The frenzy of the 2026 World Cup has unarguably formed the headlines of many media outlets. For the first time in history, the World Cup is being hosted by three different countries—Canada, Mexico, and the United States. Also, FIFA introduced an additional knockout stage, the Round of 32, allowing the competition to expand from 32 to 48 participating nations.
Sadly, Nigeria did not qualify for the second consecutive World Cup. Ironically, despite Nigeria’s absence, the nation’s presence is still felt throughout the tournament. The official FIFA World Cup 2026 signature song was co-composed by Nigerian global music icon Burna Boy alongside Shakira. Beyond music, 16 players of Nigerian descent represented nine different countries.
Just to mention a few: Bukayo Saka (England), Michael Olise (France), Folarin Balogun (United States), Manuel Akanji (Switzerland), and Ime Okon (South Africa). Notably, several of these players were at one time eligible to represent Nigeria but instead chose other national teams.
This has sparked robust debate across social media. Some have criticized them as being unpatriotic. Others have defended their decisions. Many remain undecided.
Adding to the discussion, I would like to begin with a few questions:
Would these players have reached their current potential had they represented Nigeria? Would Nigeria’s sporting systems, governance structures, policies, and institutional culture have enabled them to develop, compete, and consistently perform at the highest level?
From a strategic foresight perspective, I believe these are the more important questions.
Strategic foresight teaches us that the future is rarely determined by talent alone. It is shaped by the systems we build, the environments we cultivate, and the decisions we make today. Nations do not become globally competitive by producing gifted individuals; they become competitive by intentionally designing ecosystems where talent can consistently emerge, flourish, and remain.
Perhaps the real issue is not why these players chose other countries. Perhaps the more strategic question is: What kind of future is Nigeria designing for its next generation of athletes?
If our institutions consistently reward excellence, embrace meritocracy, invest in youth development, ensure transparent governance, and create pathways from grassroots football to the global stage, the conversation may look very different in the next decade.
The World Cup should therefore be more than entertainment for Nigeria. It should serve as a strategic mirror, revealing both our unrealized potential and the systemic gaps that continue to export our best talents while importing disappointment.
This conversation extends far beyond football. The same questions apply to our education system, healthcare, research, entrepreneurship, technology, governance, and leadership. Whenever our brightest minds believe they have greater opportunities elsewhere, it is not merely a migration issue—it is a systems issue.
The future belongs to nations that intentionally build environments where people do not simply succeed despite the system but because of it.
What are your thoughts? Is this primarily a question of patriotism, personal opportunity, or the quality of the systems we have built?
Can Nigeria become a net importer of global talent, or will we continue exporting our best? The answer lies in the systems we choose to build today.
