Auxiliary Chapter – The Dream and the Dust
March 2010 – From London to Jos
There are moments when everything in life goes quiet—not because the world stops, but because something inside you gets louder than everything else.
That's what it felt like for Adam Black, the moment he heard "Plateau United sacked their coach."
He wasn't even looking at his dad. He was looking past the wall. Through it. Into something that wasn't there yet, but could be. A future. A flame.
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That night in London, the sky outside was all charcoal and stars. The kind of night where the streetlamps buzz like they're whispering secrets. Adam didn't sleep. Not really. He lay on his bed, hands behind his head, eyes tracing every angle of his ceiling like it was a tactics board. He was building a 4-2-3-1 in his mind. Seeing overloads. Triangles. Overlaps.
Every scene from Arsenal's Invincibles played like theatre on the laptop screen in the corner.
Henry cuts in.
Pires floats wide.
Vieira snarls in midfield like a war general.
And there was Wenger—calm, pensive, arms folded—watching it all unfold like he knew how every blade of grass would grow.
Adam whispered to himself, "Football is life. Football is thought. Football is truth."
And in the far corner, next to his old trainers, a small black notebook sat half-open. Scribbles in red ink. Match notes. Dreams. Plans.
Page 42: "When you don't have stars, you make a system that turns sweat into diamonds."
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Two days passed like a blur. The kind of blur you only get when your spirit's already ahead of your body. His mother hugged him tighter than ever before at the airport, her voice quiet in his ear, "Remember who you are. You're not just chasing football. You're chasing the man you want to be."
His father didn't say much. He just handed Adam a letter. "Open it when it's hard," he said, eyes soft behind tired lids.
Then came the flight. The clouds. The long silence.