I scored a miraculous goal in
The Antoinette Tubman Ballpark. The manner in which the goal was scored; the
condition under which it was scored; the circumstances surrounding the goal,
beat every stretch of baller and ball fans' imagination. This took place during
the 1982/83 Annual Intercounty Sports Meet in Liberia. The goal was the talk of
the town for a very long time in newspapers and radio tlak shows. Without a
doubt, it shook the very foundation of Liberian ballgame history. Best of all,
it shot me straight into glory and stardom.
Behind the goal stood a young
man. He engineered it. He was the brain and the power-plant behind the energy
driving the goal. Without this little man, with a heart of a Lion and the legs
of Liberia's best legend, Wanni-Bo-Toe, there was no way on earth this piece of
history and fame could be realized by me. Ball fans and admirers called him
"S. Poly" and "Sakota baby."
They called "S.
Poly" because as a baller in Liberia, fans, supporters and admirers call
ballers names that best describe their persona, modus operandi or actions on
and off the ball pitch.
Actually, "S.
Polly's" legal name is Sam Bedford.
I knew Sam faintly in Colonel
West, an enclave of the Borough of New Krutown, suburb of Monrovia.
Sam and I were balling for two
different ball clubs in the Borough. He balled for Sakota and I for Debamu.
I don't know whether or not it
was an accident that we crossed paths in Colonel West's Ballpark. But for some
unknown reason, we found ourselves right there playing ball. Sam's Ball Club
was Kru-based and mine Glebo-based. Evidently, they had a tribal flavor.
Sam was young; so was I. We
were ballers because we wanted to play ball with friends and have fun and at
the same time, compete on a serious level.
That's the level on which I
got to know Sam Bedford, the man behind my most outstanding goal in my balling
career!
As time unfolded, Sam and I
outgrew Krutown Ballpark. I mean our skills had sharpened and improved.
We moved on to the national
platform. On the national platform, our balling camaraderie improved
particularly when we balled together in a very historic Tournament (the first
of its kind hosted by the Military government) and on the same ball club (Grand
Kru County - first time becoming a county in Liberia). That particular
Tournament reshaped Sam's life and mine dramatically. And this was done in a
way that the change was permanently and indelibly printed on our minds and on
the minds of ballers of our time
This all took shape particularly
in one game, out of many games we played. This unforgettable experience forced
us into the annals of Liberian ball history. Because the game was special and
became the most turning point in our balling history.
By the time this particular
game ended in the Antoinette Tubman Ballpark, I was standing on the plateau of
glory, fame and stardom! And Sam Bedford was the reason!
Here's how it happened:
In 1980 the Military ousted
Constitutional and democratically elected government in Liberia. So there was
military rule. I was a high school student then. And I was living and growing
up in Maryland, deep in the southeastern keyhole of Liberia. The violent event
greatly affected my psyche for a short time as a young upcoming lad. I did
nothing against the overthrow or for it until later on. So people called it
acquiesce! Maybe so! I could nothing living deep in the belly of the
Southeastern region; hundreds of miles away from Monrovia, the capital!
I'm sure Sam had his own
experience with the military overthrow. But I never asked him. Because we were
just ballers. We were not worried about politics. It wasn't our place! Football
was the magic word for us at the time. But as I grew up, I learned to ask
political questions. And when I did, it had serious repercussions on me. But
that's another story for another day.
Now, let's get to the actual
balling aspect.
Prior to the Military
takeover, an Annual Intercounty Sports Meet was established by the Tubman
administration. It was intended for young people and youths as well as elders
to compete and have fun through sports and athletics. It was also used as an
avenue for peacebuilding and fellowship between the people of Liberia. Every
year, people looked forward to this Tournament. Because all the counties around
the country took active part and on all levels. In the end, champions and stars
were produced in each discipline. But Football being the national pastime,
topped the scale of all Championships. Anyone who won the Football championship
was exalted more than anything else. And so every county fought bristle hard to
win the Football Championship.
Initially, the Military
suspended the Tournament. And this Tournament was a thirty-year old tradition
prior to the Military coming into power. Suddenly, it became difficult, if not,
impossible for the Military to keep its grip on the suspension. Two years after
the suspension, the Military hosted its first Annual Intercounty Sports Meet in
1982. And that's when I made my debut. And that's when I slapped myself into
the ceiling of ballplaying achievement in Liberia.
