BEYOND CRAZY HAIRSTYLES, DABS AND PRANKS: CAREER LESSONS FROM PAUL POGBA

By Balikis Moyosore 

Let me offer a quick caveat.

What you are about to read is not so much about football. It’s a story about the rise and fall of a mist; of why our stories are never a linear plot and why success can be failure encased in a shiny wrap.

Granted, you may not have mustered the courage to drag yourself, like this writer, to some oven called a “viewing centre” almost every weekend just to watch your team play, and perhaps, engage in an argument or two. And never mind the suffocating odour oozing from those sullied armpits or that rowdiness that mirrors Idumota bedlam.

But if you believe in dreams and the latent power of the human spirit, 24-year-old Manchester United midfielder Paul Pogba offers a refreshing story that could become a blockbuster any day - depending on how you choose to explore the narrative.

But, first off, how would that script have been written? I will offer a quick guide. 

Just over six or so years ago, the Frenchman was deemed surplus to requirement at Old Trafford under the reign of Sir Alex Ferguson. Perhaps, the scot just couldn’t figure out why the chap should be selected way ahead of the many midfielders that dotted the club at the time. Remember the likes of J.S. Park, Anderson, Danny Welbeck, Ashley Young, Paul Scholes and the then phenomenal Macheda?

No doubt, for a manager of Fergie’s pedigree, you needed to be an Ohan Cruyff to point fingers at his selection style. Or, in Mourinho’s fashion, you will have to be as successful as Ferguson first before mustering the moral authority to puff out your armchair punditry.

Perhaps, there were personal issues in the dressing room – even though Pogba himself dismissed that possibility in one of his press conferences prior to his arrival at Old Trafford. Perhaps, the 20-time EPL title winning manager just couldn’t trust the ability of the youngster. And to confirm that distrust, Ferguson opted to use then right-back Rafael Da Silva in a midfield role when the Red Devils faced Blackburn in December 2011, leaving Pogba to bite his lips on the bench.

That was the height – at least – for anyone who has the slightest grasp of a football team formation. And the situation got no better.

To end a long, boring story, in 2012, the youngster was shipped out to Serie A side Juventus, and there and then, a new story was afoot. But it was not a fairytale either, considering that his first season with the Italian giants saw him grab 37 appearances with just five goals to show for it. And the story went on.   

Then, enter 2016. The eyes of United’s scouts wandered all the way down to Turin in Italy, and Pogba was the cynosure of their eyes. For a club in need of reinforcement in the middle of the pack, it was only common to assume Pogba will rekindle the memories of a Paul Scholes spraying pinging passes or a Roy Keane dictating the tempo of the game. By the time the young Frenchman featured in the first two games for the Red Devils, Pogba offered glimpses of his energy, presence and composure in United’s midfield – even though this was later to be followed by a run of drab spells.

For now, Pogba is far from being the smash hit everyone anticipated. Often a subject of attack and hatred in the court of public opinion, there are interesting lessons to be gleaned from his narrative.

First, Pogba’s story reminds us that human memory is fickle, and at best, selective of what it chooses to remember. Let me be a bit specific.

Society doesn’t really give a damn about track records, as much as we tend to flash that card. It’s a deeper irony that should prick us much more than the way President Buharihandled the Babachir grass-cutting saga or the herdsmen crisis.

Check Pogba, for instance. When he rises to the occasion, everyone cheers, oblivious of his previous unimpressive displays. Newspaper headlines merely follow that fashion, leaving all of us drooling. In those moments, all his "sins" are forgiven. But it’s when he struggles that critic – especially fans of rival football clubs and pundits – remember to flash his hefty price tag before our face as a yardstick for measuring his impact.

And here is the point.

Achievements on a previous job may get you in the door, but that marking scheme soon changes once you fade into the daily grind of some cubicle or corner office. The honeymoon ends the very day you get inducted into that organization; the very day you shed that newbie toga. It’s either you perform or perish.

So, while on the job, you will have to work your ass enough to justify the flowery tang of your resume. Forget your awards; forget the eulogies from your previous bosses. Forget everything. Every job offers a blank slate to write a new story and justify the sublimit of your resume. And until you hit a home run in your current job, your previous heroics are nothing. Absolutely nothing!

In the end, life is just another story with a compound-complex plot. It is capricious; sometimes you burn, other times you crash – apologies to John Legend. Sometimes, the sail is as smooth as silk. Other times, you course through life, wishing it never happened.

But in the end, only one thing counts: you succeed or fail. If you don’t choose the former, you can never miss the later.