I once saw a toddler chasing some blue balloons in Central Park, NYC. The wind was up against him, and gravity was his nemesis. But he charged like a warrior in a diaper — no plans, no fear, just vibes and his tiny feet. He fell, got up, fell again, and got up faster, eyes on the blue balloon! No care what the odds were, whether he got one of the balloons or not, his eyes were locked on the balloons. It was his Ballon d’Or.
This got me thinking… Maybe that’s it. That’s the formula for life?
Be too innocent to quit. Too stubborn to listen. Too ridiculous to know when you’re beaten. The universe folds eventually, sometimes after a hundred ‘No’s, and then, you begin again at one.
Now, I don’t know if the toddler caught one of the balloons, all the balloons, or none of the balloons. I had already walked past. But what stayed with me was that he kept at it; I could already imagine the balloon in his hands.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but for me, they’ve always been my quiet cameras, sharp and attentive. I don’t carry a lens you can hold, but I capture meaningful moments, like my observation of the toddler chasing the blue balloons. Trying to figure me out? Wondering if this inner camera runs on the mechanical precision of Android, or the polished iOS? But I’m neither, I run on something I call AyOS — A system I built, not from Silicon Valley, but from soul and struggle. Powered by my memory, and updated through every loss I learnt from.
Then there’s my alter ego, Ayodroid — Cold, calculated, poetic and precise, scoring 9/9 at only 1o years of age, and growing to become the fastest blitz player in 2022, dominating from the knockout stages to the final. Between all that, I wandered through life’s offline mode. But now? AyOS is back online, rebooted, rewired, not to compete, but to continue the story.
The Fabric of Memory
Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards. — Soren Kierkegaard
Memory is not just about recall, it’s a compass of echoes. Every game I lost became an oak seed sprouting fast and providing me with a shade on the scorched path to my becoming.
I believe Identity isn’t fixed; it flickers and is sometimes in transit. Most times, I find myself wandering through the archive of my being. I so happen to be a grandmaster at remembering, recalling things I wasn’t even looking for.
Kierkegaard whispered a timeless truth: I can only come to the understanding of my existence in retrospect. It’s a deep seek, so, like all seekers, I turned around and walked down the memory lane. This isn’t just any lane, it’s a tour into my checkered squares stretched across time, every square a step, every piece a memory.
In the passage of chess and time, I caught the first smile of Caïssa.
Take a step back with me to the very first move. 1.e4 c5
It was November 2004, the final round of the Femi Badejo Under-10 chess tournament. I had won 8 out games out of 8 games. One last match stood between me and a perfect run. But across the board was no ordinary opponent; he was the reigning force, a three-time champion, a child chess prodigy. When the pairings were posted, whispers floated through the tournament hall like smoke: “He is too good, no one can beat him.”
Even my coach didn’t seem to believe I could pull it off, and honestly, who would blame him? Just a few weeks before the tournament, he hadn’t even heard my name, so I wasn’t selected to join the team. I was just that quiet boy in the background, always watching, never playing. Hands tucked behind my back, memorizing every move without touching a piece. So, no surprise that when the tournament selection came, my name was missing. But I begged. I didn’t want a handout, I just wanted a chance. This was my first tournament, my first real match. And now, somehow, I was here in the final round, face to face with a renowned king, hoping to slay.
The game started like a slow burn. I played with fear, triple-checking every move. He was solid as a fortress, calm, and unshaken.
But what do they say about purple patches? Those rare moments when the universe tilts slightly in your favor. And somewhere in the middle game, Caïssa, the goddess of chess, must have smiled. I caught it. A spark. I was threatening checkmate in two moves! He wryly offered a draw, hoping I was as naive as his coaches may have told him. But again, I triple-checked the position and declined his offer.
Then came his last trick — a desperate trap, but I saw it and dogged it. I understood that the hardest game to win is a won game, so I didn’t flinch and took it bit by bit in clinical fashion. He had no choice but to resign. I sat there, still, almost breathless. Was I dreaming? Please don’t wake me up.
He walked out of the hall, and I walked into my story. I ran outside and found my coach, Mr Boyo Paul. “I won”, I said, almost in a whisper. He looked at me for a moment, almost in disbelief, and lifted me onto his shoulders. The boy he didn’t select, the boy who watched in the shadows, now holding the trophy.
First tournament. First shot. First title I had defied the odds. Looking back, the lesson was clear: you don’t need the world to bet on you. Just bet on yourself.
When belief meets discipline, even the uninvited can become unforgettable.
Flashbacks: Origins of the dream 2.♘f3 a6
Invest in preparedness, not prediction — Nassim Nicholas Taleb
In 2022, I made a move that surprised even my closest allies. I left Team Oyo, the team with which I shared countless victories and a bunch of team gold medals, to join the Delta State Team at the National Sports Festival. To many, it felt like a miscalculation, but I wasn’t chasing safe bets, I had been investing in preparedness, and I got an opportunity to test myself outside of the comfortable Team Oyo.
I wanted to grow and change the dynamics. This decision was a black swan moment. In Nassim Taleb’s words, black swan events are rare, high-impact moments that are only explainable in hindsight.
That tournament reminded me that success doesn’t come from playing it safe or trying to predict everything. It comes from deep preparation, believing in yourself, and having the courage to disrupt your comfort. Maybe I was a little crazy, but sometimes, doing what feels right matters more than doing what looks good.
