In Madrid, where football’s elite gathered to talk business and legacy, the loudest cheer of the night came from a phone. Specifically, from the WhatsApp screen of Gbenga Elegbeleye, Chairman of Nigeria’s Premier Football League, and a man who just wanted to finish his dinner.
It was the World Football Summit gala. Delegates from Europe, Asia, and beyond filled the Eurostars Hotel ballroom, glasses clinking as talk turned to Africa’s game. Then a Japanese official from the J-League leaned across the table and asked, almost reverently, “Do you know Jay-Jay Okocha?”
Elegbeleye grinned. “Jay-Jay? That’s my close friend.”
The reaction was instant. A Turkish investor urged him to prove it. And before he could protest, Elegbeleye found himself making a late-night WhatsApp call to one of Nigeria’s most adored sons. The moment Okocha’s face appeared, the room erupted with laughter and applause, the kind of giddy awe reserved for old legends who never quite fade.
“Ol’ boy,” Elegbeleye said, half-amused, half-overwhelmed, “some people no allow me rest here o.” Jay-Jay laughed, of course, and the phone began a global tour of admiration. From table to table it went, every delegate wanting to say a few words to the magician who once danced through Bundesliga defences.
When the call finally ended, a Portuguese investor quietly walked up and upgraded Elegbeleye’s hotel room from standard to super deluxe. Gratitude, he said, for the chance to greet a genius.
Elegbeleye later told the story with the ease of a man who has seen both politics and football in all their drama. He has chaired councils, served in parliament, and run Nigeria’s sports commission. But in Madrid, none of that mattered.
All it took was a friend named Jay-Jay, a few seconds on WhatsApp, and the reminder that in global football, some names still hold the room.
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