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Dear God,
I am writing from a planet that has completely lost its mind, that has traded its sanity for a piece of silver and a round leather ball. You must have looked down last Sunday and wondered if the world you created had suddenly been rewritten by a scriptwriter from the pit of hell.
God, do you approve of this?
I am looking at a picture right now, and I am utterly bewildered. It is the sight of your sanctuary turned into an extension of the Emirates Stadium. Men, women, and children marching down the aisle, clad in the bright, screaming red and white jerseys of Arsenal Football Club. They did not come to the altar carrying the traditional offerings of yams, or envelopes containing their tithes. They came bearing giant watermelons, ripe pineapples, and baskets of assorted fruits, dancing with an ecstatic frenzy that even King David before the Ark of the Covenant could not have matched. They were not thanking you for surviving the harsh economic climates of our times. They were thanking you because a football club in North London—a club situated thousands of miles away from their ancestral homes—finally won the English Premiership after 22 long, years of public humiliation, mockery, and heartbreak.
Dear God, are they not taking this footballmania too far? Are they not mocking you, our most mighty and awesome God? To see a holy temple transformed into a stadium concourse, complete with the blowing of trumpets and the chanting of secular terrace anthems, makes me wonder where the line between worship and madness is drawn. I thought this ARSENALMANIA was a uniquely Nigerian affliction. We are a people known for our expressive emotionalism, after all. But from the reports currently flying across the internet, this religious fervor has infected Uganda, Kenya, and other African countries. It is a global pandemic of the mind.
I am confused, Lord. Are these passionate fanatics the children of Cain or the children of Abel? Abel brought you the finest of his flock with a pure, quiet heart. Cain brought his offering with a conflicted spirit. But these ones? They have brought you watermelons branded with the Arsenal cannon! They have spray-painted live cows in red and white, parading them through the streets of our towns as sacrifice to the gods of football!
Now, Dear God, forgive me for asking: Do you also watch football? Are you an Arsenal fan? Or which club do you belong to? When the referee blows the whistle to start a match, do you take a seat on your celestial throne with a bowl of heavenly popcorn, or do you have more pressing matters?
Football today is a religion. It has its own temples (stadiums), its own high priests (managers), its own saints (the players), and its own fanatical congregation that never misses a Sunday service—provided the service does not conflict with a 4:00 PM kickoff. If football is a religion, Dear God, what is your role in it? Are you the ultimate Referee, looking down from the heavens to ensure fair play? Are you a Linesman, tracking our moral offsides? Or are you a VAR official?
Look at what happened just last week Tuesday, May 19, 2026, at the Bola Ahmed Tinubu International Conference Centre in Abuja. It was the grand public presentation of General Yakubu Gowon’s monumental 881-page autobiography, My Life of Duty and Allegiance. The room was filled with the highest echelons of power—former President Goodluck Jonathan, Vice President Kashim Shettima, General T.Y. Danjuma, and the Sultan of Sokoto. It was a solemn, historic occasion meant for reflecting on the bitter lessons of the Nigerian Civil War and national unity. Yet, when the book reviewer stepped up to the podium—none other than the Catholic Bishop of Sokoto Diocese, Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah, the Roman shepherd of the North—he chose that sacred intellectual moment to publicly identify himself as an Arsenal fan! Think about that, Lord. A prince of the church, a man tasked with the spiritual care of thousands of souls, standing before the elders of the nation, triumphantly waving Arsenal’s flag. What an abomination!
The Impending FIFA Global Explosion
If you think the current level of football madness is alarming, let me remind you, Almighty Father, that the FIFA World Cup is almost here. Football madness will surely explode and completely take over the earth.
It will be a total eclipse of spirituality. I can assure you that if the match schedules coincide with church service times, many sanctuaries will be left completely empty. Pastors will preach to empty benches and echoing halls. The Sunday morning communion will be abandoned for the Sunday afternoon viewing center. Christians and Muslims alike will be caught in the frenzy and madness of the soccer epidemic.
Is this game an instrument from the pit of hell designed to distract humanity from your kingdom, or do they play football in heaven too? If heaven does not partake in this sport, then why has it gripped your children on earth with such demonic force? For 22 years, Arsenal fans have been the laughingstock of the sporting world. They have suffered what can only be described as a sports-induced purgatory. Every year, they would start the season with boasting and pride, only to collapse like a pack of cards. They were mocked by rival fans of Manchester United, Chelsea, and Manchester City. They were called “trophyless failures.” The long wilderness journey lasted from 2004 all the way to 2025—two decades of near-misses, heartbreak, and systemic failure under various managers. It was a true desert experience. But this May 2026, absolute triumph arrived. They broke the curse, clinched the Premier League trophy, and experienced what they consider an “Arsenal Resurrection.” They have finally entered the Promised Land.
When the final whistle blew and they emerged as champions, the relief was too heavy for their chests to contain. It broke the dams of their reason. That is why they ran to your altar. They genuinely believe that it was a divine intervention, a miracle akin to the parting of the Red Sea, that stopped Manchester City from overtaking them this time.
But God, must they bring the noisy, rowdy spirit of the viewing centre into your presence?
The fans quote scriptures from the Psalms to justify their actions, arguing that we should praise you with the timbrel and dance, with stringed instruments and organs. They argue that if you can accept praises for a new car, a new house, or a miraculous child, why should you reject praises for a historic football league title that has restored their lost dignity? They believe their mental health has been saved by this victory, and for that, you deserve the glory.
Therefore, Dear Lord, I am asking you to clear my confusion. We need a sign.
If you are indeed an Arsenal fan, let us know so that we can all buy the jersey and turn the church into a permanent stadium. If you are the ultimate Referee, please blow your whistle and call these fans to order before the World Cup begins. Let them know that while football is an exquisite game that stirs the human soul, it must never replace the reverence due to your Holy name.
The watermelons on the altar are getting warm, the pineapples are fragrant, and the red-and-white cows are lowing in the churchyard. The world has truly gone mad for football. I await your divine judgment on this ARSENALMANIA, before the coming World Cup completely swallows what is left of our global sanity.
Your confused but observant servant on Earth,
A Witness to the Madness
MIKE AWOYINFA