Please follow me:
Most of the time in Liberia
during this nationwide Tournament which brought together all the counties,
people who are expected to play on a county's ball club happened mostly to be
citizens of that particular county. It did not mean that counties could not
attract other ballers from other counties who were considered "good"
to ball for them other than their own counties. Otherwise, why would a good
baller not play for his county when he is one of the best and his county is
competing for the championship and needs the best?
Let's find out in my case what
happened that made me not play ball for Maryland but for Grand Kru. My case is
a placebo.
In 1982 the Military hosted
its first Annual Intercounty Sports Meet. By then, I graduated high school and
moved to Monrovia from Maryland to embark upon my academic sojourn.
That particular year ('82),
prior to the commencement of the games, I traveled back to Maryland to join the
Maryland Ball Club. I did so in order for us to pull all our "big
guns" to come to Monrovia for the Tournament. My intent was made clear: I
wanted to add my skills and everything else I could command for the Ball Club
to win the championship for Maryland. At least, that would have been the last
and most meaningful contribution made in my youthful days to my County. But
something interesting happened: I was turned down by the younger ballers of the
County Ball Club. They said I was "too old." Notice, I had just left
the county in two years. How could I be "too old" so quickly? It
baffled my mind so much I wanted to convince them they were wrong through my
performance! But all the same, I tried, but could not convince them to accept
me on the Ball Club. Poor me! I guess I was "too old" for them. So I
returned to Monrovia.
Point-blank: the younger folks
rejected me with no room for compromise!
From that point of rejection
by my county or say ballers, everything started to take anew shape in my
balling life. Ambivalence wasn't an exception.
Along the lines, something
took place that will make me appear as if I betrayed Maryland (my Hometown) for
Grand Kru (the new ball club that recruited me) in the same Tournament they
both partook in.
Hon. G. Wahmle Elliott was
Superintendent then. And he was a military man. He called me behind closed
doors dressed in his military outfit and delivered the sad news that the young
ballers of Maryland rejected me on grounds I was "too old." I
accepted the decision and had no choice but to leave Harper on the next Flight
to Monrovia. My heart was broken, though. I had put in hard work in my growing
up days for the Ball Club that rejected me. Having reached the right age and
maturity to contribute more meaningfully by way of my improved skills, they
turned me down. It was hard to accept. But I took it in with courage. I
encouraged myself to move on. For I was too young and talented. I knew I could
do more on the ball pitch than anyone could imagine. So I promised myself to
forge my balling future irrespective of the odds. And I surely did!
I got on the Flight to
Monrovia from Harper. In the air, I had an aerial experience that remains on my
mind. I had a view of The Martha Tubman Ballpark. It was it that created me as
a baller. For some subliminal reason, it seemed like it was talking to me
asking me not to feel forsaken. It seemed like the Ballpark was telling me that
one day things would become better for me than they appeared to be on that
particular cloudy day for me in Harper. Suddenly, I shut my eyes; lie back in
my seat; and dosed off into a quick nap.
Then bang! I arrived on the
James Spriggs Aero Port in Monrovia. And guess what? I saw three coaches
(Lawson Teah, Patrick Teah and Solomon...). They were from the Grand Kru Ball
Club. And they were waiting to see me. If I didn't know better, I would have thought
these great legends of Liberian football set up everything for my Hometown to
reject me in order for me to play ball for their new county. Otherwise, how did
they know I was arriving on the aero port from Maryland and I was turned down
by my county? Did they know all this and if they did, who told them?
The three coaches wasted no
time seeking my membership on their Ball Club. Their eyes were glittering with
hope. They seemed hungry for ballers. So they asked me. They wanted me to say,
"yes!" For some unknown reasons. I didn't hesitate. I responded in
the affirmative.
Why so fast?
Simple! I was young and I
wanted to play ball. More so, I was willing to play anytime, anywhere and just
for anybody. So why mourn the rejection? My tremendous balling skills and
training were unheard of. So why not display them? This was a glorious
opportunity. And I needed to make the best of it. So I did!
The next day I was out for
rehearsal. And this was on the old Bame ball pitch in Doula; heading towards
the O.A.U Conference Center.
