I scored a miraculous goal in The Antoinette Tubman Ballpark. The manner in which the goal was scored; the condition under which it was scored; the circumstances surrounding the goal, beat every stretch of baller and ball fans' imagination. This took place during the 1982/83 Annual Intercounty Sports Meet in Liberia. The goal was the talk of the town for a very long time in newspapers and radio tlak shows. Without a doubt, it shook the very foundation of Liberian ballgame history. Best of all, it shot me straight into glory and stardom.
Behind the goal stood a young man. He engineered it. He was the brain and the power-plant behind the energy driving the goal. Without this little man, with a heart of a Lion and the legs of Liberia's best legend, Wanni-Bo-Toe, there was no way on earth this piece of history and fame could be realized by me. Ball fans and admirers called him "S. Poly" and "Sakota baby."
They called "S. Poly" because as a baller in Liberia, fans, supporters and admirers call ballers names that best describe their persona, modus operandi or actions on and off the ball pitch.
Actually, "S. Polly's" legal name is Sam Bedford.
I knew Sam faintly in Colonel West, an enclave of the Borough of New Krutown, suburb of Monrovia.
Sam and I were balling for two different ball clubs in the Borough. He balled for Sakota and I for Debamu.
I don't know whether or not it was an accident that we crossed paths in Colonel West's Ballpark. But for some unknown reason, we found ourselves right there playing ball. Sam's Ball Club was Kru-based and mine Glebo-based. Evidently, they had a tribal flavor.
Sam was young; so was I. We were ballers because we wanted to play ball with friends and have fun and at the same time, compete on a serious level.
That's the level on which I got to know Sam Bedford, the man behind my most outstanding goal in my balling career!
As time unfolded, Sam and I outgrew Krutown Ballpark. I mean our skills had sharpened and improved.
We moved on to the national platform. On the national platform, our balling camaraderie improved particularly when we balled together in a very historic Tournament (the first of its kind hosted by the Military government) and on the same ball club (Grand Kru County - first time becoming a county in Liberia). That particular Tournament reshaped Sam's life and mine dramatically. And this was done in a way that the change was permanently and indelibly printed on our minds and on the minds of ballers of our time
This all took shape particularly in one game, out of many games we played. This unforgettable experience forced us into the annals of Liberian ball history. Because the game was special and became the most turning point in our balling history.
By the time this particular game ended in the Antoinette Tubman Ballpark, I was standing on the plateau of glory, fame and stardom! And Sam Bedford was the reason!
Here's how it happened:
In 1980 the Military ousted Constitutional and democratically elected government in Liberia. So there was military rule. I was a high school student then. And I was living and growing up in Maryland, deep in the southeastern keyhole of Liberia. The violent event greatly affected my psyche for a short time as a young upcoming lad. I did nothing against the overthrow or for it until later on. So people called it acquiesce! Maybe so! I could nothing living deep in the belly of the Southeastern region; hundreds of miles away from Monrovia, the capital!
I'm sure Sam had his own experience with the military overthrow. But I never asked him. Because we were just ballers. We were not worried about politics. It wasn't our place! Football was the magic word for us at the time. But as I grew up, I learned to ask political questions. And when I did, it had serious repercussions on me. But that's another story for another day.
Now, let's get to the actual balling aspect.
Prior to the Military takeover, an Annual Intercounty Sports Meet was established by the Tubman administration. It was intended for young people and youths as well as elders to compete and have fun through sports and athletics. It was also used as an avenue for peacebuilding and fellowship between the people of Liberia. Every year, people looked forward to this Tournament. Because all the counties around the country took active part and on all levels. In the end, champions and stars were produced in each discipline. But Football being the national pastime, topped the scale of all Championships. Anyone who won the Football championship was exalted more than anything else. And so every county fought bristle hard to win the Football Championship.
Initially, the Military suspended the Tournament. And this Tournament was a thirty-year old tradition prior to the Military coming into power. Suddenly, it became difficult, if not, impossible for the Military to keep its grip on the suspension. Two years after the suspension, the Military hosted its first Annual Intercounty Sports Meet in 1982. And that's when I made my debut. And that's when I slapped myself into the ceiling of ballplaying achievement in Liberia.
