Cleavages by Jones Ayuwo

Two bulbous, prominent, edifices, each standing proudly on the strap of previous achievements, each with the ability to be soft and to harden when instigated. Each sharing the same field of attention but ever separated, ever serrated by a deep dark cleavage. The law class of 17 and the Law Class of 18, victors in their own rights, conquerors and survivors, warriors and hunters, marched out to glorious music, adulating fans and curious heavens on a sunny Friday afternoon, battle worn, battle scarred, battle ready.
The warmth and chides and smiles and shakes and hugs and pats sauntered across the two teams twice and one felt the atmosphere resonate with mutual respect and friendly rivalry. It was a sight for paradoxes and oxymorons, men dressed in full battle gear, sharpened studs, ironed jerseys, shin guards, and premeditated nutmegs in their hearts, smiling and shaking each other, like wedding guests at a buffet queue… civil war.
And when the formalities were done away with… the referee raised his hand to his blackened lips, the anxious faces in the stands animated themselves into different expressions of anxiety and dread… and he blew the whistle.
The final was a sight for sore eyes, living up to its billing as the best end to what has been a stupefying tournament, it had elation, dejection, ooohs, aaahs, and a bit of shakiti bobo. But the irony of life is that everyone wants the growth of the two orbs, but the more the monuments grow, the deeper the cleavage gets. A goal from the Class of 18 and the atmosphere erupted in wild jubilation and unbridled joy! A few minutes to the end of the half and wham! A goal from the Class of 17 and the atmosphere erupted in wild jubilation and unbridled joy!
The referee raised his hand to his blackened lips …and he blew the whistle.
The second half kicked off to the shrill cry of the whistle and the ball rolled up and down the the unshaved pitch, oozing of skill, silky passes and hoofed shots, all in a bid to thrust the ball into the net. But like church going sisters on a cold Saturday evening, both teams refused to let any ball in… until a persuasive cross from Tobi John and the defence melted letting in the ball in a disappointing clearout. At this point one could sense an overriding feeling of foreboding, a certain feeling of inevitability, a slight droop of the shoulders… the year 2 students seemed to be at sea at this point, and despite the best efforts of Russel, Kay and the likes, they only seemed to thrust deeper into the dark hole that is despair. But then, out of the dark blues, a throw in, a shuffle, a muddled clearance, bounce, ball, blue jersey, black jersey, blue leg, ball, net, omg! Goal!!! And the referee raised his hand to his blackened lips… and he blew the whistle! Gooooaaaaaal! The stadium erupted! Insanity!
Uh oh, hollup, the lines man’s flag is up! What? Off side??? And the referee raised his hand to his blackened mouth and he blew the whistle! No goal! Calamity!
Now go back to the line at the top where I said ; the law class of 17 and the Law Class of 18, victors in their own rights, conquerors and survivors, warriors and hunters, marched… battle worn, battle scarred, battle ready, and add …’literally’. Hell’s fury was let loose upon the pitch!
Agitated bodies rushing onto the field,
Heated words wrapped in passion and saliva,
Spewing from angered mouths and retorting throats
As uniforms and plain clothes united and clashed in
Tumultuous overtures. Fracas, anarchy, fists, lethargy
we no go gree’ ‘we no play again’
‘get the f**k out’

I go knack you’, ‘f*ck you’ and ‘please what is happening?’
As is the case wherever there’s a cleavage, there’s a bust. And the year 3 and year2 students had a big bust up! The questions that are aroused by these bursts of aggression are whether or not the hardened stubbornness was merely erected by the referee’s ‘idibia’ness or there are underlying unresolved reservations or bad blood between both classes or if (considering the prematch ripples about prize money by the year2 and the post humus rumours of bribery) the Class of 18 were merely being overly wary. Of what exactly, the writer may not have full grasp of the intricacies of humans to know. But at least the writer knows enough of his series to leave you with these wise words…
“The Lord of light protect us…For the night is dark and full of terrors”
And he raises his hand to his blackened lips…

Published by Teni Akeju


  1. There was clearly injustice against year 2. The appointment of referees by the sports sec Quasim was clearly a recipe for disaster, that has to stop because there will surely be bias when the person paying you is playing. The right thing to do would be that a rematch be organised or no winner would be declared. A balanced writeup… Keep it up.


    1. You have strong opinions and as you said I tried to keep a balanced view, however, as one of the organisers, I feel I must clarify things. The way the sports center works is; they have their fixed number of referees and when you book football matches you pay for the refereeing and the officials themselves use their own internal scheduling to pick who referees (both centre and linesmen) hence the lines man of the first match may be the centre referee of the second game. The tournament was replete with horrid referee decisions especially against the law class of 16 who had a clear goal and a penalty denied them in a game they needed to qualify, but one cannot chalk the events of yesterday to the Sports sec paying for the referees. Who then should do it? The President? And if a controversial decision is given against year5 what then? Or do we begin to call the heads of Clasfon or Amlas to appoint the refs? The referees were shambolic but it had nothing to do with the Sports Secretary of the Law Society.


  2. Kudos to the sports committee for a wonderful competition,i warned about controversial referees a day before BT dey felt jerry talks too much.we are still d primus interperes(best among equals)law class of 18.nice one jones


  3. Nice write up Mr. Ayuwo. A very mature analysis of Friday’s events. Though, I was particularly disappointed in the likes of Tobolos, and “Supreme” for their less than favourable conduct, and use of vulgar words which drove everyone mad, I must thank God for the presence of Coke and doughnuts, and the promise of a good night which calmed all frayed tempers(to an extent). On a lighter mood, has the Abiola Ojo family taken home their Cup?


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