Chipolopolo Boys

Yesterday took me back to February 12  2012  in Libreville Gabon.

The memories are becoming blare and blare by the day but the feeling is something I will never forget. I wish I could write about all the games we had but 12-year-old me holds all the memories much better so I won't attempt. 

What I do remember though is the final.

I use to watch soccer with my uncle. Uncle Ben.

He loved the game so much. He introduced me to it. Soccer was what played on TV every time with the exception of the news channels. 

So his love for soccer made me love the game too.

And today, soccer is my favorite game. 

So came  AFCON 2012 finals, we were in the living room,  Uncle B, Aunt Nalu, Aunt Queen, and me.

Watching the game so close, counting every move, every dribble.

We rose without thinking when the  ball went toward the Ivorian goalkeeper,

We sat tight to our seats when it approached Kennedy Mweene. 

Every kick mattered, every corner, every on-target shoot.

Our hearts were in our hands almost. And yet we felt it racing in our chests.

We had come too far, the Chipolopolo boys were in the finals.

This was our chance to bring the trophy home. As though we were on the actual pitch, the stakes were high. We felt every mistake and every great attempt.

Ivory Coast had a talented team with the likes of top players such as Didier Drogba (the team captain), Yaya Touré, and Gervinho. To many the Chipolopolo boys were at a disadvantage.

To the Ivorians' joy and to our disappointment, a penalty kick was given to Ivory Coast at the 70th minute, at this point we drowned in nerves. Was this it? Was this the end? 

Didier Drogba missed the penalty. How? was probably the question the Ivorians were asking themselves. We took this as a sign that this was really our time. But was it really?

45 minutes half time, 90 minutes full game, and the game was still 0:0.

We were going to go into extra minutes and now even more nervous what the outcome could be.

The night still wanted us to feel the nerves a little bit more. Because no one scored even in the extra minutes. We all knew what this meant. We were going into penalty kicks.

We were happy Ivory Coast didn't score but were we happy about penalty kicks? I would say the feeling was 50-50 depending on who you ask. 

At this point, my family was standing. My uncle kept going out and back into the room. I don't remember what I was doing but I was there hands on my head. My eyes glued to the TV. My heart beating 5 times in one second. 

Our captain Christopher Katongo took the first penalty and scored.  Everyone else scored thereafter. Kennedy Mweene our goalkeeper took the tenth penalty which was the deciding penalty and we were nervous then we thought he is a goalkeeper he knows best. And he did know best. He scored. And it was 5:5 leading us to the next set of penalties. Then Kolo Touré's penalty was saved by our goal keeper Kennedy Mweene, what a moment, what a save, what a goalkeeper. It was time for the deciding penalty. The victory kick on the back of the net. We were all on our feet. Anticipation does not fully describe the feeling fully. Kalaba was the man chosen to crown this moment, he was a great player throughout the tournament. We all trusted him. 

Whether it was the stress of kicking the last penalty or the million thoughts of what this moment meant to the entire team and the entire nation. Kalaba kicked the ball high. What? No No No No. I felt my Uncles disappointment before I felt mine. All hope was gone. We were frustrated.  I felt the heart of the country drop to the ground. The frustration rising to the sky.  Maybe it wasn't our moment. We began to drop our heads low, handing over the joy of victory to Ivory coast. 

Then immediately after, Gervinho missed a penalty, like Kalaba’s, his too went above the net. All hope was restored. We believed once again that this year was our moment to bring that trophy home. To honor the memory of 1993. To write Zambia in the history of football. To cement our position as copper bullets. The unbeatable Chipolopolo boys. That indeed Zambia Ngatalipo, bonse aba nibangwele. 

We had a chance. The players were praying. Singing worship songs. On their knees. Whispering to God, sentiments. That they really needed this. Zambia really needed this. And there he was the man of the moment, the man whose name will always be attached to the victory moment. Stoppila Sunzu. He Scored. We were champions of Africa. Indeed destiny smiled on Zambia. The players ran in victory,  Hervé Renard was lifted up. The trophy was ours, it was coming home. 

It was historic especially because in 1993, we lost our 18 players, coaches, and other officials in a plane crash off the coast of Gabon. We took the 2012 victory as hope restored. A moment that the tears we shed for our team were wiped, or at least we were comforted for the tragedy that we felt as a nation. For our loss.

This really is a tribute to the team that made the whole nation proud. You made us proud and you wrote history that we will always turn to.

To our Captain Christopher Katongo thank you for your leadership, determination, and hard work.  To the entire team. You are our legends. Our heroes. Thank you. And to our coach, Hervé Renard you are the real deal. We were honored to have you champion us. Thank you for believing in our team and for helping us carry the trophy. 

Yesterday, the legends were back this time playing against the Barcelona legends with the man I believe many wanted to see, Ronaldinho Gaúcho. A legend indeed, a man loved for his great talent, to many the greatest footballer of all time. He was setting foot in Zambia and for many Zambians who support Barcelona or had the chance to see his talent years back, they were thrilled to see him. Months before the game, you could see the excitement all over social media. The nation wanted to see the legends of 2012, to see Christopher Katongo in action once again, to see Kennedy Mweene again, so see Kalaba, Felix Katongo, Emmanuel Mayuka, Stoppila Sunzu and every other player. I wanted to feel the feeling I felt in 2012, I know there was no trophy involved and yet still the joy felt resembled that of 2012. Legends will always be legends. I even had the opportunity to see Kalusha Bwalya play. What an honor. Team 2012 will always be Champions. We were victorious once again. This time around in Lusaka city at Heroes stadium. They reminded us what Zambian football is, who the Chipolopolo boys are.

Thank you once again legends. Thank you always.