Sunday’s semi-final against Skillz FC delivered exactly what you would think - nerves as much as football, moments of inspiration, desperation, perspiration. Sweat and tears. Win, and you are in the final. Lose, and the season ends.
That wouldn’t be the end of the world. Starting over isn’t bad - it’s necessary and recommended from time to time - but on Sunday, the boys showed they weren’t ready to start over. They were determined to get to the finish line. It was a nervy start, and it showed - the coaches were needed inside the first minute, encouraging the boys into the Kisasa rhythm that has slowly become a joy for repeat attendees to see from Sunday to Sunday: a style of play defined by composed confidence that produces moments of truly engaging football.
Nicholas set the tone early, responding first to the coaches’ sideline imperative to “slide over, everyone!” Down the right, you could see it would be a proper battle between Lawrence and Skillz’s smaller but nimble winger. Throughout the game, Lawrence increasingly rose to the challenge, becoming bolder with each successful tackle. Kisasa tried to play out from the back early - Lawrence to Crispin to Nicholas - and got robbed for their trouble, a reminder of how sharp Skillz FC were going to be all game, not dissimilar to the time the two sides met at the start of the season, where the boys ultimately lost out on penalties.
But the response was there. Taji beat his man down the other side, and as the cross came in, JT was already shouting “it’s all you, it’s all you!” - and whether Taji heard him or not, you’d bet that’s exactly what was going through his head too. The ball eluded Calvin in the box, whizzing over his head by a hair; Nicholas couldn’t quite get a shot away but got the ball to Geoff, whose follow-up was blocked. We kept finding pockets in the Skillz half. At the back, Richie produced outrageous tackles, one after another, clean as you like - one in particular drawing claps and cheers from the whole bench as he won possession and tricked his way past Skillz players who had been pushing up confidently.
That was the pattern of the half. Every Skillz attack was sent straight back - now Obama with a flying sliding kick, now Jose throwing himself into a tackle, now Lawrence rising for a header. Calvin nearly got his reward from a corner, rising to meet it with a header that didn’t go in but earned him plenty of respect on the bench anyway. Then the kind of chance the first half needed: a flowing move sent Nicholas clean through, almost one-on-one with the keeper, except the flag was already up. Offside. And then, just like that, the game turned. A spell of real pressure followed - corner after corner, a header flashing just over - until the danger that wouldn’t go away finally didn’t: the winger went past everyone down the line and slipped it past Moses. 1-0. The ball slammed against the bar in Skillz’s last attempt before halftime.
Twelve Yards
The second half had a start-stop beginning. Calvin needed a moment after a bump to the head, and the rhythm took time to settle. Slowly, the better team started to show. Taji laid it off nicely to Geoff, and Jose had himself a real spell after Coach Brice’s “Courage!” from the sideline, skipping past a defender like the first half had never happened. Calvin came off for Griffin; Taji came off for Yeseong. Throughout the first half the coaches had called for build-up play from the keeper, and now, with a Kepa-like insistence, Moses distributed the ball easily to his defence and midfield. By now we were the side doing the pressing. Yeseong made a characteristic push for the ball down the wing, getting there ahead of the defender and earning a foul from a clipped leg.
From what looked to be more than twelve yards out, Ryan stepped up to the long free kick. His run-up was brief, but the shot was sure, and it forced its way beyond the keeper’s gloves into the back of the net. 1-1. A remarkable moment - a finish no one expected, that had really come from nothing. With a front flip of exuberance in Ryan’s celebration and a vuvuzela bouncing across the pitch, confidence flooded back through the team. The game kept speeding up, end to end, and Jose produced an absolutely massive last-man tackle to snuff out a Skillz attack that had looked sure to tip the balance. Ritchie kept doing what Ritchie does: an interception, a recovery, a free kick won, a delivery good enough to earn applause from the bench all by itself. Ninety minutes wasn’t enough to separate the two sides. It went to penalties.
The Penalty Shootout
In case you’ve wondered how teams decide who takes a penalty, it’s often just that - coaches count up from one to ten for the order, and at each number a player lifts their hand. It’s a small act of courage that speaks volumes about what the players are putting on the line. In a good team, this part goes by quicker than you’d imagine, without hesitation from the players. Likely it’s because this is a safe space: every scored or missed penalty is sent out from here, home, and every player is welcomed back into it. Nevertheless, you could cut the tension with a knife. “1, 2, 3 - KISASA FC!” “1, 2, 3 - SKILLZ FC!” rang out in turn, each group of boys wanting this win and brave enough to try for it.
Kisasa’s boys stood with arms linked, Skillz FC sitting alongside them. Christian took the first and buried it into the roof of the net. The tall Skillz striker missed their first kick, Moses saving the effort - an inhaled breath on the touchline, equal parts hope and nerves. Geoff stepped up next, set the ball, and after a slow run-up tucked it into the side netting beyond the keeper’s outstretched dive. Skillz sent their next up and over - too much power. Taji’s run-up was interrupted, and in the kick-up of dust he saw his penalty saved; encouragement met him immediately, his teammates embracing him back at the halfway line. Skillz neatly put away their next to stay in it. Then Nicholas, calm and almost in slow motion, rolled his into the lower right corner. Finally the last Skillz taker stepped up. So did Moses. No one said Emi Martinez, but you bet someone was thinking it. He saved it, the players rushed him, and the Kisasa supporters along the sideline exploded.
The final whistle blew, and Kisasa FC were through to the final. Afterward, Ritchie - who’d given everything out there - had a simple message for the team: first a vote of thanks, and then a call to action to his teammates - get up, and keep growing.
Into the Final
There’s a particular kind of tiredness that comes after a game decided on penalties - not just the legs, but everyone’s nerves: the bench’s, the parents’, the coaches who’d been pacing the touchline for two hours by the end of it. It isn’t always the prettiest football. It isn’t supposed to be. Semi-finals rarely are. But it’s worth sitting with what just happened. A team that, a few weeks ago, was still finding its rhythm with players in and out through school, exams, and everything else competing for a teenager’s Sunday, just went toe to toe with a good side, fell behind, found a way back, and then had the composure - actual composure, at fifteen and sixteen years old - to walk up and take a penalty with a place in a final on the line. Some missed. That’s football. What matters is what came after the misses: nobody hung their head, somebody else stepped up, and the team won anyway.
That’s the part that’s easy to miss if you’re only counting goals. The free kick and the winning penalty will be remembered, and they should. But so should Ritchie’s tackles, and Jose’s last-ditch defending, and a bench that still found something to laugh about in the tensest minutes of the season. That’s a team, not just a scoreline.
A final is one more step, not the whole staircase, and there’s still work to do before this Sunday’s final against Diamond FC A. But for today, this is enough: Kisasa FC, approximately twelve yards from the end of their season, didn’t blink.