By Paul Lucky Okoku
Arsenal’s 22-year triumph is worth celebrating, but Nigeria must also ask why we pour so much passion, money, and identity into foreign football while our own league struggles for attention.
Support abroad, but do not abandon home.
No nation builds greatness—whether in football, education, healthcare, or industry—by outsourcing its passion, its money, its pride, and its belief.
A nation that consistently undervalues its own talent, products, and institutions should not be surprised when dependency becomes its identity.
When Arsenal were crowned Premier League champions after Manchester City’s 1–1 draw with Bournemouth, Nigerian fans erupted across the world. I understood the joy. Football is emotional. Arsenal waited 22 years, and their fans deserved their celebration.
But as I watched the excitement, one question kept disturbing me: When was the last time Nigerians celebrated our own league with this kind of passion?
This article is not an attack on Arsenal, the EPL, or Nigerian fans who support foreign clubs. It is a call for balance, self-respect, and national football consciousness. We can enjoy foreign football without abandoning the Nigerian game that once produced our heroes.
A Tale of Two Football Africas
This conversation is not uniquely Nigerian—but neither is it uniformly African.
In parts of North Africa and Southern Africa, strong domestic football cultures still exist.
Clubs such as Al Ahly, Zamalek, Raja Casablanca, Wydad, Espérance, Kaizer Chiefs, Orlando Pirates, and Mamelodi Sundowns continue to command deep emotional loyalty, large attendances, and serious local relevance.
That is what healthy football ecosystems look like.
But in much of sub-Saharan Africa—particularly West and parts of East Africa—the emotional balance has shifted dramatically toward foreign football.
From Lagos to Accra.
From Dakar to Kampala.
From Nairobi to Monrovia.
European football often dominates the emotional imagination.
Fans passionately debate Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester United, Liverpool, Real Madrid, and Barcelona while local leagues struggle for comparable visibility, sponsorship, and consistent support.
This is not condemnation.
It is observation.
And Nigeria, because of its football history, population, extraordinary talent base, and historic football identity, deserves particular reflection within that reality.
Celebration Is Not the Problem
Let me be clear: Arsenal fans have every right to celebrate. Football loyalty is personal. Many Nigerians have supported Arsenal, Manchester United, Chelsea, Liverpool and other clubs for decades.
But the bigger issue is this: while we celebrate Europe, European football is also profiting from our attention, our subscriptions, our jerseys, our betting culture, our viewing centers, our bars, our hotels, our street sellers, and our emotional investment.
That is business. There is nothing wrong with it.
But what are we building at home?
We Used to Know Our Own Players
In the 1970s and 1980s, Nigerian football had life. Stadiums were full. Fans knew the players. Rangers, IICC, Bendel Insurance, Stationery Stores, Leventis United, Mighty Jets and others had identity, pride, and followership.
Even when foreign matches were shown, especially Brazilian football on Sundays, it did not erase our local passion. People still went to the stadium. They still asked, “What was the score?” They still knew who scored. They still knew who deserved national team invitation.
Today, many of us can discuss European football bench players in detail yet struggle to identify the starting lineups in our own domestic leagues.
That should worry us.
The Honest Counterargument: Our League Has Problems
Now, anyone who disagrees with me has a point too.
Our league has serious issues. Poor administration. Bad pitches. Insecurity. Weak officiating. Questionable results. Poor salaries. Lack of insurance. Political interference. Club appointments used as political rewards. Investors struggling to trust the system.
Some fans will say, “Paul, why should I leave my house to watch a league that does not respect spectators or players?”
That is a fair question.
We must keep our house in order. We cannot ask Nigerians to support the local league emotionally while the structures remain weak. We cannot preach patriotism while players are unpaid. We cannot demand attendance while stadium experience is poor.
So yes, the NPFL must improve.
But abandonment is not reform.
Imperfection Is Not a Nigerian Monopoly
Let us also be honest about something else.
Football imperfection is not uniquely Nigerian.
Human error is part of football everywhere.
Even in the most celebrated leagues, controversial officiating decisions remain part of the weekly conversation.
That is precisely why technologies such as VAR were introduced—to reduce obvious officiating errors, improve decision-making, and strengthen confidence in the integrity of competition.
If elite football systems were flawless, such reforms would not have been necessary.
How many times have managers, players, pundits, and supporters in Europe passionately disputed refereeing decisions?
How often do post-match interviews include frustration over denied penalties, questionable red cards, offside controversies, or inconsistent officiating?
How many television analysts have replayed incidents repeatedly while insisting the referee got it wrong?
That is football.
That is human nature.
Players protest.
Managers complain.
Supporters argue.
Pundits dissect decisions endlessly.
No football ecosystem is immune.
There have been abandoned matches, disciplinary controversies, fan disturbances, officiating disputes, governance scandals, and institutional crises in highly celebrated football environments too.
