Prior to Minnesota United's pre-season friendly with Bournemouth on Wednesday evening, we imagine that Sammy Ndjock was filled with hope, optimism, and a zest for life. It was a balmy, sunlit evening in the Midwest, and Sammy was about to deputise in goal for the Minnesotans. He was ready to take his place between those familiar posts, stand firm on his well-worn patch of turf and play the game of his life. There was a part of him which though that maybe, just maybe, this could be his moment to shine.Then this own goal happened, and all of his dreams came tumbling down.
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This is physically painful to watch, to be honest. This is the own goal to end all own goals. The mechanics of it are hard to comprehend but, in essence, Sammy attempts a quick throw, aborts the procedure at the last second and, consequently, hurls the ball into the back of his own net, helpless to intervene as it nestles neatly in the bottom corner. The hopelessness of his sprint back towards the goal line epitomises the inherent impotence of man, while the sight of him crumpling to the ground in despair is an emblem of the cold finality which awaits us all.Sammy Ndjock has redefined the meaning of the own goal. This is more than just a moment of slapstick inelegance. It is a glimpse into the otherworld of our spiritual clumsiness, a glance into the pit of human despair.