During the rehearsal I
demonstrated my skills to the liking of the coaches. They were impressed. From
what I could see and hear, they got what they wanted - a powerful goal-getter
and forwardliner. They saw something in me I did not see initially. But I
discovered later on through their guidance. They are former great ballers and
legends. And so they knew their job. They knew what they were looking for. They
used their sound judgment dealing with the ballgame to win the Championship.
And they did successfully! Thanks to them!
Soon all the preliminaries and
recruitment were set. I became a registered and integral baller of the 1982/83
Grand Kru Ball Club. Believe me! This is where God wanted me to be. I could
tell! And so I was ready to play ball to pull myself by my boots strap to fame
and glory.
The Game that made the
difference on my balling career took place one afternoon.
Remember, we played and won
all our qualifying matches. And so we were qualified for the Semi-finals
against Monstserrado County.
But that game produced our
most turning point in the Tournament.
We did a superb job from the
onset. We kicked out some of the best ball clubs in the Tournament. And won the
hearts and minds of fans and supporters. Now, we had this game that would
either send us to the Finals or deny us. Montserrado County was no small potato
in the Tournament. We had to win Montserrado or we would forfeit the right to
the Finals. And had Montserrado beaten us, she still would not have qualified
to go to the Finals. So had much to lose than Montserrado. And this challenge
provided the condition and opportunity that shot me up into the ceiling of ball
achievement.
The game, as universally
accepted, is a 90-minute game. We played to a goalless tie in the first half;
that's 45 minutes. The Second half came and was just about to pass out without
a goal scored by both ball clubs. When
the time became five minutes left to stoppage time, something miraculous
happened. And I think God had His hands in it!
Please follow me on this one.
WARNING!
Don't blink.
Or you'll miss the best part
of this whole piece of history.
Remember the name Sam Bedford?
Yes, I mentioned this name earlier in the story. Well, this name is about to
take its historic place. So don't miss anything from now on. It's a
masterpiece!
I think Sam Bedford was
playing on the flanks or midfield on the Ball Club. I don't really remember
actually what position he was playing when this history-making period occurred.
It was only five minutes left
for the ballgame to be called off. Every baller was chasing the ball
everywhere. Everyone was looking for the WINNING goal to take us to the Finals.
So it didn't really matter where each baller found himself as long as the ball
was around that area. The game was at a point when it was no more necessary for
anyone to keep sitting in his position waiting for the ball to show up. In
fact, the goalie came out to take some indirect and free kicks. That's how
badly we wanted this game. We were fighting for our souls with all we could
command just to go to the Finals. Montserrado, for some unknown reasons would
not allow us anywhere closed to punching in a goal. We had come too far and
struggled to hard. We could not afford to go home with our tails between our
legs. Our fans and supporters had done too much to accept this sort of defeat.
So the stakes were very high!
Could we deliver and did we?
Let's find out!
The time dropped to three
minutes to stoppage time. When I looked on the Stadium, the fans and spectators
began to leave. The fans and supporters could no longer live with this anymore.
They were disappearing from the Ballpark one-one-by-one to head home or
somewhere to ease their ballistic pain.
I learned one thing in my
balling career: Liberians just can't stand defeat. All the Kru people I knew
and supporters as well for the Grand Kru Ball Club had suddenly evaporated from
the Ballpark. But all our coaches were still there. They were still coaching. I
couldn't hear them, though. But I could see their hands swinging to and fro.
Then I looked on the other side; our sponsors were looking sad. I saw Dr. Boka,
Mrs. Mabel Greene and others seemingly mourning. Then bang! the unthinkable
happened.
Three minutes left into
stoppage time, a foul was called.
We were defending the goal
towards Public Works. And we were striking towards the goal around Rally Time
Market.
Please follow me! The good
part is coming! And it's coming to a dramatic end!
The foul is called. The
remaining time is three minutes. The kick is to be taken directly in front of
the VIP Stadium seats. Who's taking the free kick? Sam Bedford! I'm looking for
a comfortable position to give a good chance to bring in the goal. So I'm
running around the goal line of our opponent's. The opponent defenders are
trying to distract me. And so they are in my face and behind me pushing and
shoving. All this was going on in Montserrado's penalty box. The hauling and
pulling was too much. Montserrado knew it had no time to allow a goal. Because
it would never redeem it. We, on the other hand, had only this chance to score
and go to the Finals. Or else, we were out.
