Lanre Adewole/
The question should not be: Have you heard about him?
It should be: Have you met him?
Business magnate, astute administrator, humanitarian, quiet philanthropist and tireless youth builder, Kunle Soname has, by every measure, earned the right to be described as one of the true pillars of football development in Africa. His story is one of vision powered by conviction and sustained by uncommon passion.
Last Thursday, a beloved uncle invited me to accompany him on a visit to the billionaire businessman. Despite my apprehension about the Ogun State highway, the menace of articulated vehicles and the recurring reports of fatal accidents on that corridor, I accepted the offer. And so, we headed for Ikenne, a town that needs little introduction.
Chief Obafemi Awolowo long ago secured Ikenne’s immortality in Nigerian history, placing his birthplace permanently in the consciousness of generations through the force of his ideas, politics and legacy.
In many ways, Ikenne is not just a town; it is a monument in Nigeria’s historical landscape.
The contributions of Fuji maestro, Adewale Ayuba, in projecting the town’s cultural identity also deserve mention. As we drove past a building bearing the inscription “Ereke,” my mind momentarily drifted, not to Awolowo, whose Nigerian Tribune, founded in 1949, has indirectly sheltered my journalism career for more than a quarter of a century, but to Ayuba. After all, “Ereke” belongs more naturally to the world of music and cognomens than to the austere intellectual legacy of Awo.
Different men. Different eras. Different callings.
But immortality wears many garments.
And it would appear another version of it is being carefully, deliberately etched into the sands of time, this time by Soname, building not only for today, but for generations yet unborn.
My uncle, as I later discovered during the trip, is an incurable football enthusiast. He confessed that had medicine not chosen him, football might well have become his profession and destiny.
Even at 73, his eyes still sparkle whenever he speaks about the game.
His relationship with Soname dates back to their days as council administrators in Lagos, but what now binds them is something deeper: a shared belief in the transformative power of developmental football.
As we approached Soname’s sprawling sports complex, my uncle practically delivered an oral biography of the man. Before us stood a magnificent facility, complete with a 6,000-capacity stadium approved by the Confederation of African Football (CAF), a modern football academy, and infrastructure regularly used for continental competitions and training camps by African teams preparing for major tournaments.
Again, one man’s dream.
Just like Awo.
By every standard of contemplation, Soname is a remarkable success story. Though I had recently seen him on television during celebrations marking his birthday, this visit marked my first physical encounter with him. And what a refreshing encounter it turned out to be.
As we approached the reception area of the complex, home ground of Remo Stars FC, another of his visionary projects, he appeared personally to usher us into his office.
Simple attire. Relaxed carriage. Quiet elegance.
No theatrics. No exaggerated air of importance.
Just humility.
My uncle introduced us. Soname did not need to “perform” wealth. Providence had already done that for him. His smile, no, his deep, resonant laughter, filled the room with warmth. Within minutes, everyone felt completely at ease. It was difficult to believe we had only just met.
His humanity was impossible to ignore.
When it was time to leave, I could not help but commend the purposeful way he has deployed the enormous blessings life has placed in his hands. Here is a man whose investments stretch across aviation, sports betting, football clubs at home and abroad, banking, agriculture, petroleum and several other sectors, yet who remains deeply committed to uplifting his place of birth and investing in human capacity.
That, to me, is the highest form of giving back.
As a journalist, I naturally itched to engage him in a formal conversation. But the Yoruba have a saying: there are moments when there is much to discuss but no time to do so, and moments when there is ample time but nothing worthwhile to discuss. The ideal moment is when both finally align.
This visit was never designed as an interview session. It was what the Yoruba would call o to’jo meta, a goodwill, social visit. It would have been improper to ambush him with notebooks and recorders, especially when he had no prior notice that a journalist would be part of the entourage.
Still, even within casual conversation, he displayed impressive depth while discussing politics, governance and the economy, subjects clearly within his intellectual comfort zone as a global businessman and administrator.
Someday, I know, there will be a proper interview.
And when that day comes, there will be no advance questions. Spontaneity often reveals more than rehearsed answers ever can.
Afterward, I took what I would describe as an authorised, semi-supervised tour of the facility, under the watchful eyes of my uncle. I saw young boys in football kits preparing for training sessions, their dreams visible in their faces.
Football remains one of the few universal languages of aspiration. From Belgrade to Ikot-Ekpene, millions of boys dream of becoming the next Ronaldo.
I have some of them in my own home, boys who train relentlessly in our compound under blistering sunlight, undeterred even by the looming threat of malaria and bitter medication afterward.
At the Soname complex, those dreams are being nurtured daily.
The serenity of the environment, the discipline, the pristine cleanliness, the joy radiating from the faces of the young players, everything spoke of intentionality.
Nothing looked staged.
There was no prior notice that a journalist would accompany Soname’s longtime associate. No opportunity for cosmetic adjustments or orchestrated optics. Even the security personnel at the gate performed their duties with admirable diligence, refusing us entry until proper clearance came directly from “Chairman” himself.
Security within the facility was impressively professional.
I genuinely wish Soname would become more publicly engaged, delivering lectures in classrooms and boardrooms, mentoring younger entrepreneurs, speaking more often on governance, administration, youth leadership and business development.
Beyond his accomplishments, there is something profoundly instructive about his personality.
People need to see how immense wealth can coexist with humility. How success can still wear simplicity. How power can remain human.
There is grace in that kind of life.
And perhaps that was the detail that stayed with me most.
Well… almost.
Because I also noticed his wristwatch.
In recent times, wristwatches have quietly become collector’s items for me. Naturally, I stole a glance at Soname’s wrist.
It did not disappoint.
Yet, somehow, even that expensive elegance blended seamlessly into the simplicity of the man himself.
May God deliver some of us from the growing temptation of luxury wristwatches.
Amen.
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