Ottawa, Ontario. – May 14. People, I am home! I have not been here for almost a year, and it feels like centuries. I love this town; I have fond memories of Canada. I still recall nights on the town with the guys, reveling on Elgin Street and around ByWard Market. My early twenties were spent on Preston Street, the famous Corso Italia, and we did, even then, play a mean game of soccer. By the looks of things, the beautiful game is blossoming into a promising adventure in a country where ice hockey is still thought of as the premier game in town.
Canada, people are quick to forget, qualified for the Mexico World Cup in 1986 after a convincing win over Honduras, the same year Denmark went to the World Cup for the first time ever. Nobody embarrassed us during that tournament. Later on, I can recall witnessing the booming of football here, with the number of players growing at a fast pace indeed, facilities being built everywhere and a few local stars getting international exposure in European professional leagues.
Over the past few days, I have been amazed at the sheer numbers of kids and young adults playing football at the old RA grounds by Riverside Drive and in other facilities all over town. The Canadian Soccer Association, the sport governing body, runs a tight ship with vision and a sense of purpose. They believe that Canada will get, from its lowly ranking (32nd on the FIFA list), to the top on the world scene. They are investing, planting, nurturing and caring for the game and the players, building on best practices and lessons learned from soccer powerhouses elsewhere.
But should I put my money on the Canucks rather than on the Lions? The Canadians do not have half the talent we have in Cameroon, but they sure are making all the right moves to get better. I must confess that sometimes, I have my doubts in terms of what country gets my vote. After all, this is where I became a central banker and a World Cup special correspondent.
My becoming a banker has certainly a lot to do with my training and talent, but the stint I enjoyed as the 1994 World Cup reporter for LeDroit, the nation’s capital French daily, could be attributed to the simple fact that they believed here that, since I was born in Cameroon, I had to know Roger Milla, who became a household name here after Italia 1990. They thought, rightfully so in my case, that whoever knew Milla also had a great understanding of football.
That’s Canada, folks, a country of endless opportunities. I am in gorgeous and peaceful Ottawa, and Ottawa is and always will be my town. Just like Nkongmondo is and always will be my kwat. Pity!