Please follow me:
Most of the time in Liberia during this nationwide Tournament which brought together all the counties, people who are expected to play on a county's ball club happened mostly to be citizens of that particular county. It did not mean that counties could not attract other ballers from other counties who were considered "good" to ball for them other than their own counties. Otherwise, why would a good baller not play for his county when he is one of the best and his county is competing for the championship and needs the best?
Let's find out in my case what happened that made me not play ball for Maryland but for Grand Kru. My case is a placebo.
In 1982 the Military hosted its first Annual Intercounty Sports Meet. By then, I graduated high school and moved to Monrovia from Maryland to embark upon my academic sojourn.
That particular year ('82), prior to the commencement of the games, I traveled back to Maryland to join the Maryland Ball Club. I did so in order for us to pull all our "big guns" to come to Monrovia for the Tournament. My intent was made clear: I wanted to add my skills and everything else I could command for the Ball Club to win the championship for Maryland. At least, that would have been the last and most meaningful contribution made in my youthful days to my County. But something interesting happened: I was turned down by the younger ballers of the County Ball Club. They said I was "too old." Notice, I had just left the county in two years. How could I be "too old" so quickly? It baffled my mind so much I wanted to convince them they were wrong through my performance! But all the same, I tried, but could not convince them to accept me on the Ball Club. Poor me! I guess I was "too old" for them. So I returned to Monrovia.
Point-blank: the younger folks rejected me with no room for compromise!
From that point of rejection by my county or say ballers, everything started to take anew shape in my balling life. Ambivalence wasn't an exception.
Along the lines, something took place that will make me appear as if I betrayed Maryland (my Hometown) for Grand Kru (the new ball club that recruited me) in the same Tournament they both partook in.
Hon. G. Wahmle Elliott was Superintendent then. And he was a military man. He called me behind closed doors dressed in his military outfit and delivered the sad news that the young ballers of Maryland rejected me on grounds I was "too old." I accepted the decision and had no choice but to leave Harper on the next Flight to Monrovia. My heart was broken, though. I had put in hard work in my growing up days for the Ball Club that rejected me. Having reached the right age and maturity to contribute more meaningfully by way of my improved skills, they turned me down. It was hard to accept. But I took it in with courage. I encouraged myself to move on. For I was too young and talented. I knew I could do more on the ball pitch than anyone could imagine. So I promised myself to forge my balling future irrespective of the odds. And I surely did!
I got on the Flight to Monrovia from Harper. In the air, I had an aerial experience that remains on my mind. I had a view of The Martha Tubman Ballpark. It was it that created me as a baller. For some subliminal reason, it seemed like it was talking to me asking me not to feel forsaken. It seemed like the Ballpark was telling me that one day things would become better for me than they appeared to be on that particular cloudy day for me in Harper. Suddenly, I shut my eyes; lie back in my seat; and dosed off into a quick nap.
Then bang! I arrived on the James Spriggs Aero Port in Monrovia. And guess what? I saw three coaches (Lawson Teah, Patrick Teah and Solomon...). They were from the Grand Kru Ball Club. And they were waiting to see me. If I didn't know better, I would have thought these great legends of Liberian football set up everything for my Hometown to reject me in order for me to play ball for their new county. Otherwise, how did they know I was arriving on the aero port from Maryland and I was turned down by my county? Did they know all this and if they did, who told them?
The three coaches wasted no time seeking my membership on their Ball Club. Their eyes were glittering with hope. They seemed hungry for ballers. So they asked me. They wanted me to say, "yes!" For some unknown reasons. I didn't hesitate. I responded in the affirmative.
Why so fast?
Simple! I was young and I wanted to play ball. More so, I was willing to play anytime, anywhere and just for anybody. So why mourn the rejection? My tremendous balling skills and training were unheard of. So why not display them? This was a glorious opportunity. And I needed to make the best of it. So I did!
The next day I was out for rehearsal. And this was on the old Bame ball pitch in Doula; heading towards the O.A.U Conference Center.