Joining Team Delta wasn’t just a change of team, it meant stepping into unfamiliar territory, without the system I was used to. No guarantees, no reputation, just grit. But I came prepared and I delivered. In the Blitz event, I went on a perfect streak, handing all my strong opponents zeros from the knockout stages to the finals. This wasn’t a walk in the park, but I was prepared. I won the Blitz gold medal, silencing doubts and rewriting expectations. And it didn’t stop there, I also secured an individual gold medal in the classical section, showing consistency across formats. Yes, we didn’t get the team gold, only bronze, but my performance wasn’t just strong, it was defining.
It’s not pride if you can back it with the results. That tournament became a metaphor for how we face transitions, how we adapt when the systems shift, and how we respond when fate knocks in unfamiliar ways. It’s easy to ride with a winning team, but it’s harder to become the reason a team wins. I didn’t defy the odds by chance, but by preparing wholeheartedly, regardless of who believed or doubted.
Although the National Sports Festival was my last tournament in Nigeria, it wasn’t just an end but a defining moment of legacy for me. As Nietzsche said, he who has a why to live can bear almost any how.
Blueprints 3.d4 cxd5
A fire that survives the wind does not ask for permission to burn. — Cormac McCarthy
I had never been to the World Chess Olympiad. For a decade, I wanted it badly, but it never happened. Every single time, there was something in my way, either I didn’t make the top 5, or I was close but not selected. So, I kept grinding and hoping.
Then, finally, I made it! I was one of the top 3 chess players in Nigeria. I thought, ‘This is it.’ But then COVID hit. Lockdown. Everything paused. No Olympiad.
After the lockdown, Russia was set to host, but plans changed, and India stepped in to host in Chennai. The moment I’d waited for! But something had shifted. I didn’t want it anymore, not because I doubted my chances, but because the goal had changed. I had changed, too. I didn’t go.
Fast forward to 2024, I wasn’t top 5 anymore, I had dropped in rankings, especially after playing in the U.S, I had lost rating points and fallen out of the top 10 in Nigeria. Some people started to forget what I was capable of, but I didn’t.
I requested a wild card to represent Nigeria, and it was granted. Then came the noise; he is not active, why him? He doesn’t deserve it, he’s abroad now. What they didn’t know, or chose to forget, is that even at a lower rating, I’m still a serious threat to the top-rated players in Nigeria. That’s not ego, it’s pure facts. Nowadays, I measure my standings at the global level, and not through the lens of West Africa.
Facts rarely change people’s opinions, because most opinions are not formed by facts, but by emotions. Most of my supposed teammates didn’t get visas, so only 3 of them made it to Budapest. And that wild card slot everyone criticized? It ended up being the key to the team’s build-up. Nigeria finished top 100, and we earned a FIDE World Cup slot and maybe one of our best performances at the Chess Olympiad, considering we had just two male and two female players in the open category.
It’s funny how life works. You want something so badly and don’t get it. Then the moment you stop chasing it. It walks up to you and says, ‘Let’s go.’
After 10 years, I finally played in the Chess Olympiad. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t flashy, but it was powerful, and it taught me this: you don’t need validation to be valuable. Just do your thing, keep showing up. Don’t beg people to dream with you. Dream anyway!
I am grateful the Federation gave me that chance, and in hindsight, it turned out to be one of the best decisions they made.
An inkless thought, you don’t always get to draw your blueprint in ink. Sometimes, life sketches it for you with rejection, delay, and confusion. But if your foundation is solid, if you’re genuinely building capacity, and your fire survives the wind, then you don’t need a perfect plan.
You are the blueprint.
Reconciliation: The Future in the Mirror 4.♘xd4 ♘f6
“You are not going to be free until you take responsibility for your life. Lost boys stay lost because they avoid the hard work of growing up.” Jordan peterson
Getting lost can feel like staring into a mirror that shows a future flipped upside down — familiar, yet confusing. I used to be a lost boy who grew up with the idea that life is a straight line. You study, you work, and you succeed. One step leads to the next. Even in chess, not all pieces move in straight lines.
Lost boys struggle precisely because of this illusion; they expect life to obey a rule book, and when it doesn’t, they stall. They are not lazy, not doomed, they are just misled by the myth of the straight line.
I used to believe that mastering linear patterns meant mastering anything — even chess, where each move plays out like geometry on a predictable board. But then I got lost in a new city, and everything I thought I knew began to shift.
Creativity is the shot that changes the game, but you must be willing to look through skewed lines.
Make peace with the clock 5.♘c3 e5
If you were paying attention to the details of the subtopics, I just played the first five moves of a chess game. Nice, huh?
The clock is a steady reminder that time keeps moving, whether we notice it or not, and life spares no one from its unpredictable winds, yet we must thrive, adapt and endure.
As FM Fawolizzo says, ‘You just have to believe that everything is figureoutable, even in chaos.’ Time pressure can be chaotic, and life may seem to be fast-paced, but then I keep these words in mind that everything is figureoutable and I come to the peace of the unknown, and make peace in preparedness against the clocks.
I am no longer blitzing through life, I am now learning to slow down, to reflect, understanding when to step back, and when to let go. In our world that pressures us into constant output, that act of pausing is revolutionary.
Always remember to pause, rewind, and fast forward. This isn’t goodbye, just a thoughtful pause.