Jensen. Now go do that between-the-legs dunk for the lady with the iPhone. I need to practice my mid-range.
Coach made a simple deal, they let us train, in exchange they use us for promoting their business. We were basically just modelling for free. There must be some kind of law against forced labour without payment.
Back to reality, coach made us do drills and run plays for three hours, three fucking hours. The hotel court was pristine, but the sun was brutal. By 3:30 PM, we were gassed. We ended our training with a friendly match, our team Vs a team juggled up by coach. They won. We were that tired.
He eventually dismissed us after giving the plan of the century. We headed up, showered, and the team settled for the hotel's "Continental" spaghetti.
***5:58 PM. BACK AT THE EXECUTIVE RESTAURANT ***
Coach ordered for spaghetti Bolognese and trust me I love it, my pumpkin use to make that for me before she travelled out, I love the sauce and the turkey in the sauce and the overall taste of it. But then, this is my home, and I can't have any modernised food. I already have enough of that at Starling.
Me: Put the fork down. We're going downstairs to the local kitchen.
Jensen: (Eyes lighting up) the Real food you always talk about?
Me: yeah. The realest.
Jensen and Jace have been pressurising me for a short while now to show them the kind of food I normally consume, so this is the opportunity. We took a bathroom excuse from coach and made our way downstairs to the 'local food sector', the real sector to me. We sat in the smaller, more intimate dining area. I signaled the waitress and when she came, I saw one of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, she's probably someone's wife, but then she deserves the compliment.
Angelic Waitress: good evening, how can I be of service?
Me: good evening ma, biko í were akpu?. (Please do you have fufu).
Angelic Waitress: (smiling) aha, ó onyi Igbo ki bu?. (You're Igbo?) .
Me: (smiling) abum onyé ihiala sef. (I'm from ihiala {very close to nnewi})
Angelic Waitress: ehe. So ogini ka'unu cho?. (So what do you guys want?.)
Me: ehe. Three plates of fufu na eguisi soup. Ti extra fufu na ofu. With excess meat. (Three plates of swallow with extra swallow and meat)
Angelic Waitress: (smiling, jokingly) ósoso unu ge richa ifa?. (Is it only you guys that'll finish this order).
Me: ezibo aguor ji anyi (We're so hungry).
Angelic Waitress: okay. Your order will be here in three minutes.
Me: thank you
Jensen: thank you
Jace: thanks
Me: What's with this thanks.
Jace: the fuck is with you speaking your local language when we all know she speaks English.
Jensen: not to add, your language sounds like some shit a old dying warlock will say.
Me: the hell?. Fuck you
Jensen: you wish.
Around 10 minutes on, the bowls of Egusi finally arrived. Thick, yellowish and filled with chunks of assorted meat—alongside the white, steaming mounds of fufu, the smell filled the room.
Jensen: (Hesitating) It... it smells like a lot of things at once. Is that stockfish?
Me: (Already washing my hands in the bowl provided) Stop analyzing it and eat. Wash your hands. Use your right hand only. Make a small ball, indent it, scoop the soup, swallow, please don't fucking chew.
Jace took to it instantly. Jensen was more cautious, his "Golden Boy" upbringing fighting the urge to use a fork and knife. He took a bite, his eyes widening as the spice hit.
Jensen: (Coughing slightly) Whoa. That's... that's got a kick.
Me: (Grinning) That's the soul of my home, man.
Jace: (Already halfway through his pufu) This is ten times better than that pasta. Keima, why did you hide this from us in Lagos?
Me: fuck you. Mr Jensen West here should speak to his father. He's killing me with the excess western dish .
Jensen: maybe because I fuck with that. This.... Not so much .
Me: you don't like it ?.
Jensen: not for me
Me: cool. Pass it to me. I'll finish it after I finish mine
Jensen: okay. Lemme just finish my meat.
Me: are you joking?
Jensen: uhh
Me: I'm eating your food, it's only fair I eat you meat too
Jensen: pause
Jace: that sounded... Uhmmm
Me: yeah. I regretted as soon as it left my mouth.
