OPPORTUNITY COST

I had no illusions about my academic abilities. Or disabilities, if you will. I was a below average student in senior secondary. All the theoretical guff posed a semi-serious challenge to me; the challenge of assimilation and application of such knowledge to practical, everyday life. I didn't rightly understand the destructive distillation of coal. Or the vulcanization of rubber. Or the memorization of those phylums.
On the other hand, I liked the geography and technical drawing classes because their lessons were immediately tangible. Most of all, I really enjoyed the economics classes as those lessons immediately ensued in the real world. The concept of demand & supply, the concept of scale of preference, the concept of forgone alternatives -- I liked stuff like that. Though, I feel now, as I felt then, that the concept of hustling and making money ought to be one of the clear, main tenets of O'level economics -- but that's a topic for another day.

One of those economics lessons proved invaluable these past weeks. Amongst a shitload of competing demands (and limited time), I had to arrange competing priorities in order of their relative importance. My B.Sc special project that had stalled and threatened to derail the hustle was given undivided attention. Thankfully, I completed the work last week and got it signed. And approved. In a couple of months, I'll be able to sign off college and actually do something with my life. I am mighty relieved, gaskiya!

For the aficionados of this platform (if there are any), I'm sure you people must've been wondering where I went. E ma binu. I would have informed you of the recess earlier, but I prefer to talk about my bets after they come in (a bad trait I'm looking to cut out). Apologies.

I'm glad to see that birds are still sounding like birds and rats are still sounding like rats. (Yorùbá people will understand that line). Normal services have resumed from hereupon.
I thank you for your indulgence.

--->>>Captaincue (Ramadan Kareem)

GERRARD, ORUBEBE, APOLOGIES & (IR)RESPONSIBILITY

A fortnight ago, Liverpool played host to Man United in a feisty fixture at Anfield. When commonsense finally prevailed for Mr Van Gaal, he quit trying to look clever, ditched his terrible 3-5-2 formation and reverted to the more traditional FourAtTheBack. That incited an upturn in form for the Manchester club and their supporters had high hopes of leaving Anfield with something. United dominated the first half, Mr Rodgers brought his inspirational captain (Gerrard) on for the second 45. He was sent off 38seconds later for stamping on the leg of the beautiful Ander Herrera.
After effectively costing his team the game with a forgivable rush of blood to the head, Gerrard had this to say after the match: "I've let down my teammates and the supporters -- I take full responsibility.....I've just come out here to apologise to the dressing room and the supporters."
After the match, his manager quipped; "At least he was man enough to come out and make that apology."
Fair enough, I remember I thought.

A fortnight later, Presidential elections held in my country (Nigeria). When the results were being announced, a former Minister of the Federal Republic suffered a meltdown and lambasted the chairman of the electoral body; accusing him of bias towards the opposition and rank incompetence on live television. The attack was vociferous. It was vicious. Later on, he had this to say: " I apologise generally to Nigerians -- especially to the younger generation. I want to say if my action hurt them, I deeply regret it. I am normally a man of peace and a child of God...... I earnestly beg to be forgiven in spite of the embarrassment caused to our dear people. I am indeed sorry. I was only pushed to the wall."
Fair enough, I remember I thought.

On first inspection (in both cases), I shrugged and said, " Oh, aren't we all susceptible to occasional brain farts?". Surely, if a man shows shows contrition and agreeable mortification (accepting responsibility), he should be forgiven.
On second inspection however, I read through the lines and cut through the bullshit. I think Gerrard and Orubebe are, regardless of their apologies, still, dickheads. Not because of the offense, but by the wording of their apologies and those those apologies were (not) offered to.

You 'accept responsibility' for stamping on a man's fibula with iron studs, potentially ending his career, get caught by the referee, noncommittally shrug your shoulders, point at your chest; gesticulating "Me?!", act surprised at being sent off before shamefully walking off for an early bath.
That is no wahala at all. When confronted with an embarrassing situation, its hard to know how to react on the spot. But when stuff boils over, normalcy returns and you're afforded time to reflect on your heinous misdeed. What you say at that point is a barometer of your person.

It is at this point that you publicly apologise to those you hurt (even if you surreptitiously abhor ill-feelings towards them). Gerrard apologized to supporters, teammates and 'younger folks who saw that'. The man he stamped conspicuously missing from that list. The man he hurt gàngàn! For God's sake.

Even if we all know Mr Orubebe will probably cut Professor Jega's throat with a garotte behind closed doors, it just smacks of a reprehensible character that you failed to include the man you impugned his honour in your apology.
But so long as you accept responsibility, its all fine and dandy.

Apology not accepted, you irresponsible twats.

--->>>Captaincue (not a fencist, so I'm saying #SaiBuhari)