Daniel Otera
When Peter Rufai passed away on Thursday at the age of 61, Nigeria didn’t just lose a football legend it lost a mirror to its failure to protect those who once made the nation proud.
Known affectionately as “Dodo Mayana”, the former Super Eagles captain was more than a shot-stopper. He was a symbol of Nigeria’s golden football era of the 1990s, revered for his leadership, agility, and passion. Yet, beneath the wave of tributes that followed his death lies a deeper national crisis: Nigeria has no sustainable system to care for its retired sports heroes as in the case of heroes in other spheres.
“He was in the hospital for a while,” said former international Segun Odegbami. “Now I am at a loss and need to find out what has happened.”
Though the exact cause of death remains unconfirmed, Rufai’s final years like those of many of his peers raise urgent questions about post-career welfare, healthcare access, and what becomes of Nigerian athletes once the floodlights fade.
Despite the glory they brought to Nigeria, many members of the 1990s Super Eagles golden generation have spent their retirement in quiet hardship plagued by inadequate healthcare and minimal institutional support.
From history, at least seven notable former internationals have died under circumstances that spotlight Nigeria’s fragile post-career welfare system. These include: Samuel Okwaraji, who collapsed during a 1989 World Cup qualifier in Lagos; Rashidi Yekini, who passed away in 2012 following years of mental health struggles and isolation; Stephen Keshi, who died of cardiac arrest in 2016, months after losing his wife; Wilfred Agbonavbare, who succumbed to cancer in Spain in 2015, reportedly without official support;
Isaac Promise and Justice Christopher, both of whom died without formal assistance; And now, Peter Rufai.
In 2019, the National Association of Nigeria Professional Footballers (NANPF) described the situation as a “welfare crisis”, citing widespread cases of poverty, poor health, and neglect among ex-players.
“It is no longer news that we have scores of players, both current and former, facing real hardship,” said NANPF President, Tijani Babangida. “Many of our ex-players are living in poverty and have no one to turn to when ill or in distress.”
Although the Footballers’ Welfare Trust Fund was launched by NANPF in 2019 to provide emergency support, its implementation remains weak. There is limited transparency around how much funding the trust has raised or how many players it has helped.
Reports compiled by Guardian Nigeria and PUNCH Sports Extra show that most retired footballers receive no structured pension, health insurance, or transition support, despite representing Nigeria for years on the international stage.
A 2021 report by the Sports Rights Advocacy Network confirmed that Nigeria lacks a statutory framework for athlete welfare, leaving retired players dependent on ad-hoc donations or personal savings.
“We gave our youth to serve Nigeria,” said former goalkeeper Emmanuel Babayaro. “But there is no insurance, no pension, nothing for the future. Most of us are just surviving.”
Even with the professionalisation of the Nigeria Premier Football League (NPFL), there is no government-backed pension scheme for players. A 2020 MoU between NANPF and Sigma Pensions sought to introduce voluntary retirement savings for current professionals but its coverage is limited.
While NPFL club owners approved life and injury insurance for active players and officials in 2025, the intervention stops short of providing long-term post-retirement support. According to NANPF’s 2022 internal report, only a fraction of active players had enrolled in the pension scheme due to poor awareness and inconsistent remittance by clubs.
At the state level, no Nigerian state government runs a structured pension or welfare scheme for ex-footballers. This leaves many vulnerable especially those who played before the lucrative foreign contract era.
“I was told to leave with nothing when my knee gave out,” said a former topflight player. “No surgery. No insurance. Nothing. That’s how we are discarded.”
Rufai spent his post-retirement years mentoring young players through his Staruf Football Academy in Lagos. It was a personal initiative, one that received no formal government support, despite its contribution to grassroots development.
According to the Nigeria Football Federation (NFF), over 40 football academies operate nationwide, yet fewer than 18% receive any government funding. Most rely on private contributions, tuition fees, and the goodwill of retired players like Rufai.
Nigeria’s 2024 federal budget allocated ₦12.7 billion to the Ministry of Youth and Sports Development, but only ₦1.3 billion was earmarked for grassroots sports. In contrast, South Africa budgeted R1.1 billion (₦47 billion) in 2023 for sports and recreation including athlete pension support.
“He wanted to raise footballers who were educated,” said a Staruf academy coach. “He paid for uniforms and transport from his own pocket.”
In countries like Ghana, Morocco, and South Africa, ex-internationals are absorbed into football systems post-retirement serving as youth coaches, scouts, or development officers.
South Africa’s Sports Trust Fund provides grants and healthcare to retired athletes.
Ghana’s Ministry of Youth and Sports, in partnership with the National Pensions Regulatory Authority, recently launched a dedicated athlete pension scheme.
Stephen Appiah, Laryea Kingston, and others have held official roles within the Ghana Football Association.
By contrast, in Nigeria, Rufai received no national honour, no testimonial match, and was never appointed to a technical or coaching role within the Super Eagles.
“We don’t have a legacy system for our sports heroes,” said veteran journalist Mitchell Obi on Channels TV. “That’s why many die in obscurity.”
Tributes came swiftly following Rufai’s death: “Forever in our hearts, Dodo Mayana,” tweeted the NFF.
“Your spirit will inspire future generations,” wrote Super Eagles captain Ahmed Musa.
“A profound loss,” said former Vice President Atiku Abubakar. Even President Bola Tinubu has described his death as a great loss to the nation’s sports. But these tributes often replace what is truly needed: policy, pensions, and post-career plans.
The absence of any national database to track ex-athletes’ welfare reflects a larger national pattern where symbolism replaces systemic action.
In stark contrast, the same day Rufai died, Diogo Jota, the 28-year-old Liverpool and Portugal forward, also tragically passed away. Within hours, UEFA, FIFA, and Liverpool FC released statements. His career was backed by layers of contracts, unions, medical care, and financial security structures Nigerian athletes still lack. Liverpool has declared their commitment towards the education of his three children.
“In Europe, football legends are assets. Here, they’re forgotten after their last match,” said sports analyst Bode Oguntuyi.
Although efforts such as the NANPF-Sigma Pensions plan and occasional donations exist, they remain patchy, inconsistent, and limited in reach.
The death of Peter Rufai should not just provoke tears, it should provoke reform. From establishing a national athletes’ pension scheme, to enforcing club compliance with player welfare agreements, to integrating ex-internationals into formal sports structures, Nigeria must rethink how it treats its heroes.
Rufai’s life demonstrated that greatness can be rooted in discipline, service, and sacrifice not just in medals or match-winning saves. His death now reignites an old question: When will Nigeria stop honouring its football legends only in death and start supporting them in life? Until that changes, Dodo Mayana’s final save may not just be remembered but repeated.