We finished everything in twenty minutes and the bills were presented. #5300 for mine and #4500 for Jace and Jensen. Total bill #14,300. What the actual fuck, I kid you not when I say this is the amount you pay when you want to travel from Lagos to the east and this criminals were charging that for food?. A meal I didn't even really enjoy like that, the meat wasn't even that soft. Are these thieves having a laugh?. A lady In my estate back home sells her swallow for #800. With extra she sells #1500. What the fuck again. These guys were charging like they were serving gold-plated melon seeds. I checked my banking app. Red.
Me: (Sighing) Okay. I've reached the limit of my 'tour guide' budget.
Jensen: oh, use my card, Kei.
Me: (Shaking my head) No. This is my home. My treat. I just need to make a call.
I walked a few paces away and hit the contact: Big Bro.
The phone rang. It didn't sound like a normal ring; it sounded like a heavy-duty engine starting up.
BIg bro: (Voice like thunder) wow. My own brother remembers my existence.
Me: come borrow me money
Big bro: (sighing) this is a joke right?.
Me: no sir. Abeg borrow your boy money
Big bro: you haven't called for over six months. Six months Ikenna and your first call is to beg me for money
Me: yes sir.
Big bro: you're shameless
Me: I know sir
Big bro : can you drop that sir
Me: no sir. Untill you say you'll borrow me sir.
Big bro: (sighing) what do you even need the money for?
Me: (Voice dropping) I might have overspent on dinner.
Big bro: how ?.
Me: something along ordering for swallow at this useless hotel without realising their prices were stupid and I volunteered to pay for my friends.
Big bro: what happened to your pocket money?. I remeber dad giving you 100.
Me: I may or may not have invested some of it. Moreover I've been using it since na, it was bound to shorten at some point.
Big bro: hmm. What do you even mean by investment. What do you know about investing?.
Me: when I come back, I'll explain sir. So please, borrow us the money sir.
Big bro: wait a minute, I'm even just realising, what are you going to a hotel to do?.
Me: We're currently in nnewi for a match.
Big bro: you see my point, how will I know things like this when you barely talk to us. Your stupid number only rings when heaven commands it to.
Me: I'll change my ways sir. Borrow me money sir.
Big bro: (sighing) how much
Me: #28,000 sir, approximately #30,000 sir.
Big bro: are you a thief?. What did you eat there?.
Me: fufu and eguisi oo. Abeg help me oo.
Big bro: (sighing) you'll see it now
Me: ahhhh, boss boss. I love you boss. You can still add extra 5k for other activities.
Big bro: yeah yeah. Get out of my phone.
I turned back to return to the eatery, only to see those two idiots staring blankly at me.
Jensen: was that your brother?
Me: yeah??
Jensen: elder brother?.
Me: yeah??
Jensen: you haven't called him in months
Me: yes???
Jace: you're fucking shameless
Me: (smiling) awwn. I know
Next thing I heard was my notification bell, alert #40,000. I love him so much. Oh , I'm in tears.
***9:47PM. OUR ROOM***
Jace: I'm surprised I don't feel any pressure.
Me: maybe because that's the last thing we need right now.
Jensen: we have to win tomorrow. We really have to.
Me: life isn't a Disney movie where we wish into fruition. But tomorrow, tomorrow we play our wish into fruition.
Jace: you're so lucky you spoke fast. I almost smacked your face for killing team spirit.
Me: my beautiful face
Jensen: (laughing) they'll regret messing with us
Jace: I second to that.
Me: I third to that
Jensen: that doesn't even sound sensible.
Me: for heavens sake, allow it.
Jace: (laughing) let's try sleeping for now. We have a huge day tomorrow boys.
Jensen: please. I'm a man
Me: with the brain of a fish.
Jensen: ouch
Jace: (laughing) that was just..... Not bad, not bad
Jensen: not bad?. Fish brain. Ouch.
Me: (laughing) I love you guys so much
Jace: (pausing his laugh) this is the first time you've said something like this
Me: a simple we love you too would have sufficed
Jace: I love you guys too
Jensen: me too. I love you guys.
**** MATCHDAY. JARQUIN VS STARLING STRIKE HIGH SCHOOL.
It's time to get our win over this childish stupid school who wants to play dirty.
Wait wait wait. I just found out what upholstery means.
According to Google, Upholstery refers to the materials, including fabric, padding, webbing, and springs—that make up the soft coverings of chairs, sofas, and other furniture.
This fool was gonna eat clothings, fucking hell!. Brain of a fish I tell you, all looks no brain.
***To Be Continued***