During the rehearsal I demonstrated my skills to the liking of the coaches. They were impressed. From what I could see and hear, they got what they wanted - a powerful goal-getter and forwardliner. They saw something in me I did not see initially. But I discovered later on through their guidance. They are former great ballers and legends. And so they knew their job. They knew what they were looking for. They used their sound judgment dealing with the ballgame to win the Championship. And they did successfully! Thanks to them!
Soon all the preliminaries and recruitment were set. I became a registered and integral baller of the 1982/83 Grand Kru Ball Club. Believe me! This is where God wanted me to be. I could tell! And so I was ready to play ball to pull myself by my boots strap to fame and glory.
The Game that made the difference on my balling career took place one afternoon.
Remember, we played and won all our qualifying matches. And so we were qualified for the Semi-finals against Monstserrado County.
But that game produced our most turning point in the Tournament.
We did a superb job from the onset. We kicked out some of the best ball clubs in the Tournament. And won the hearts and minds of fans and supporters. Now, we had this game that would either send us to the Finals or deny us. Montserrado County was no small potato in the Tournament. We had to win Montserrado or we would forfeit the right to the Finals. And had Montserrado beaten us, she still would not have qualified to go to the Finals. So had much to lose than Montserrado. And this challenge provided the condition and opportunity that shot me up into the ceiling of ball achievement.
The game, as universally accepted, is a 90-minute game. We played to a goalless tie in the first half; that's 45 minutes. The Second half came and was just about to pass out without a goal scored by both ball clubs. When the time became five minutes left to stoppage time, something miraculous happened. And I think God had His hands in it!
Please follow me on this one.
WARNING!
Don't blink.
Or you'll miss the best part of this whole piece of history.
Remember the name Sam Bedford? Yes, I mentioned this name earlier in the story. Well, this name is about to take its historic place. So don't miss anything from now on. It's a masterpiece!
I think Sam Bedford was playing on the flanks or midfield on the Ball Club. I don't really remember actually what position he was playing when this history-making period occurred.
It was only five minutes left for the ballgame to be called off. Every baller was chasing the ball everywhere. Everyone was looking for the WINNING goal to take us to the Finals. So it didn't really matter where each baller found himself as long as the ball was around that area. The game was at a point when it was no more necessary for anyone to keep sitting in his position waiting for the ball to show up. In fact, the goalie came out to take some indirect and free kicks. That's how badly we wanted this game. We were fighting for our souls with all we could command just to go to the Finals. Montserrado, for some unknown reasons would not allow us anywhere closed to punching in a goal. We had come too far and struggled to hard. We could not afford to go home with our tails between our legs. Our fans and supporters had done too much to accept this sort of defeat. So the stakes were very high!
Could we deliver and did we? Let's find out!
The time dropped to three minutes to stoppage time. When I looked on the Stadium, the fans and spectators began to leave. The fans and supporters could no longer live with this anymore. They were disappearing from the Ballpark one-one-by-one to head home or somewhere to ease their ballistic pain.
I learned one thing in my balling career: Liberians just can't stand defeat. All the Kru people I knew and supporters as well for the Grand Kru Ball Club had suddenly evaporated from the Ballpark. But all our coaches were still there. They were still coaching. I couldn't hear them, though. But I could see their hands swinging to and fro. Then I looked on the other side; our sponsors were looking sad. I saw Dr. Boka, Mrs. Mabel Greene and others seemingly mourning. Then bang! the unthinkable happened.
Three minutes left into stoppage time, a foul was called.
We were defending the goal towards Public Works. And we were striking towards the goal around Rally Time Market.
Please follow me! The good part is coming! And it's coming to a dramatic end!
The foul is called. The remaining time is three minutes. The kick is to be taken directly in front of the VIP Stadium seats. Who's taking the free kick? Sam Bedford! I'm looking for a comfortable position to give a good chance to bring in the goal. So I'm running around the goal line of our opponent's. The opponent defenders are trying to distract me. And so they are in my face and behind me pushing and shoving. All this was going on in Montserrado's penalty box. The hauling and pulling was too much. Montserrado knew it had no time to allow a goal. Because it would never redeem it. We, on the other hand, had only this chance to score and go to the Finals. Or else, we were out. All our initial struggles would be for naught.
