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By the time Tony jogged onto the pitch, the others had already started warming up. 

Kenny was the first to see him panting down the field with his small bag in one hand and a football boot in the other.

“Ah, our kitchen husband finally arrived!” Kenny shouted.

Moses turned to see him. He smiled, “Dude, she finally let you go? Or did you escape?”

“He probably just finished pounding yams,” Kenny added, wiping sweat off his face. 

The rest of the men at St. Luke’s Primary School. The field where they all gathered for a football game every Saturday morning was laughing. It had become a routine for them, four fathers, escaping home like boys running from chores every Saturday morning. They played football, not because they were good at it, but because it was the only place and time nobody called them “Daddy” or asked for money. The only place where their wives or kids don't have access to them. 

Kenny, the loudest in the group who was a former banker but now sells car spare parts at the spare parts market, felt he was the leader of the group. To him, his wife had a PhD in shouting.

Moses was the opposite of Kenny. He was always quiet. A school teacher with four children and a wife who, according to him, had stopped smiling many years ago.

Tony, 'the mystery man' was always late. In their group, he was that guy who never complained much, just smiled and stretched like nothing in the world could rush him. This made his friends wonder if his experience was more than theirs. They always pity him.

Their usual playing routine was the regular two-a-side, with laughter and jokes louder than their skills. Then after the game, they'll sit under the mango tree, catching their breath, sucking sachet water, and drowning themselves in bottles of beer like it was therapy.

“So, Tony,” Kenny began, grinning. “What’s the excuse today? Did she send you to peel beans?” he asked after a big gulp on the bottle of beer in his hands 

There were suppressed chuckles from the others.

Tony smiled. "There's no excuse. I had to get the kids ready for their prep class." 

Moses stretched his hands to reach Tony's shoulders. With a concerned voice. “I've always told you,  blink twice if she’s stressing you. We can help you,” he said with a breath stinking of alcohol. 

The rest laughed. 

Tony laughed with them. Then gently, he put his bottle of beer down, looked from one friend to the other, and sat up straight.

“There is absolutely no need to blink twice." He said to Moses. "And I’m not late because I was peeling beans,” he said calmly. “I’m late because I was just being a father.”

The laughter stopped. Kenny blinked.

“You what?”

"I was being a father. Helping my wife get the kids ready. I mean, it's a normal thing isn't it?" 

"You help? In a house built with your money?" Kenny asked.

“Yes, I do help. I made breakfast for my kids, helped bathe the twins, and cleaned them up before I left. That’s why I was late.”

Moses sat up. "Now you really need to blink twice."

Kenny squinted like Tony had just confessed witchcraft. "For what it's worth, I think Moses is right. She forced you to do all that, didn't she?"

Tony's eyes widened in surprise and disgust. "No! I do all that willingly? Wait, you guys don't do that.”

"You're asking if our wife punishes us with chores at home after a hard day at work?" It was Moses this time.

Tony shook his head. He was getting irritated at his friends now. “Helping my wife is not punishment. It’s love. If you love your wife you'll help her with stuff at home. And yes. I love my wife. She does the same for me every single day.”

For a few seconds, nobody said anything. Even the breeze. It felt like it paused to listen. They had even forgotten about their bottles of beer.

“Are you sure she didn’t give you something in your soup?” Kenny asked finally, but his voice had lost its usual sharpness.

Tony smiled again. “No soup. Just peace of mind. And being a father."

"Then if you're happy at home, why come here with us every Saturday?" Kenny asked.

"Because it's sports. I'm trying to keep fit." Tony replied.

"Not because your wife nags?" Kenny just couldn't believe it. 

"My wife is the best!"

Moses scratched his head. “But how? How do you keep that kind of home?”

“I stopped trying to win. Marriage is not competition. I learned to play on the same side as her. That’s the real game.”

The words sat on them like a weight. Heavy but honest. They couldn't talk anymore. Their bottles of beer felt heavy in their hands. They just sat there in silence with the cooked breeze caressing their skin. 

Kenny felt his mind race, he couldn't believe that for weeks, they had been meeting at the pitch in a guise to escape from home with a game of football. To breathe. To complain. He had never thought of going home with solutions. He felt bad not for himself or for Tony but for Moses. For leading him wrong all this while. And for not trying to mend his almost broken marriage and family.

"I've got to go. My kids will be done by now." Tony broke the silence looking at his watch.

"Yeah me too." The others chorused. They all got up, packed their stuff, and left.

On their drive home, Moses couldn't stop thinking about what Tony said. It rang in his mind like a favorite song.

*“I stopped trying to win. Marriage is not competition. I learned to play on the same side as her. That’s the real game.”*

He vowed to stop trying to win the game of marriage with his wife and play on the same side with her. This time he meant it.

By the next Saturday when everyone had gathered at the pitch again. Things were different.

This time Tony arrived first. Booted, stretched, smiling, and waiting for the others.

A few minutes later, Kenny walked in holding a small cooler. Moses came next. He looked lighter. His shirt was tucked in.

Tony looked at them confused. "Dude, why do you have a cooler? I know we drink after the game but we usually buy over there." He said pointing to a bar outside the field. "And you Moses, tucked shirts for a game of football?" 

“It's not beer. My wife fried us puff-puff. I told her about the match. She said to share.” Kenny explained putting on his boots.

"That's new," Tony said, eyes widened and a smile on his face. "What's your story, Moses?" He looked from Kenny to Moses.

 “My wife ironed this for me. Says I look good with clothes tucked in," he said with quiet pride. Then proceeded to change into sports wear.

"That's new too. What's happening, guys? Nobody's angry at their wife today?" Tony asked, sitting down and looking into their faces. They looked happy and with life.

"I guess I took your advice last week," Kenny explained, standing to his feet all dressed and booted. Then he stretched.

"Same here. Dude, last night was my best night. I'm sure with what we did my wife will be pregnant by next week." Moses laughed. 

They laughed.

Tony couldn't believe it. He didn’t say it out loud, but he knew within him something had changed.

Just before he hit the pitch, Kenny slapped Tony's back.

“Today you came on time. What happened?”

Tony grinned. “She said, ‘Go. They need you today.’”

Moses nodded. “Omo, this one has balanced marriage finish.”

They laughed again. Their feet, touching the pitch and kicking the football.