🚨🗣️ 𝗡𝗘𝗪: BBC journalist Tim Vickery about Lionel Messi:
"I don't want the carnaval to end. This little man has been part of my life for 21 and a half years. The standout moment in my career was when I saw him as a 17 year old at the South American U20's."
"Maradona said that Messi can dribble while watching TV while switching channels too. The ball is part of him. But he can also see the space, he could already see that at 17. And here we are, 21 and a half years later."
— BBC
🚨🗣️ 𝗡𝗘𝗪: Lamine Yamal on the difficulty of enjoying modern football:
“I find it strange that people still enjoy watching football. I used to watch a lot of football, but now I find it DIFFICULT.”
“To enjoy a match, I need players like Neymar, Isco, Benzema, Vinícius, Cherki, players you genuinely enjoy watching.”
“They don’t necessarily have to be Brazilians like Ronaldinho. I never saw Henry play live, but I loved watching compilations of him.”
The Lessons I Learned from My Dad
I am not the man my father is.
I am trying. Some days closer. Some days farther.
He never sat me down and explained these lessons. He lived them. I’m still learning them.
Show up.
The kitchen table. The hospital room. The funeral. The picket line. The call from the son who won’t answer.
Show up.
Most days that’s the whole job.
My whole life I watched him do it. Not for cameras. Not for headlines. Not because there was something in it for him. He showed up because someone needed him.
I learned that grief doesn’t make you special.
My father buried a wife and daughter. He buried a son. Yet he never treated grief as a claim on other people’s sympathy. Instead, it made him notice theirs.
A mother who lost a child. A father sitting beside a hospital bed. A kid scared about what comes next. A son who lost his mother, his sister, his brother.
He always noticed.
I learned that power is not the point.
The people who chase power eventually confuse the office with themselves.
My father never did.
Whether he was a county councilman, a senator, vice president, or president, he was the same man.
The title changed.
He didn’t.
I learned that family comes first.
The train from Wilmington wasn’t symbolism.
It was every night.
He read to us. Showed up to games. Sat through hospital rooms. Waited up for children who were lost.
And when the day came that the country and the family could not both have him at full strength, he chose family. He relinquished the last chapter of how he wanted to be remembered. And he never complained about it.
Most of all, I learned that love is not soft.
Love is discipline.
Love is showing up at one in the morning when nobody is watching.
Love is answering the phone.
Love is staying.
Love is getting back up after life knocks you down and doing it all again tomorrow.
That love saved my life.
I’ve failed at many of these lessons, sometimes in very public ways.
He loved me anyway.
That’s the last lesson.
I am not trying to become my father.
I am trying to carry what he gave me.
And if I can do that, even imperfectly, that will be enough.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.
I used to think Pringles looked too ordinary to be expensive. In my head, I placed it somewhere between digestive biscuits and shortbread.
Maybe ₦300, maybe ₦800 if it's expensive.
One day, my friend and I stopped at a shop, and I just liked the way the can looked, so I picked one up and started eating while waiting for him to finish shopping so we could pay.
"How much be this one?" I asked casually.
The woman looked up and said "Four thousand five hundred."
I tried to explain "Aunty, honestly, I thought it was biscuit." But she looked at me and said "It is biscuit nau."
That was how I borrowed my first PALM PAY LOAN 💀
Concerning to whom? 😂😂
I’ve loved since I was 12 years old, I’ll definitely love him till I die, y’all still think this is about gifting people online? 😂