Good morning!
I’ve always wondered—who declared Wednesday as the official “midweek”? If we all agree that the weekend ends on Sunday, then shouldn’t Thursday be the middle of the week? But no, the world has agreed on Wednesday, probably because it’s the middle of the workweek, and well, we move.
Speaking of things that make you wonder, I’ve also been thinking about the way sycophants treat criticism—like it’s some kind of wicked hex. To them, every concern raised is a personal attack, every suggestion a threat. But come on, not every critic is a hater. Most of us who point out flaws actually love this club too much to stay quiet.
Let’s take our stadium, for example.
When the current Enyimba management came on board, one of their first moves was to appoint a new stadium manager. Cheers followed—the man was a familiar face, someone who had been part of the fabric of the club. He’d traveled with the team, seen things, understood what needed fixing… supposedly.
To be fair, there was some early movement. A reshuffling of the stands, which controversially pushed the media behind the VIPs (a decision that nearly started a mini-rebellion), was eventually reversed. We got some fresh coats of paint, and the pitch got a bit of love too. Then, just like that, the excitement fizzled.
Let’s talk about the scoreboard. Installed by the previous regime, that big blue-and-white block has never come alive. It’s been three seasons, and not once has it displayed a score, a time, or even a motivational message. It now sits there awkwardly like a beer shelve in a pharmacy—present, but of no use.
If we won’t use it, can we at least replace it? Even a manual board with school chalk (please don’t do that!) would do at this point.
Now, about those dusty seats—Enyimba Stadium has a manager, but the seats are always covered in dust thick enough to write match predictions on. But then, during the African Youth Conference held at the stadium some time ago, the seats were sparkling clean, the stands cleared of trash. My jaw dropped. So it’s actually possible? Whether we need to hire someone or just wake up whoever’s supposed to be doing it, we must do better. After all, if we’re proudly called “God’s Own Club” in “God’s Own State”, then surely cleanliness should follow—“cleanliness is next to godliness,” right?
Oh, and the floodlights. We boast CAF-standard lights with a standby generator, but still struggle to host night games. Aba at night is now looking beautiful, vibrant—and yet our own lights can’t find their rhythm. The last night match ended in embarrassment, and the next one was quietly rescheduled. Some lamps are blown out or misaligned, but this is fixable. Let’s fix it. Aba deserves night football under the lights—we don’t just want it, we need it.
There are, however, some signs of growth. Two new buildings have popped up in the stadium complex—a shiny security post and a proposed gym. The gym is long overdue for completion, and while we wait, we hope it’s being built not just for the cameras but for actual use. Our players need that facility, and we expect to see them in there soon.
But this isn’t just about players. Matchday should feel special for everyone. Fans should walk into Enyimba Stadium and feel the pride of a club that’s not just living in past glories but actively building the future. While we work on entertaining football, let’s make the experience better—nicer visuals, cleaner seats, better hospitality.
In the end, maybe our scoreboard doesn’t work. Maybe the seats are dusty. Maybe we haven’t played sexy football lately. But we’re still Enyimba. Our history is rich, our fans are loyal, and our future—if we get things right—is still bright.
Back tomorrow with something on our continental run. Because yes, we belong there—and we’re finding our way back, step by dusty step.
Enyimba Enyi!
