There were moments in the game when the Black Stars were at their finest, warriors in the tradition of Shaka and Tohajie, sleek as shining spears, mighty as Eagles on the descent, when my pride swelled my chest to breaking point. The whole world was frozen in awe at the grandeur of spirit and ecstasy of skill on display. What joy and glory it was to share one nation with such a force of nature, such a terrifying, but utterly beautiful, force of nature! And I knew that everyone in that room with me shared this feeling of boundless love of nation and the delight of communion. In that one, indescribable, ethereal, blissful, moment, all that was great and beautiful and enchanting about the Ghanaian heritage seemed erect and sharp and transcendent. All our promise as a people, a proud and mighty people, seemed unfurled before our very eyes. In that moment. For those delightful ninety or so minutes, we were all ....dreamers, united in one hope for world dominion. Then I woke up. And the question seared through my mind like a flaming arrow: why are these moments so rare? Why dont we get this a bit more often? The answer was as bland as it was painful: those who fly our flag from day to day are the political elite. And boy, are they a colourless, uninspiring, and listless lot!
Posted on: Sat, 21 Jun 2014 21:55:50 +0000