Imperfection is not the issue.
The question is whether imperfection becomes an excuse for abandonment—or a reason for reform.
Because many of the same fans who reject local football because of its flaws continue to faithfully support foreign leagues despite seeing their own share of controversy, inconsistency, and frustration.
That is worth reflecting on.
Supporting Foreign Football Should Not Mean Rejecting Ours
This is where balance matters.
I am not saying Nigerians should stop watching the EPL. I am saying we should ask ourselves why foreign football receives our best loyalty while Nigerian football receives only criticism.
If we say our league is bad, what have we done to help make it better?
Have we attended matches? Bought local jerseys? Promoted local players? Challenged administrators constructively? Supported youth clubs? Encouraged children to know Nigerian teams?
Every country supports its own.
England supports English football. Spain supports Spanish football. Brazil supports Brazilian football. Argentina supports Argentine football.
Why should Nigeria be different?
Football Is a Mirror of a Larger National Habit
What makes this conversation important is that it is not really about football alone.
Football simply reflects a wider national habit.
For decades, Nigeria has gradually developed a culture of outsourcing confidence in its own capacity.
We import what we can produce.
We celebrate what others build while neglecting what is ours.
We send our children abroad for education while our own institutions struggle.
Our best doctors leave because the environment does not support excellence.
Our brightest professionals relocate because systems fail them.
Manufacturing weakens.
Infrastructure suffers.
Investment confidence declines.
And then we ask why national progress feels distant.
Football is simply the emotional version of the same story.
A nation that stops believing in its own institutions eventually becomes dependent on the institutions of others.
That dependency may feel comfortable in the short term—but it comes at a long-term cost.
Because no nation builds sustainable greatness by outsourcing confidence.
If we once built stronger internal belief, then rebuilding is possible.
The Psychology of Imported Superiority
One of our greatest psychological battles is the belief that what comes from abroad is inherently superior to what we can build ourselves. Somewhere along the way, too many of us came to internalize the dangerous idea that foreign means excellence while local means compromise.
The late Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, in his own provocative way, often challenged Africans to think about identity, self-worth, and the lingering effects of mental dependence on foreign validation.
One of the broader cultural questions his commentary raised was simple but uncomfortable: Why do we so easily celebrate what comes from elsewhere while undervaluing what comes from within?
That question extends beyond names, culture, or language.
It applies to economics.
It applies to education.
It applies to healthcare.
And yes, it applies to football.
Somewhere along the line, many of us unconsciously absorbed the idea that foreign automatically means better.
Foreign schools.
Foreign products.
Foreign hospitals.
Foreign football.
Meanwhile, what is local is too often treated as second-class.
That mindset is dangerous.
Because before systems collapse physically, they often collapse psychologically.
A people who lose confidence in their own capacity eventually become consumers of other people’s excellence instead of builders of their own.
This is not an argument against global exposure.
It is an argument against inherited inferiority.
The Economics of Passion: Who Really Profits?
Football passion is not emotionally neutral.
It is economic.
Every premium subscription renewed to watch European football.
Every viewing-center ticket purchased.
Every foreign jersey bought.
Every sports bar packed for an EPL weekend.
Every betting stake placed around foreign matches.
Every advertisement sold against African viewership.
All of it creates economic value.
And the larger share of that long-term value does not stay in Africa.
It strengthens foreign football ecosystems.
Television rights generate billions.
Clubs increase commercial power.
Broadcasters grow richer.
Merchandise expands.
Sponsorships rise.
Clubs buy more players.
Infrastructure improves.
Academies develop.
Global branding strengthens.
This is not accidental.
This is a mature football economy.
And African consumers are part of what sustains it.
That is not inherently bad.
Global commerce works that way.
But here is the uncomfortable question:
If our passion helps strengthen their systems, why does similar passion not consistently strengthen ours?
Yes, Local Businesses Benefit—But That Is Not the Full Story
To be fair, some of this spending does circulate locally.
Viewing centers create jobs.
Sports bars employ workers.
Street vendors sell jerseys.
Small businesses make money.
Satellite providers expand operations.
Hospitality benefits.
That is true.
And that should be acknowledged honestly.
But local circulation is not the same as ecosystem ownership.
Selling tickets to consume another nation’s football economy is not the same as building your own football economy.
One creates short-term transactional activity.
The other creates long-term institutional growth.
The difference matters.
A mature domestic football ecosystem creates:
youth academies.
coaching jobs.
sports medicine careers.
stadium workers.
media jobs.
club administration.
merchandising industries.
community identity.
investment pipelines.
player development systems.
exportable football brands.
That is a multiplier economy.
That is how football becomes national infrastructure—not just weekend entertainment.
So yes, some Nigerians benefit from foreign football consumption.
But the larger strategic value continues to strengthen systems elsewhere.
