Mundial Magazine: The Greatest Shirt: Nigeria '94 - Home
As an American, I automatically have terrible taste in any and all things football. One, because I’m too lazy to ever wake up early enough to actually watch a match live, and two, because I think the fact that I play an ungodly amount of FIFA makes me qualified to have real, actual opinions on things like player skill level, tactical decisions, and grand football traditions. But looking beyond all of my very strong credentials for opining about football kits, let me tell you about why I fucking love the Nigerian national team jersey - and especially the one on this guy opposite from the mid-nineties.
Normally, I am an ardent long-sleeve football shirt proponent. I just think long sleeves on any kit will look way better. I went so far as insisting on my youth team wearing long-sleeve jerseys for every single game despite the fact we played in some scorching temperatures. Somehow I convinced everyone we could only play as well as we looked. Unfortunately, we looked amazing but lost almost every game. We assuaged our shattered egos after every loss with a team meal at McDonald’s and I’m not gonna lie, I looked fan-fucking-tastic wearing my all white long-sleeve jersey while stuffing my face with chicken nuggets.
Despite my aforementioned love of the long-sleeve, my favorite jersey is Nigeria’s. Way back in 1994, the United States hosted the World Cup and that was the first year the Super Eagles qualified for the tournament. I feel like whenever the World Cup comes around there’s your home team (ours is referred to as the “USMNT” and is still, somehow, lead by ageless, eyelidless skinhead Clint Dempsey) and the one team you just fall in love with. For me, it was the Nigerian squad. I loved the green kit. Okocha’s skills, Amuneke’s pace, Amokachi’s everything. The speed with which they played the game. The fact that they almost beat the Roberto Baggio-lead Italians. (Plus, you know, the color green is clearly God’s favorite color and the logo of an eagle carrying a soccer ball is just fucking really great.) Maybe I love this jersey because of childhood sentiment. Maybe it’s because as a human I can’t help but root for the underdog. Maybe it’s because I really fucking love the color green. Perhaps the most salient reasons for my love of Nigeria’s kit was their skill in transition, the speed with which they played, their ability to move the ball to Rashidi Yekini’s very capable feet. I’ll never forget watching Yekini celebrating after finishing a cross, shaking his fists in Bulgaria’s net. It seemed to announce the Super Eagles’ presence on the world stage. I’ll also never forget watching Yekini coming thisclose to bringing his team level with Italy. Fuck Baggio and that goddamn rattail. That was our tournament. At the time the opportunity to watch international football was nonexistent to an 11 year old American and watching Okocha and Yekini and George play reminded me that football was fast, was strong, and most importantly, was fun. Further, you can’t front on just how fucking amazing the Nigerian squad’s celebrations were. And as impressionable youth I took away two things from watching the Super Eagles play. One, transition play is important. Two, and most importantly, a good celebration is almost as important as the goal itself. To this day, I’m not really sure what it is about that ’94 team that won my heart. I have a feeling I’ll never know. But what I do know is that I would kill to get my hands on a Super Eagles jersey. I need to feel that silken vert on the chest. I need to have that gauche-as-fuck “NIGERIA” that makes it look like it was produced by Palace and not Adidas, and feel it run along my belly. I would wear it with aplomb while making the only football-related joke I know how to make: threatening to relegate my friends to a lower division of friendship for their abysmal record at acquiring half-decent drugs for recreational use. Now that’s football.
Voted Best of Mundial Magazine 2015
