My Journey from Sports Dreams to Survival
So… In 2010, after I graduated from the University of Abuja with big dreams and an even bigger heart. My passion wasn’t politics or business — it was sports. I found meaning and discipline in athletics, especially shot put and discus throw.
I dreamed of wearing the green-white-green, of representing Nigeria with pride. But it didn’t take long before I learned a painful truth: in Nigeria, passion is not enough.
That was how I began to understand, firsthand, how Nigeria failed me as an athlete.
Alone in the Struggle
Training as an athlete in Nigeria is like running a marathon barefoot — on hot tar. You’re completely on your own.
You train yourself.
You feed yourself.
You motivate yourself.
And when you get injured, you heal yourself.
There’s no system that supports your effort. No stipend, no medical help, and no structured development path. Every training session came out of my own pocket — during a time when inflation made even feeding difficult.
Still, I kept pushing. I believed that one day, all the pain and effort would pay off. But that day never came.
When Passion Meets Reality
By 2011, after months of consistent training and sacrifice, I began to see the cracks in the system widen. There were few competitions, little transparency, and almost no reward for dedication.
It was clear that Nigeria’s sports system was broken. Promising athletes were neglected, and opportunities were reserved for those with the “right connections.”
I loved what I did, but love doesn’t pay hospital bills. I remember sustaining minor injuries that forced me to buy painkillers from a local pharmacy because there was no medical team to help. I learned to tape myself, to recover alone, and to act like everything was fine — even when I wasn’t.
The only bright light through it all was Coach James — a man who still believed in me and the dream, even when I started to lose faith. He saw potential where the system saw nothing. His encouragement kept me going longer than I might have on my own.
But even his faith couldn’t fix a broken structure. That was the moment I realized that Nigeria failed me as an athlete — not because I lacked talent, but because I lived in a country that doesn’t invest in its own potential.
Choosing Survival Over Dreams
Eventually, I had to make one of the hardest decisions of my life. I left athletics — not because I stopped believing in myself, but because I had to survive.
I needed to put food on my table and secure a future. Passion had to give way to practicality.
It’s painful to walk away from something you love, especially when the reason isn’t lack of effort but lack of support. I wasn’t defeated by failure; I was defeated by a system that simply didn’t care.
What Could Have Been Different
Sometimes I still think about it. What if Nigeria actually invested in her athletes? What if there were functional training facilities, scholarships, medical care, and mentorship programs?
How many world champions have we lost to hunger, frustration, and neglect?
Nigeria has so much raw talent — but without structure, talent dies silently. And sadly, mine was one of them.
Still Standing
Today, I’ve moved on to another phase of life. I took a job, built a career, and found new ways to channel the discipline and resilience I learned from sports.
But I’ll never forget those years. They shaped me. They taught me that strength isn’t just about how far you can throw a discus — it’s about how many times you can rise after life throws you down.
Nigeria failed me as an athlete, but I refused to let that be the end of my story.
Now, I do it for fun — not for competition.
