Morning in Lagos came with restless silence.
The sun had barely risen, yet the academy dorm was already buzzing. Boys who barely spoke to each other were pacing the floors, rubbing their palms together, whispering prayers under their breath.
Joshua sat on the edge of his bunk, fully dressed, boots tied but not laced. His heart was beating so loud, it felt like it was echoing through the room.
Today, they would post the final list.
The real list.
The names of those accepted into the Pepsi Football Academy.
Not for a weekend. Not for a photo.
But as registered players. Future stars.
---
Uche came over and sat beside him.
"You think you made it?" he asked quietly.
Joshua didn't answer right away.
"I don't know," he finally said. "That shot hit the bar."
"But everything before that… Kevwe, you were different."
Joshua gave a small nod, but his mind kept spinning.
Was it enough? Did they see more than just that miss?
Were they looking for raw fire… or polished talent?
He stood. "Let's go."
---
The board was outside the main office building. Already, a small crowd had gathered—boys craning their necks, some jumping to see, others with their eyes squeezed shut.
A paper was pinned to the wooden board with just ten names.
Only ten.
Joshua's legs trembled as he stepped forward.
He scanned the list. Once. Twice.
Then…
His eyes stopped on the fifth name:
5. Joshua Kevwe – Delta State – Midfielder
He froze.
Then blinked.
Then read it again.
And again.
He made it.
---
Uche grabbed him from behind, shouting. "You made it! Bro! You're in!"
Some boys nearby clapped. Others stayed silent. A few walked away with their heads low—dreams crushed in a single moment.
But Joshua stood there, numb.
He wasn't dreaming.
He had been chosen.
Not because of luck. Not because someone pulled strings.
Because he earned it.
Coach Collins appeared beside the board, voice calm but firm. "If your name is listed, collect your acceptance packet. Then call your parents. The rest of you—keep working. This isn't the end. It's the beginning."
---
In the office, Joshua received a thin folder with his name stamped in bold:
"PEPSI FOOTBALL ACADEMY – ADMISSION LETTER"
Inside: training schedules, house rules, a nutrition guide, and a form for parental signature.
He flipped to the last page.
There it was—a line that made his eyes sting.
> "Congratulations. You have been accepted into the Pepsi Football Academy. Your journey to greatness begins here."
---
They gave him ten minutes to call his family.
Joshua borrowed a staff phone and dialed home. He paced the hallway while it rang.
His mother answered. "Hello?"
"Mama," he said, voice already cracking. "I… I made it."
Silence.
Then a sharp gasp. "You made it? Joshua!"
He heard her shout, calling his siblings, neighbors, even the okada man who sold yam by the junction.
"Kevwe made it!"
He smiled through the tears.
Then came his father's voice—rough, tired, but firm. "We're proud of you, son. But this is only the first step. Don't lose yourself. Stay focused."
"I will, Papa. I promise."
---
That weekend, they sent the boys home for a three-day break to prepare for the full-time academy life.
Joshua carried everything in a small bag: his acceptance letter, his worn boots, and a heart swollen with pride.
The bus ride back to Delta felt different this time.
Not full of nerves, but full of purpose.
He wasn't just Joshua Oghenekevwe anymore.
He was Joshua Kevwe.
A footballer.
---
As the bus pulled into his street, he saw a crowd gathered outside his house.
Dozens of neighbors, classmates, uncles, and even people he didn't know.
Uche, who rode back with him, chuckled. "Looks like a hero's welcome."
Joshua stepped off the bus, and the crowd erupted.
"Kevweee!"
"Delta Messi!"
"Bring World Cup o!"
He laughed, hugged his sister, who leapt into his arms, and knelt before his mother. She hugged him like she hadn't seen him in years.
Ejiro squealed, "You're really famous now! Now can I get the pink bicycle?"
Joshua grinned. "Pink with rainbow tassels. Just wait."
His older brother Osaze stood back, arms crossed as usual.
Joshua approached him. "Still think dreams are just dreams?"
Osaze stared at him a moment. Then nodded slowly.
"You proved me wrong," he muttered. "But now the real work begins."
Joshua smiled. "I know."
---
That night, the family celebrated with rice and soft drinks—an uncommon luxury. Music played. People danced. Aunties prayed over his head like he was a pastor.
But later, in the quiet of his room, Joshua sat alone.
He pulled out the acceptance letter again and stared at it under the moonlight.
This paper… it meant everything.
But it also meant everything was about to change.
More training. More sacrifice. Less time with family. Less comfort. More pressure.
And somewhere deep inside him, a tiny seed of fear began to grow.
What if I fail now?
He closed his eyes and shook the thought away.
No.
He wouldn't let doubt in.
He came too far. Bled too much. Believed too hard.
---
Before he slept, he placed his boots by the window, cleaned the dust off with his hand, and whispered:
"Tomorrow, we train again."
Because this wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.