By Stephanie Shaakaa
THERE are losses, and then there are the ones that hit you in the chest and make you sit down quietly because your mind is struggling to understand what just happened. Last night was one of those nights.
The Super Eagles didn’t just lose a match.
They lost a World Cup.
A whole generation lost a dream.
And the painful part? It wasn’t to Brazil or Argentina or France.
It was to DRC. A team that came with hunger, discipline and belief everything we should have had but somehow left behind.
DRC wanted it more. Nigeria assumed it would come. Life doesn’t reward assumption.
A generation has been silenced, not because they were not good enough, but because the country behind them wasn’t serious enough.
As that final whistle went off, you could feel something heavy drop in the heart of every Nigerian who has ever stayed up late, screamed at the TV, prayed, shouted, insulted, believed, doubted, believed again because football is one of the few things that still unites us in this country.
Nigeria didn’t just miss the World Cup we missed a moment that could have healed us, even if only for ninety minutes.
Sometimes you don’t realise how fragile hope is until a football match shatters it.
This defeat wasn’t just on the pitch,it was a mirror held up to a country that refuses to prepare for greatness.
When systems fail, even the brightest talents drown, we watched it happen in real time.
Now we have to accept that Osimhen, Bassey, Fredrick, Onyekachi, Moses, Akor Adams boys who have fought for this badge, carried this nation on their backs, and sacrificed bones, sweat and sleep won’t step on that biggest stage in the USA and Canada.
You could see the pain in Osimhen’s eyes even before the match ended.
This is a man who plays like his entire existence depends on every ball.
A man who gives us hope in a country where hope is now a luxury.
And last night, that hope slipped through our fingers like water.
Osimhen didn’t fail Nigeria. Nigeria failed Osimhen.
And maybe that’s why this hurts so much.
Because Nigeria is a country where dreams are already hard. Opportunities are limited. Institutions are broken. Nobody gives you anything, you fight for every inch. For most of these players, the World Cup is more than a tournament it is proof that hard work pays, that sacrifice isn’t in vain, that even a country going through its darkest days can still produce something extraordinary.
But last night, that chapter closed.
And we, the fans, are left staring at the screen, searching for someone to blame, something to hold on to, some explanation that makes sense.
We weren’t good enough.
We didn’t play like a team that wanted the World Cup.
DRC did.
This defeat will follow us for years.
Every time Osimhen scores in Europe, we will remember this.
Every time Bassey bulldozes attackers, we will remember this.
Every time we see a World Cup advert, a match highlight, an anthem we will remember we should have been there.
Alex Iwobi has worn the green and white with loyalty, with consistency, with the kind of commitment many players don’t give anymore. He has shown up for Nigeria match after match, year after year. But what does he have to show for it? Just one World Cup appearance.
For a player with his experience, his caps, his service, it’s heartbreaking. It’s almost embarrassing for us as a footballing nation. He recently hit a 90‑cap milestone for Nigeria.
A talent like Osimhen should not spend his entire international career watching World Cups from the sidelines. It says more about the system around him than the player himself.
Osimhen has done his part. Nigeria hasn’t.
And that’s the painful reality.
And maybe this is the conversation we need to have in this country.
About preparation.
About seriousness.
About leadership.
About accountability.
About how talent alone is never enough.
Because a country that cannot manage its football is already telling you how it manages everything else.
Last night was not just about football.
It’s about what Nigeria could be… but refuses to become.
May this pain bite us deeply enough to spark a real conversation.
May it humble the administrators who think football success grows on vibes and jerseys.
May it remind us that even the most gifted generation can watch their dreams vanish if the system is built on sand.
This wasn’t heartbreak. This was a national lesson and we better learn it.
If football is our escape, last night Nigeria locked us out.
We didn’t lose to DRC. We lost to our own complacency.
Rest well, Super Eagles fans.
Cry if you must.
Complain if you must.
We have earned it.
Because something died last night.
Not just a World Cup dream.
A nation’s heartbeat skipped.
Shaakaa writes from Makurdi
shaakaastephanie@yahoo.com
