670 Abidjan Celebrates

The convoy set off, and the city erupted in celebration. The streets were a sea of orange, white, and green—the national colors. Music filled the air, a perfect mix of traditional rhythms and modern beats that mirrored the nation’s blend of heritage and progress.

Zachary stood at the edge of the bus, laughing as he saw his compatriots celebrating their victory like mad. But on the inside, he felt a mix of emotions. He hadn’t grown up in Ivory Coast, having switched citizenship when he was already a professional footballer. Nevertheless, the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd made him feel at home.

As the convoy moved through the city, they passed iconic landmarks—the St. Paul’s Cathedral, the bustling markets, and the majestic Presidential Palace. Each stop was met with more jubilant crowds, their cheers echoing the team’s achievements.

The convoy finally arrived at the National Stadium, where a grand ceremony had been organized. The stands were filled with thousands of fans, their excitement palpable. A stage had been set up at the center of the field, adorned with flags and banners celebrating the team’s victory.

President Alassane Ouattara, accompanied by other dignitaries and representatives from the Ivorian Football Federation, stood ready to welcome the team, a broad smile on their faces. But today, he and the other big potatoes were not the main attraction. They were just the ashers welcoming the return of the country’s triumphant warriors.

The players finally disembarked and made their way to the stage, and the crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch. Gervinho stepped forward, holding the World Cup trophy high above his head, and the stadium erupted in explosive applause. The cheers seemed to shake the very foundation of the stadium.

After several minutes, President Ouattara raised his hand, and the crowd gradually quieted down. His voice carried over the noise of the crowd with the help of the speakers as he began his speech.

“Today, we celebrate not just a victory in football—but a victory for our nation,” he declared. “Our team has triumphed over everyone else in Russia and brought the World Cup trophy home. They have shown the world the strength, resilience, and unity of Ivory Coast. We are proud of each and every one of these players.”

The players took their seats, their expressions a mix of pride and humility. Zachary, though a bit bored by the speeches, used his experience from high school math lessons to stay alert.

The crowd erupted again, but the president’s raised hand commanded attention, bringing them back to silence. “We will provide each player with a significant monetary reward, acknowledging their dedication and hard work. In our country’s National Order of Merit, team officials will also be awarded the rank of Commander, while the coaches and players will be named Chevalier and officers.

“Additionally, we will offer them prime real estate in Abidjan, ensuring they have a place to call home in our beautiful capital. And when they finally retire from their football careers, we will also grant them honorary titles and positions within the sports ministry and other relevant departments, hoping they will continue fostering football talent in our country.”

Zachary felt a swell of pride. These rewards were not just symbols of gratitude but also a commitment to the future of football in Ivory Coast. He hoped that this gesture would trigger more African countries to do the same, and just maybe, African sports would then prosper.

In the meantime, the president continued, detailing plans to build new sports facilities and academies, ensuring the nation’s youth had the resources to pursue their dreams. He also routinely praised the footballers, making them feel appreciated.

Later on, as the ceremony concluded, the players mingled with the dignitaries and fans, the atmosphere one of joy and celebration. Zachary felt a sense of belonging he hadn’t expected. Despite his complicated feelings about his nationality, the love and pride radiating from the crowd made him feel at home.

The sun finally set over Abidjan, casting a warm, golden hue upon the stadium. The president and other dignitaries departed with their security details, but the celebrations showed no signs of slowing down.

Local musicians took the stage, rousing the crowds with electrifying performances. They even called some footballers to join them, and the players eagerly accepted, dancing and singing with the exuberant fans.

Zachary watched the unfolding chaos with a smile, but as the situation turned more disorderly, he decided it was time to leave. He sent a quick message to Kristin, then said his goodbyes to his teammates. They tried to tempt him to stay for the night’s celebrations, promising him a tour of Abidjan’s famous nightlife.

“Come on, Zach! You’ve got to see the city at night,” Eric Bailly urged, laughing.

But Zachary remained unmoved. “Thanks, guys, but I need some rest. There’s still a lot ahead of us,” he replied with a smile, politely declining the invitations.

He made his way towards the stadium exit. The fans went wild, calling out his name and trying to get near him. But the military personnel were efficient, keeping the excited crowd at bay. Finally, after some struggle, Zachary exited the stadium, flanked by his escorts.

He soon spotted Kristin and Lorenzo Riccardo, his bodyguard, standing beside a sparkling white Toyota Land Cruiser V8. They waved, and Zachary quickly walked over to them, greeting them warmly.

“Congratulations again, Zachary!” Kristin said, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re now a national hero.”

“Thanks, Kristin. It’s been an incredible day,” Zachary replied.

Without wasting time, he climbed into the back seat of the SUV. Lorenzo took the driver’s seat while Kristin sat in the passenger seat, and they set off, still under military escort, to one of Zachary’s properties in Abidjan.

As they left the stadium behind, Zachary looked out the window, watching the jubilant crowds celebrating in the streets. The vibrant energy was contagious, but he was glad to head towards a quiet refuge. He needed to clear his mind and plan his next moves.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Kristin asked, turning in her seat to face him.

Zachary sighed, leaning back. “Rest, for starters. Then, we’ll need to finalize the move to Liverpool. You know that Emily’s already working on the contract details.”

Kristin nodded. “I’ve arranged everything for your trip to Bukavu after we’re done here. The private plane will be ready when you are.”

“Thank you, Kristin. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me,” Zachary said, his voice sincere.

They soon arrived at Zachary’s property, a modest but comfortable house on the outskirts of Abidjan. The military escort ensured everything was secure before taking positions around the place to ensure they remained undisturbed throughout the night.

Zachary entered the house, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. It was quiet, a stark contrast to the noise and excitement of the day. He went to his room, showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and collapsed onto the bed.

As he lay there, he thought about the journey ahead. Winning the World Cup was a dream come true. But he knew it was just one step in his career as there were more challenges to face before he could achieve pure transcendence in football and maybe become the GOAT.

He drifted off to sleep with a smile, dreaming of a beautiful future filled with possibilities of greatness. Tomorrow, he would rest and recover. After some resetting, he would prepare for his move to Liverpool and the next chapter of his incredible journey.