That Remo Stars were bashed 5-1 by Mamelodi Sundowns in the second round of the CAF Champions League in Abeokuta is no longer news. What may, however, be newsworthy is the deeper implication of such a heavy home defeat suffered by a Nigerian club at the hands of another African side.

 

In over five decades of following Nigerian football — since 1972 — I struggle to recall a similar humiliation on home soil. Perhaps one may have occurred before then, but the sheer weight of this loss to Sundowns was both historic and symbolic.

 

I saw the anguish on the faces of fans as Sundowns ruthlessly slotted goal after goal past the Remo Stars goalkeeper. Many wept — not just for the club that had given them hope after an impressive win against a team from Comoros in the first round, but for what the result suggested about the state of our domestic football.

 

What moved me wasn’t the tears, but what the defeat exposed about the Nigeria Premier Football League (NPFL). It forced me to consider — maybe the critics are right. Maybe the NPFL isn’t a true merit-based competition. Maybe, as former Nigeria U20 assistant coach Samuel Abimbola once said, “the best Nigerian players are not in the league — they’re in academies, waiting to be shipped abroad.”

 

The performance of Remo Stars seemed to lend credence to this theory. Add to that Rivers United’s loss to a Mozambican team away from home, and a troubling pattern begins to emerge.

 

Still, comparing Remo Stars to Mamelodi Sundowns isn’t completely out of place. Both clubs represent two different ends of Africa’s football development spectrum — Sundowns as a continental superpower, Remo Stars as a symbol of rising ambition.

 

Founded in 1970 and backed by billionaire Patrice Motsepe, Sundowns is a powerhouse. With multiple South African titles and a CAF Champions League crown (2016), they are the epitome of African club excellence — well-run, well-funded, and tactically advanced. Their structure is built on world-class facilities, professional management, and strategic investment in youth.

 

Remo Stars, on the other hand, were only established in 2010 by Nigerian businessman Kunle Soname, yet have rapidly climbed the ranks in Nigeria’s domestic league. They boast a modern stadium, academy infrastructure, and a vision for long-term growth. In a league often plagued by poor funding and outdated management, Remo Stars stand out.

But vision alone doesn’t win continental matches.

Sundowns operate in the DStv Premiership, one of Africa’s best-organized leagues, run by the Premier Soccer League (PSL). With 16 teams, steady schedules, and strong corporate partnerships (like SuperSport and DStv), the South African league is a model of professionalism. Clubs receive broadcast revenue, facilities are top-notch, and players enjoy competitive wages.

 

The NPFL, by contrast, is still battling chronic issues. Most clubs are government-owned and struggle with late salaries and logistical challenges. Sponsorships are limited, and media visibility remains poor. While clubs like Remo Stars have tried to break the mold, they remain exceptions in a broken system.

 

So while it’s tempting to cry for Remo Stars, weep not. We should instead mourn the wider structural failure of Nigerian football. A club like Remo Stars — ambitious, youth-driven, and forward-thinking — deserves to be a symbol of national pride, not a victim of systemic inefficiency.

 

Until we fix the NPFL — ensure transparency, attract real sponsorships, upgrade facilities, and build trust in the domestic game — results like this will continue.

 

Remo Stars may be the ones who lost on the pitch, but the real defeat is ours — the Nigerian football system that continues to let its best efforts down.

 

Weep not for Remo Stars, but for the league that made such defeat inevitable.