All our initial struggles would be for naught.
Just like Pele's goal that he
scored as a penalty kick raising the quantity of his goal scoring in the
thousand-plus, God brought our entire game to a momentary standstill. The
entire Ballpark and the world came to an abrupt stop. God wanted them to see
what would happen in that short period of time. Mind you, around this time,
most fans and spectators had left the Ballpark and were in the streets moping;
they had given up on us. Only few believers remain in the Ballpark to see the
end.
And then the whistle went off
for the kick to be taken. I heard it; it sounded like "preeee."
Then I saw Sam Bedford. He was
to take the kick. I saw him stepping few steps backward. I saw him; he lifted
his head as if to say he was telling me or the other guys something like,
"please put your big head right into this ball for us to get the goal and
go to the darn Finals." But all of this was appearing to me in a
slow-motion style and like a vision.
I must have understood what
came from within Bedford. I probably did! Because I felt some sort of positive
energy vibrating from him.
And this is how it appeared to
me.
By the time Sam slammed his
foot into the ball, I left the ground. I began to gradually ascend. Suddenly I
went above everyone else in the goal area of our opponents. I towered over the
entire defense of Montserrado County. I had to look down beneath me. Because I
couldn't imagine how I left the ground and how I reached that far in the air.
When I looked down, everyone was beneath my feet. And Sam Bedford had just put
his foot into the ball. I saw the ball coming in a slow motion towards
Montserrado goal area. And the "Die was cast!"
Remember, while all this is going on, I'm still suspended in the air.
It seemed to me then the Law of Gravity was put on hold by God. Because I spent
quite a long time up there waiting for the "Sam Bedford Chip." By
this time, ten thousand things were running around my brain as to what to do if
the ball had gotten to me in a twinkle of an eye. And if I did what I had to
do, could it take us to the Finals? This questions and ten thousand more ran
right through my brains in seconds. But I knew history was in the making! And
God was right around there. Cause I asked Him to be there!
Check this out: There was a
possible distraction that almost damaged our chances to the Finals.
As soon as the ball took off from Sam's foot
and it got into flight; I began to time it; then the Ballpark's lights flashed
in my eyes. And it altered my concentration; the lights went into my eyes and I
blinked for a split second. I twisted my head momentarily. When I open my eyes,
the ball was right on my forehead. I had only one choice (mind you, I was still
suspended in space in the air all this time): I just turned my head little bit
around and forcibly put my head into the ball with so much force that if the
goalie touched it, it would outweigh his hand. I pushed in with all my might in
the 90 degree angle of the Montserrado goal post. And that's All she
wrote." Bang! It was a plain goal in less than one minute. Then I suddenly
came down with force. The thud could be heard from the distance. On my way down
after scoring the goal, I heard a loud uproar. It was like from the throats of
millions of people. It went like this:
Goooooooooooooooooooooooo...........................................................l!!!!!!
Then bang! I touched the floor of the field. Next thing I came to know, my feet
were off the ground again. And they never touch the ground until we hit the
Borough of New Krutown. The ball was placed in the Center. As soon as
Montserrado passed the ball, the Referee blew for the end of the game. Grand
Kru went to the Finals and I became the "Man"!
That single goal I scored did
a lot.
It paved my way into the
hearts of Mighty Barrolle and The Lone Star. The goal was spectacular! Sam
Bedford set it up and I sent it through the woodwork. It sent Grand Kru to the
Championship for the first time since it became a new county. It gave her the
1982/83 Championship.
Special thanks to Dr. Boka,
Mrs. Mabel Greene and the late Swanzy Elliott. There were many others who
helped steered and administered the Ball Club to Championship. But it's been
too long now. I don't remember everyone now. But to all of them I tip my hat!
It is because of them I author this story with the deepest inner pride.
Hey, Lawson Teah, Patrick
Teah, Solomon and all the coaches, you are the greatest! The Ball Club you
selected was the best. Because you exercised no level of prejudice!
Go Grand Kru Go!
I am Thomas G. Bedell, a
volunteer worker; working and speaking on the ground in Liberia and a victim of
police brutality.
