---
Chapter 2 – The Call
That night, Kwaku could hardly sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the ball flying into the net again — felt the dust, the roar, the rush of that perfect moment. He turned on his narrow bed, the room dimly lit by a flickering bulb that buzzed with mosquitoes.
Outside, the city was restless — horns, laughter, music from a nearby bar drifting through the air. Somewhere out there, the man in the suit was probably deciding his future. The thought made his chest tighten.
He heard his mother's soft humming from the next room, a gospel tune she sang when she couldn't stop worrying. He smiled faintly. She had come to the field that day, pretending she just "passed by", her load on her head. But he'd seen her at the far end, clapping as he'd scored.
---
The next morning, Kwaku woke before dawn. He washed his face in a plastic basin, brushed his teeth, and stepped outside into the cool morning air. The neighbourhood smelled of charcoal fires and fried dough.
Kojo was already waiting at the corner, balancing two cups of tea on a tray.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" Kojo grinned, handing him one.
"How can I? That man—he looked right at me."
"You think he'll call?"
"He has to," Kwaku said, though his voice didn't sound as certain as he hoped.
---
At the field later that day, Coach Asare gathered the boys. His whistle hung motionless around his neck, which was unusual.
"Listen up!" he barked, his deep voice carrying across the field. "The men who came yesterday were from some of the best secondary schools. Some of them work with European agents. They were impressed. Very impressed."
A murmur rippled through the group. Kwaku felt his pulse quicken.
"The European one was not so impressed but a secondary school coach picked one of you," the coach continued. He paused, his eyes scanning the faces. "Kwaku Mensah."
For a moment, everything froze. The world went quiet except for the distant cry of a hawker on the street.
Kojo let out a loud whoop, punching the air. The other boys clapped half-heartedly — some genuinely happy, others masking jealousy.
Kwaku's hands trembled. "Me?"
Coach Asare nodded. "You'll come to Cape Coast for trials next month. If you perform well, you might get a full scholarship — maybe even a club invitation later."
Kwaku couldn't move. He just stood there, grinning like a fool, until Kojo wrapped him in a sweaty hug.
"I told you, chale! I told you!"
Kwaku laughed, his voice shaky. "We're going, Kojo. We're really going."
---
But the joy dimmed when he got home.
His mother stood silent as he told her the news. The flour on her hands turned to paste as she gripped the edge of the table.
"Cape Coast?" she said softly. "That's not cheap."
"Ma, it's the chance! Coach said This is my future. The scouts—"
"I know," she interrupted, voice trembling. "But who will help me at the shop? How will I afford all the costs, things aren't easy these days ".
"I'll earn money when I can," Kwaku promised.
She gave a sad smile. "Money doesn't cook the food or watch over the child."
For a moment, the dream felt heavy — too heavy for his thin shoulders. But he couldn't let it go. Not now.
"Ma," he said finally, eyes burning, "this is what we prayed for. You said God would open a door. This is the door."
Her eyes softened then, wet with both pride and fear. She touched his cheek. ".You've started using my words against me. If it's truly from God then walk through that door."
---
That night, Kwaku sat outside again, staring at the stars through a haze of city light. Kojo joined him, tossing pebbles toward a rusted bucket.
"So you're really leaving, huh?"
"Yeah," Kwaku said. "If I make it, I'll play pro football."
Kojo whistled low. "Professional. You'll forget us small boys."
"Never," Kwaku said, smiling. "You'll be the first I call."
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant hum of the city.
Then Kwaku whispered, almost to himself, "One day, Kojo… I'll wear the Black Stars jersey. I'll make them sing my name."
Kojo chuckled. "Then don't forget — the boy with no boots started here."
---
A breeze moved through the narrow alley, carrying the sound of children still playing football under the moonlight. Kwaku watched them — small silhouettes chasing a plastic ball. That used to be him. Maybe it still was.
He closed his eyes, feeling both the fear and thrill of what lay ahead. The world was calling, and he was ready to answer.
---
End of Chapter 2