I too, I have had my own fair share of sports memories. Bad ones I must say. I wasn't the playful type in flesh and blood but I had memories that stuck unto me till date.
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[Source](http://grandmotherafrica.com/african-football-and-european-poachers/)</center>
<center>**Missing Person**😢</center>
  The day I went to play with my mates during my childhood days and came back very late from the playing field, not knowing mum has been looking for me everywhere and couldn't find me, threw herself into despair while the whole street was looking for me. I was busy on the field as a defender. Defending every attempt to score a goal inside our net. 

Those days, you bet your last card, everything. As against these days where onlookers bet while players play, the reverse was the case. Players bet there last money on themselves (so to say) while onlookers cheers them.

We kept on winning each game and I stayed till the dark of the night. Trying to make more money 🤑. On getting home, everyone was staring at me like 'where have you been', 'where are you coming from' 🤷. I saw my mom with tears in her eyes and I knew I've caused no small trouble in the house. She hugged me deep in the eyes of everyone and went in to do what all African mothers do. **Beat the hell out of me**. 
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![images - 2020-10-11T172857.314.jpeg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmNgHFGCiDEar67NcMYcgVwonadak5gpVTxdP2mGswroT4/images%20-%202020-10-11T172857.314.jpeg)
[Source](https://pediatricfootankle.com/foot-conditions/pediatric-flat-feet/)</center>
<center>**Injury Upon Injury**</center>
Will time permits me to tell of the day I went to play and broke some bones in the leg region. I knew the type of mom I had so I kept quiet about it. After days of conceiving the pain to myself and mom has start to notice my style of walk changing, she had guessed right that the cause of this whole thing is from football. When I finally told her, the first thing was beating me from head to toe. I regret telling her. After crying and wiping the tears away, she did what she is so good at, care for me. Helped me to massage the leg and got me painkillers.
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[Source](https://mdjpat.org/project/african-kids-playing-football-with-other-kids/)</center>
<center>**I Will Never Forget This One**</center>
I also remember the final days of my primary school, I was not involved in the school team which I accept with good faith. Would you all believe that when my mom got to know about it, she went to the school sports master that if her son is not included in that year inter-school match she's going to show the sports matter wahala (trouble/the devil in her).

The man, in deep fear, took me in. On the final day, I defend so well and was applauded. While we were going back home, the boys of the school we played against ambushed us and one of them hit my leg with a stick. I got home with pain again. Another day of trouble. Dad was my saviour that day. 
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![images - 2020-10-11T173453.036.jpeg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmXJKS3DAgfMsup3PSfpaqiU5So9Zh8ZyEQCd74n9nxVH5/images%20-%202020-10-11T173453.036.jpeg)
[Source](https://m.mid-day.com/amp/articles/no-stretcher-so-mumbai-univ-officials-try-to-carry-player-on-ladder-bench/16508171)</center>
<center>**The Straw That Broke The Camel's Back**</center>
In my secondary school days, I didn't play much, mom sincerely told me to forsake football or anything that lies with sport because the secondary school I got enrolled in is said to be the best government secondary school in the capital. So, I need to study hard. I heed to her but betrayed her along the line.

The result was been taken away from the field in a stretcher in an inter-school. I heard mom nearly fainted when she got to know at home. Hearing that your son is in the hospital isn't the prayer of any mother. The way she was so unsettled throughout my stay in the hospital made me promise I will never indulge in football again. Though I've found myself betraying that pledge most time but I always try to play safe.

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