In a display of choreographed mediocrity that would make a circus clown weep with envy, the Africa Cup of Nations 2025 has finally wheezed to its inevitable conclusion. Senegal has emerged 'victorious,' a term we use loosely to describe a group of men who managed to kick a sphere into a mesh pocket more effectively than their opponents. In the grand theater of the absurd, Pape Gueye—a man whose primary contribution to human history is now defined by a single, desperate swing of his leg in extra time—scored the 'stunning' goal. We call it stunning because it briefly interrupted the collective coma of a viewing public that has been conditioned to find meaning in the trajectory of synthetic leather.

The final was, predictably, 'controversial.' In the modern lexicon of sports journalism, 'controversial' is a polite euphemism for 'incompetent' or 'corrupt,' depending on which side of the gambling debt you currently occupy. Whether it was a missed call, a questionable VAR intervention, or the general aura of organizational shambles that haunts such events, the controversy is the only thing that keeps the narrative alive. It provides a convenient focal point for the masses to vent their frustrations, allowing them to scream at a referee rather than at the systemic rot that ensures their local infrastructure remains as fragile as a goalkeeper’s ego. Both sides are, as usual, hallucinating. The losers feel cheated, which is a comfortable, familiar feeling that absolves them of the need to actually improve, while the winners feel like conquerors who have overcome some cosmic injustice.

Let us analyze the 'spectacle' with the cold eye of a coroner. The tournament’s conclusion is heralded as a triumph of the human spirit, a soaring testament to the unity of the continent. This is, of course, absolute drivel. The Left will frame this as a moment of pan-African glory, conveniently ignoring the fact that the underlying logistics of such tournaments are often held together by the vague hope that international creditors won't notice the cost overruns. The Right, meanwhile, will pivot to the 'efficiency' of the Senegalese squad, using the victory as a metaphor for national discipline while their own political platforms continue to crumble into a heap of populist platitudes. Neither side cares about the football; they care about the optics. They care about the photo op with the trophy, a piece of silver-plated metal that serves as a temporary blindfold for a populace that might otherwise notice their plummeting purchasing power.

Pape Gueye’s goal in extra time was 'stunning' only in the sense that it stunned the audience into believing, for a fleeting second, that any of this mattered. It was a mechanical execution of a physical task, yet the narratives being spun around it are Shakespearean in their delusion. We are told this goal 'decided' a final. What did it decide, exactly? It decided which federation gets to polish an ornament and which one has to write a formal letter of complaint to the Confederation of African Football. It decided which group of millionaires gets to return to their European club teams with a slightly higher market value. For the average person on the street in Dakar or beyond, the only thing decided is that the noise will continue for a few more days before the reality of the daily grind reasserts its crushing dominance.

Then there is the 'quiz'—the archival impulse of the bored. We are invited to name every winner of the Africa Cup of Nations as if memorizing a ledger of irrelevance constitutes intelligence. To what end do we store this data? To prove we can recall the names of entities that successfully distracted their populaces for ninety minutes plus stoppage time? It is a catalog of the ephemeral. Senegal 2025 will be added to the list, a digital ink stain on the scroll of human distraction. We archive these moments because we are terrified of the silence that comes when the cheering stops and we are left alone with the realization that the world is no better than it was before the kickoff.

The 'fantastic' final of AFCON 2025 is just another chapter in the Great Book of Nothing. Senegal has the trophy. The fans have their temporary dopamine hit. The politicians have their distractions. And the rest of us are left waiting for the next cycle of 'unprecedented' events to divert our attention from the fact that the wheel keeps turning, but the carriage is permanently stuck in the mud. Congratulations to Senegal, I suppose. You won a game. You successfully navigated a controversial maze of whistles and grass. Now, please, return to reality. It is significantly less 'stunning' and far more 'controversial' than anything Pape Gueye could ever do with his feet. The game is over, the grass will be mowed, and the trophy will collect dust, which is the most honest thing about this entire charade.