Rise of a Football God

(GROUP E:)

(Saudi Arabia vs Nigeria)

(Venue: Estadio Monterrey, Mexico)

(Date: June 24th, 2026)

(Time: 20:00)

The Estadio Monterrey in Mexico had never hosted anything like this.

The stands were split down the middle; one half a sea of vibrant green, the Nigerian faithful draped in agbadas, waving flags and beating talking drums with synchronized fury.

The other half shimmered with the white and green of the Saudi Arabian supporters, chants rising like desert winds in unison.

"Al-Suqour!" They chanted.

There was a thrum in the air; more than excitement.

It was anticipation.

This wasn't just a game, it was a collision of rhythm and resolve.

Cameras flashed. Fans screamed. And on the sideline, Sam, Nigeria's golden boy stood with hands on hips, eyes closed for a second as if to bottle up the storm around him. Then he opened them.

Focus. Time to hunt.

Time to fight for glory, and passion.

Both nations held nothing back. Nigeria started with the same lineup that they played against Croatia with, while Saudi Arabia started with a slightly tweaked lineup of players.

Starting in their regular 4-3-3 formation, Alaqidi started in between the posts while ahead of him stood a defensive quadruple of Boushal, Kadesh, Tambakti, and Ali Majrashi.

The midfield comprised the trio of Aljuwayr, Aljohani, and Kanno. As for the attack, the trio comprised Yahya in right wing, Al-Dawsari in left wing, and Al-Burakikan through the middle as the striker.

It was the current best Saudi Arabian lineup. And tonight, under the night sky of Mexico, they got set to play another game to die for.

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, then…

FWEEEE!

The game started.

From the kickoff, it was clear; Saudi Arabia had done their homework.

Unlike Croatia who underestimated their opponents, Saudi Arabia approached this game with the knowledge and acceptance that they were the underdogs, and they prepared accordingly.

They were going to play as the underdogs.

Their setup was surgical; tight lines, compressed zones, and one main mission: neutralize Sam.

It sounded funny, but just like Coach Eric Chelle predicted, the Saudi Arabian coach took it even a step further, basing his entire setup on neutralizing Sam.

Every time he received the ball, three players collapsed on him; a wall of pressure, an echo of studs and shoulders. They were ready to rough up Nigeria's best player and rattle him with their physicality and aggression.

The Saudi Arabian captain barked orders, and Sam was double-marked, then triple-marked, forced wide, forced deep.

And for a while… it worked.

Nigeria looked disjointed. Without the calming and ever-present aura of Sam dominant on the pitch, dictating the game from attacking midfield, Nigeria lost cohesion and direction.

Possession was scattered, and the midfield struggled to find rhythm.

Then, on a quick counter in the 29th minute, Saudi Arabia struck.

A loose ball near the halfway line was scooped up by Aljuwayr, the elegant Saudi Arabian playmarker.

He surged forward, untouched, and with a deft shimmy on the edge of the box, he let fly a rocket into the top right corner.

Stanley Nwabali, Nigeria's goalkeeper could only watch in despair as it screamed past his fingertips like a thunderbolt.

1.0. The Estadio Monterrey erupted.

Saudi Arabian fans chanted like thunder, their voices rising like a wave and slamming against the roof of this stadium, turning it into a cauldron of noise.

Sam stood near the center, unmoving, eyes narrowed.

He wasn't frustrated, not yet. He was calculating.

This game was unusual for him, but not unfamiliar. It was the type of game where the underdog was 150% prepared to deal with your and your weapons.

That goal… it ignited something in Sam already.

The tight marking, the harassing since, all of it already left his blood boiling.

His eyes were already dilated, adrenaline surging through his veins.

His mind?

'Win!' 'Win!' 'Win!'

That familiar voice was already rearing its head.

The first half came to an end 1-0, Saudi Arabia leading.

Nigeria's locker room at halftime was silent. No yelling. No panic. Coach Erich Chelle simply walked back and forth through the dressing room before sharply turning and walking towards his star player.

"They built a cage. Break it". He said.

And that was all it took.

When the second half resumed, Sam returned to the pitch transformed; not frantic, but sharp, locked into a zone state.

He was already levitating, floating in the state of flow.

The look in his eyes was different.

And when the game started, he began drifting into odd spaces, dropping deep, pulling wide, dragging defenders out of their comfort zone.

Sam exploded, taking a free role all of a sudden in this game.

He was everywhere.

And then came the 63rd minute.

Sam received a pass with his back to goal, 35 yards out.

Three defenders swarmed him, but he spun, feinted, then flicked a pass behind them with the outside of his boot, a no-look diagonal ball that split the defense like a seam in fabric. Like a hot knife through butter.

Whoosh!

Victor Osimhen exploded onto the ball, took one touch, and slotted it past the goalkeeper with a powerful shot.

1-1!

The stadium exploded, the equalizer that Nigerian fans prayed for finally!

The drums came back alive. The fans roared Sam's name, roars of Osimhen joining the mix as they acknowledged both players.

That goal increased the tension on the pitch, making the atmosphere hit a crescendo, rising to a fever pitch.

By now, Saudi Arabia's shape was breaking gradually. They'd chased Sam for 70 minutes, and he had dragged them into deep waters.

The Saudi Arabian players were tired.

Sam? His stamina still kept him going like a horse.

And then in the 78th minute, he exploded a second time in this tight game.

In the 78th minute, Nigeria launched a counterattack. It was a blur.

Wilfried to Iwobi, Iwobi to Sam. He was on the edge of the box. One touch, a pause. He looked up.

Then… a gap. He saw it. The kind you only see if you're in the zone.

He dropped his shoulder, cut between two defenders, then buried it, low and lethal, right footed, far post. The goalkeeper stood no chance!

The net snapped. The goalkeeper didn't even move.

2-1, Nigeria.

BOOM!

The Estadio Monterrey exploded a third time this game.

Sam sprinted to the corner flag, arms wide, face eerily calm, playing the cold persona, masking his inner untamable joy, but his teammates mobbed him, chanting.

"Sam!" "Sam!" "Sam!"

"Sam, you bastard!" Osimhen roared, jumping on his back in celebration.

The game was not yet over though.

The final minutes of the game were for the history books.

Saudi Arabia fought back, desperate and brutal.

Aljuwayr hit the crossbar in the 89th minute, Al-Dawsari being a menace throughout with his dribbling.

A flurry of corners, a penalty appeal waved away, physicality abused like a drug but the Nigerian defenders stood strong to the test.

The pressure from the desperate Saudi Arabians was fierce, but Nigerian, now unified and emboldened held strong.

Wilfried Ndidi anchored. Bassey cleared. Stanley Nwabali punched away crosses like a man possessed.

When the final whistle blew, the night sky erupted with fireworks.

Sam collapsed to his knees, fists clenched. Not from exhaustion, but from victory earned the hard way.

"What a game". He muttered.