That is the bigger point.
*The Super Eagles Question*
We cannot keep ignoring our league and then complain when the Super Eagles lack local identity.
Years ago, when football authorities announced that two or three home-based players would be included in the national team, many people, including myself praised it as progress. But to me, that should not be an announcement. It should be natural.
If Nigeria has a league, then the league should be a pathway.
The national team should not look like a foreign-based selection only. Merit must come first, yes. But opportunity must also be visible.
The Painful Irony
Many of the foreign-based players we celebrate were once local boys. They were discovered somewhere. Trained somewhere. Trusted somewhere. Given opportunity somewhere.
Yet once they leave Nigeria, we suddenly value them more.
That is the same mentality affecting other areas of our national life. Imported food. Imported shoes. Imported clothes. Imported football. Imported validation.
At some point, a nation must ask: *What do we believe in that is ours?*
*When the Naira Carried Confidence*
Those of us from an older generation remember a different national psychology.
There was a time when Nigerians traveled across West Africa with confidence.
There was a time when the naira carried dignity and purchasing power.
Our currency commanded respect.
Our economy inspired belief.
That did not happen by accident.
It reflected stronger internal productivity, stronger national confidence, and greater faith in our own systems.
Today, the story is very different.
And while football alone did not create this reality, the mindset behind our football preferences reflects part of the same broader challenge.
When a people consistently lose confidence in local systems, they naturally seek external validation.
That applies to football.
That applies to education.
That applies to healthcare.
That applies to manufacturing.
That applies to enterprise.
And over time, nations that consume far more than they produce weaken themselves economically.
This is why this conversation matters beyond football.
Racism Abroad and Our Own Dignity
There is another uncomfortable matter.
Black players continue to face racism in some European stadiums — monkey chants, banana throwing, abuse, and public humiliation. Yet many Africans still defend the same systems more passionately than they defend their own leagues.
This is not bitterness. It is self-respect.
If a league benefits from African talent and African money, then African dignity must also matter.
What Are We Teaching Our Children?
Children are watching.
They see us wear foreign jerseys proudly. They hear us mock Nigerian clubs. They know European players but not their own local stars.
What message are we sending?
That greatness only matters when approved abroad?
That Nigerian talent becomes valuable only after export?
That our own football is too inferior to support?
That is dangerous.
*Development Begins With What We Choose to Value*
Children do not only listen to what adults say.
They observe what adults celebrate.
If we teach them that success only becomes meaningful when approved abroad, then we are shaping another generation to undervalue local potential.
That mentality affects everything.
A child who believes local football is inferior may eventually believe local education is inferior.
Then local innovation becomes inferior.
Then local enterprise becomes inferior.
Then national confidence erodes even further.
No country develops that way.
This does not mean blind patriotism.
It means responsible nation-building.
Support what is excellent globally—but also help improve what belongs to you.
Criticism should produce reform, not abandonment.
Because every developed nation became strong by building systems internally before exporting excellence outward.
A Responsible Way Forward
The solution is not emotional shouting. It is practical balance.
*Love any European team if you wish—but ask what similar passion could do for Nigerian football if properly organized.*
But also support Enyimba, Enugu Rangers, Shooting Stars of Ibadan, Bendel Insurance, Remo Stars, Rivers United, Kano Pillars, and the clubs in your community.
Buy one Nigerian club jersey. Take a child to one local match. Learn the names of local players. Promote them online. Demand better governance. Encourage sponsors. Hold administrators accountable.
Patriotism without accountability is empty.
Conclusion: Celebrating Theirs Without Neglecting Ours
Arsenal’s triumph is a beautiful football story. After a 22-year wait, their supporters deserve every bit of that joy.
But for Nigeria—and indeed for many parts of Africa facing similar questions of sporting identity and national development—this moment should also invite reflection.
If we can celebrate European football with such passion, loyalty, and emotional investment, surely we can reserve some of that same energy for our own league, our own institutions, our own talent, and ultimately our own national future.
Nations do not rise by consuming the dreams of others while neglecting their own, nor do they build greatness by outsourcing their passion, pride, investment, and belief in their own people, products, and possibilities.
Celebrate the world, but rebuild home. Nigerian football—and indeed broader national progress—will not rise by criticism alone; they will rise when belief, structure, investment, accountability, and collective responsibility meet.
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Paul Lucky Okoku
Former Nigerian International Footballer | Football Analyst
Published Online
*Former Nigerian Super Eagles International
• CAF Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) 1984 — *Silver Medalist
• WAFU Nations Cup 1983 — *Gold Medalist
• CAF Tesema Cup (U-21) 1983 — Gold Medalist
• FIFA U-21 World Cup, Mexico 🇲🇽 1983 — Vice-Captain, Flying Eagles of Nigeria 🇳🇬 (Class of 1983)
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