Just like Pele's goal that he scored as a penalty kick raising the quantity of his goal scoring in the thousand-plus, God brought our entire game to a momentary standstill. The entire Ballpark and the world came to an abrupt stop. God wanted them to see what would happen in that short period of time. Mind you, around this time, most fans and spectators had left the Ballpark and were in the streets moping; they had given up on us. Only few believers remain in the Ballpark to see the end.
And then the whistle went off for the kick to be taken. I heard it; it sounded like "preeee."
Then I saw Sam Bedford. He was to take the kick. I saw him stepping few steps backward. I saw him; he lifted his head as if to say he was telling me or the other guys something like, "please put your big head right into this ball for us to get the goal and go to the darn Finals." But all of this was appearing to me in a slow-motion style and like a vision.
I must have understood what came from within Bedford. I probably did! Because I felt some sort of positive energy vibrating from him.
And this is how it appeared to me.
By the time Sam slammed his foot into the ball, I left the ground. I began to gradually ascend. Suddenly I went above everyone else in the goal area of our opponents. I towered over the entire defense of Montserrado County. I had to look down beneath me. Because I couldn't imagine how I left the ground and how I reached that far in the air. When I looked down, everyone was beneath my feet. And Sam Bedford had just put his foot into the ball. I saw the ball coming in a slow motion towards Montserrado goal area. And the "Die was cast!"
Remember, while all this is going on, I'm still suspended in the air. It seemed to me then the Law of Gravity was put on hold by God. Because I spent quite a long time up there waiting for the "Sam Bedford Chip." By this time, ten thousand things were running around my brain as to what to do if the ball had gotten to me in a twinkle of an eye. And if I did what I had to do, could it take us to the Finals? This questions and ten thousand more ran right through my brains in seconds. But I knew history was in the making! And God was right around there. Cause I asked Him to be there!
Check this out: There was a possible distraction that almost damaged our chances to the Finals.
As soon as the ball took off from Sam's foot and it got into flight; I began to time it; then the Ballpark's lights flashed in my eyes. And it altered my concentration; the lights went into my eyes and I blinked for a split second. I twisted my head momentarily. When I open my eyes, the ball was right on my forehead. I had only one choice (mind you, I was still suspended in space in the air all this time): I just turned my head little bit around and forcibly put my head into the ball with so much force that if the goalie touched it, it would outweigh his hand. I pushed in with all my might in the 90 degree angle of the Montserrado goal post. And that's All she wrote." Bang! It was a plain goal in less than one minute. Then I suddenly came down with force. The thud could be heard from the distance. On my way down after scoring the goal, I heard a loud uproar. It was like from the throats of millions of people. It went like this: Goooooooooooooooooooooooo...........................................................l!!!!!! Then bang! I touched the floor of the field. Next thing I came to know, my feet were off the ground again. And they never touch the ground until we hit the Borough of New Krutown. The ball was placed in the Center. As soon as Montserrado passed the ball, the Referee blew for the end of the game. Grand Kru went to the Finals and I became the "Man"!
That single goal I scored did a lot.
It paved my way into the hearts of Mighty Barrolle and The Lone Star. The goal was spectacular! Sam Bedford set it up and I sent it through the woodwork. It sent Grand Kru to the Championship for the first time since it became a new county. It gave her the 1982/83 Championship.
Special thanks to Dr. Boka, Mrs. Mabel Greene and the late Swanzy Elliott. There were many others who helped steered and administered the Ball Club to Championship. But it's been too long now. I don't remember everyone now. But to all of them I tip my hat! It is because of them I author this story with the deepest inner pride.
Hey, Lawson Teah, Patrick Teah, Solomon and all the coaches, you are the greatest! The Ball Club you selected was the best. Because you exercised no level of prejudice!
Go Grand Kru Go!
I am Thomas G. Bedell, a volunteer worker; working and speaking on the ground in Liberia and a victim of police brutality.
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