It has been one of those strange weeks in recent Enyimba history.
Just seven days ago, many of us were holding on to a quiet, careful optimism. Not loud. Not boastful. Just that small warm feeling that maybe things were shifting in our favour. Two games unbeaten during the ultimatum. No goals conceded. A sense, however fragile, that perhaps the corner had finally been turned. Almost like someone sprinkled a little pixie dust over the team, magically patching our leaky defence, dull attack, and shaky confidence.
But reality hit us with all the subtlety of a hammer. Wikki Tourists, under the excellent guidance of Abdul Maikaba, exposed every crack, every illusion, every deception we sold ourselves. In real time, right before our eyes, we watched a visiting team that began the match timidly grow into swagger, own the ball, control the tempo, dictate our movement, and—painfully—earn our admiration.
And let us speak plainly: it was not because we suddenly grew fond of the “other elephants” from the northeast. No. It was because they played the football we have been begging to see from Enyimba for months. They showed confidence, intention, structure, hunger, and discipline. They played the football of a team that knows what it is doing. Meanwhile, we—not long removed from being giants—watched helplessly as that control was imposed on us in our own house.
Call it humiliation. Call it disgrace. Any word you pick will be accurate.
Now Eguma is gone. And like a flock suddenly missing its shepherd, we stumble into Ilorin on Monday to face Katsina United. Nobody truly knows what the mood in that dressing room is. And to be fair, while a handful of players genuinely look like they deserve the Enyimba badge, a good portion of this squad should never have been recruited, never have been registered, and certainly not be carrying the responsibility of defending a legacy they are nowhere near ready for.
The painful truth is this: we no longer recognize the club we love. Week after week, the performances feel imported from a parallel universe where Enyimba is an average mid-table team with no identity, no aura, and no direction. Off the pitch, the issues pile up like unpaid bills—leadership problems, welfare shortcomings, and decisions that consistently betray ambition.
And yes, while we rage at the pitch performances, we also know that behind the scenes, the players themselves are dealing with welfare concerns, entitlements that never arrive, and the general dissatisfaction that kills motivation. A happy squad will run through walls. An unsettled one will not even stroll through an open gate.
We love this club deeply, painfully, ridiculously. But if the people steering this ship do not change course, if welfare remains shambolic, if standards keep sinking, and if the season continues in this direction, then the frustration we are seeing now might be only the beginning.
Because the saddest part is simple:
The fans have not changed.
The club has.
EnyimbaEnyi 💙
