By Chidi Obineche

He is a rare breed, regarded by his people as a “unique son of the soil,” and who despite his thrilling global accomplishments in the round leather game always kept an unflagging interest in  the land of his  birth. George Opong Weah has times without number shown through his exploits on the green fields and soapbox that  the best dreams happen when you are awake, that the world is a lamp unto his feet and a light unto his path.

When last Tuesday his tears flowed freely after clinching the Liberian presidential re- run contest , it was not a showpiece of his quiet strength and dignity.  It was not demonstrative of his stoic character or the chequered ecstasy and restiveness that go with victories in the field of play, or when a maestro scores.No. He wept because it tugged at his heart, it billowed from the heartstrings, it streamed right deep into the innermost recesses. He had struck the golden apple thrice as much, donning the legendary garb every pace of the way. He is the first and only African {Till date} to win the Ballon D’or, FIFA’s  most prestigious award.

And perhaps, remembering his lowly cradle in one of the worst slums in Liberia where he  ‘gleamed’ in dirt and uppity broke the steely stuff in him. The new president-elect had once sought for the pie and kissed the dust. He ran again as a mate and failed.. But he never raised his hands in surrender. He never dithered but tethered on a cause.  He knew and believed that the Midas progeny in him was still firm and running.

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He reckoned with C S Lewis that “ Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny.” He never doubted that he  will be part of his story day. He had in deed and style showed the people his dreams. By his tears, we glimpse that life is too deep for words and that his past has prepared him for who he has become. He is the legend man, the king with the glistening beads. His life tells a story of no guts, no glory. No legend, no story. He says he is not just a hero that gets remembered but a legend that never dies.

Weah is a man of spirit and spine. He arrived as a king, lived as a legend and is threatening to leave footprints of a one-man mob. He rocks with sensation, beaten not by a better opponent but by himself. He learnt from Lucus Annaeus  Seneca that, “a gem cannot be polished without friction,nor a man perfected without trials.” His run of play has run a long course, though with certain undulation.

And Weah wept. Eyes smouldering, ready to undress  the human condition in Liberia, willing to challenge the predators and make the wild horse race. He has tied his life to goals and pines for them. His eyes and tears are promises of a new dawn because when witches go riding and black cats are seen, the moon, as they say, laughs and whispers ‘it’s glory time.’

Born on October 1, 1966, he was raised by his grandmother in a downtown slum in Monrovia. He was the candidate of the Congress for Democratic Change, the same party that he founded  in 2003. He lost to the outgoing president  Mrs Ellen Sirleaf in 2005, fresh from an illustrious soccer career that fetched him bountiful honours and glory. He ran again  unsuccessfully in 2011 as a vice presidential candidate.  He was elected to the senate in 2014. He played a total of 60 games for Liberia over 20 years, scoring 22 goals. Along with all time greats in the sport such as Alfredo Di Stefano and George Best, he never got the chance to play at the World Cup. He is today the only retired professional footballer to become the president of a country.