The Nigerian Super Falcons have done it again. And not just with finesse, but with the kind of gutsy, dramatic flair that has become synonymous with the most dominant team in African women’s football. In a stadium pulsing with Moroccan cheers, Nigeria came from behind to beat the hosts 3–2 and claim their record-extending 10th Women’s Africa Cup of Nations (WAFCON) title.
If you blinked during the match, you might have missed a goal, a yellow card, or a moment of sheer magic. The July 26 final wasn’t just a game—it was a pulsating, political, emotional rollercoaster that reminded the continent (and beyond) why African women’s football matters.
At halftime, the outlook was grim for Nigeria. Morocco had scored twice, capitalizing on defensive lapses and what some Nigerians are still calling “VAR voodoo.” Indeed, technology had its own subplot in this drama, with several crucial calls—some debatable, others downright baffling—sparking a whirlwind of criticism online and off. But if Morocco thought they could coast to the title, they hadn’t accounted for the grit that pulses through the DNA of the Falcons.
The comeback was ignited by none other than Asisat Oshoala, the Barcelona striker whose mere presence on the pitch makes defenders nervous and goalkeepers shaky. Her goal in the 52nd minute was clinical, ruthless, and just the morale boost Nigeria needed. From there, the Falcons turned up the heat.
A thunderous equalizer followed just nine minutes later from Esther Okoronkwo, whose long-range strike silenced the Moroccan fans and gave neutrals the game they had hoped for. The decider? A nervy, scrappy, toe-poked goal in the 78th minute by Chinwendu Ihezuo, followed by a celebration that included a cartwheel, a prayer, and a wave to the heavens. Drama, emotion, glory.
This victory was not just about goals. It was about vindication. Nigeria entered the tournament with doubters aplenty. The team’s 2023 World Cup campaign ended in a painful penalty shootout loss to England, and internal disputes with the football federation over pay and bonuses cast long shadows. Critics said the team was aging. Others pointed to a lack of investment in grassroots development and new talent. And then came Morocco, the host nation that had poured resources into building a team from scratch, boasting a passionate fan base and a squad that had stunned favorites South Africa in the semi-final.
For many, Morocco’s rise was a symbol of the new wave in African women’s football: modern, fast-paced, tactically sharp, and state-supported. That narrative still stands—but it was Nigeria who reminded everyone that the old guard isn’t going anywhere just yet.
After the final whistle, Moroccan players collapsed on the pitch—some in tears, others defiant. Nigerian players, meanwhile, danced in a circle, draped in flags, waving to their loyal fans. Oshoala, who had lifted the trophy nine years earlier as a teenager, stood beaming like a warrior queen. “This one is for everyone who counted us out,” she told reporters, still breathless. “We fight. We always fight.”
What now for African women’s football? If this tournament showed anything, it’s that the gap is closing. Morocco’s success wasn’t a fluke. South Africa’s tactical evolution, Zambia’s rise, Ghana’s promising youth—all signal that the days of Nigeria strolling to continental titles are over. But the Super Falcons, through their sheer will, have adapted to that new world. They’ve added resilience to flair, maturity to talent.
Behind the scenes, however, challenges remain. While Nigeria celebrated, there were murmurs of discontent about unequal pay, delayed bonuses, and federation politics. These issues are not unique to Nigeria; they echo across African football. What separates the Falcons, perhaps, is that they continue to win regardless.
The CAF officials, clearly delighted with the global attention the tournament received, now face pressure to build on this momentum. Better pitches. Fair pay. More tournaments. Professional leagues. Sponsorship. Recognition. African women’s football has waited long enough.
As the stadium in Rabat emptied and fans slowly filed out, the echoes of the final rang loud and proud. This wasn’t just a match. It was a metaphor. Old versus new. Experience versus enthusiasm. Grit versus glamour. And in the end, it was Nigeria, once again, who showed the continent—and the world—that they are the standard.
Ten titles now. Ten. And counting.
