AFCON 2025: Forget the Lookman and Osimhen ‘Fight’ — Let’s talk about Alex Iwobi

The internet has exploded with fury and hot takes. Twitter detectives dissected every frame of the 62nd-minute exchange between Victor Osimhen and Ademola Lookman like it was the Zapruder film.

Meanwhile, Alex Iwobi quietly collected the ball in midfield, turned away from pressure with that deceptive body feint he's perfected at Fulham, and threaded another pass that made Mozambique's defensive structure look like it was held together with prayer and duct tape.

Welcome to the story nobody wants to tell about Nigeria's 4-0 demolition job in the AFCON 2025 Round of 16, the one where the most important player on the pitch wasn't arguing with anyone, wasn't showboating for the cameras, and certainly wasn't trending on social media for all the wrong reasons.

Let's not pretend it didn't happen. Around the hour mark, just two minutes past the hour mark, with Nigeria already comfortable at 3-0, Osimhen made a darting run into the channel.

Lookman, receiving the ball wide, took an extra touch. Then another. The Atalanta forward cut inside, surveying his options like a painter considering his canvas.

Osimhen's arms shot up in exasperation. The cameras caught him mouthing something that lip-readers across the continent interpreted as "It’s a team sport", a warning wrapped in frustration and directed at Lookman. 

Moments later, the Galatasaray striker was gesturing toward the bench, signalling to Eric Chelle that he wanted off. The substitution came five minutes later.

Cue the explosion. Within minutes, the clip had been screen-recorded, uploaded, captioned with inflammatory takes, and distributed across every corner of Nigerian football Twitter.

Lookman addressed it after the match with the exhausted patience of a man who's seen this movie before: "Vic is my brother. In football, emotions run high. We won 4-0, that's what matters." He was right, of course. But nuance doesn't get retweets.

While the nation argued about a moment of frustration in a match that was already won, Alex Iwobi was quietly conducting a symphony in midfield.

The 29-year-old Fulham midfielder has spent years operating in that uncomfortable space reserved for players who do everything well but nothing flashy enough to command headlines. 

He's the guy who makes the assist before the assist. The one whose movement creates the space that creates the chance. The player opposition coaches obsess over in their tactical meetings while fans scroll past his name in the starting XI.

Against Mozambique, Iwobi delivered the kind of performance that should be studied in coaching courses, not because of any single moment of brilliance, but because of the relentless accumulation of intelligent decisions that bent the entire match to his will.

Consider the opening goal, Nigeria's breakthrough in the 23rd minute. Iwobi received possession just inside Mozambique's half, three defenders positioned to deny the obvious passing lanes to Lookman on the flanks. 

What happened next lasted maybe two seconds but required years of experience to execute: Iwobi shifted his weight left, drawing the nearest defender with him, then unleashed a through-ball with his right foot that split the defence like a hot knife through butter. Akor Adams collected, Lookman finished. Simple. Except it wasn't simple at all.

The second goal? More of the same, but with a different flavour. This time Iwobi drifted wide, dragging Mozambique's midfield anchor with him and creating a canyon of space in the half-channel. His pass to Lookman eliminated three defenders in one movement, the kind of ball that looks straightforward only because the man playing it makes it look that way.

The numbers tell the story that the highlights miss: 76 completed passes, the most of any player on the pitch. Three key passes, the kind that statisticians define as passes leading directly to a shot. 

9 of 11 long balls completed, each one perfectly weighted, each one delivered with the timing of a maestro who knows exactly when the orchestra needs to crescendo. 26 passes into the final third. An 87% pass completion rate while operating in the most congested, contested area of the pitch.

This wasn't just a good performance. This was domination disguised as competence.

For most of his career, Iwobi has carried a burden that had nothing to do with his own ability and everything to do with his DNA. When your uncle is Jay-Jay Okocha, the man who made grown defenders look like children chasing shadows, who could nutmeg you twice in the same dribble, who remains the standard by which Nigerian flair is measured, expectations become complicated.

The comparisons were inevitable and, ultimately, unfair. Iwobi was never going to be Okocha, not because he lacked talent but because he possessed a different kind of intelligence. Where Okocha was the trickster, the magician pulling rabbits from hats, Iwobi has evolved into something equally valuable but far less celebrated: the architect.

His transformation from inconsistent Arsenal winger to Premier League midfielder at Everton to indispensable playmaker at Fulham represents one of modern Nigerian football's most fascinating evolutions. 

It's a journey that required humility, accepting that his future wasn't on the wing and courage, reinventing himself in his mid-twenties when most players have already calcified into what they'll always be.

At this AFCON, playing in Eric Chelle's fluid system that demands technical security and tactical flexibility in equal measure, Iwobi has finally stepped fully into his own identity. He's not trying to be Okocha anymore. He doesn't need to be.

Here's what makes Iwobi so crucial to this Super Eagles project: he's the player who makes everyone else better without diminishing himself in the process.

Osimhen needs service in the channels and space to attack. Iwobi provides both, drawing defenders with his movement and delivering passes that arrive with perfect weight and timing. 

Lookman thrives when he can attack isolated defenders one-on-one. Iwobi creates those situations, manipulating defensive shapes with his positioning before the ball even arrives. 

Moses Simon and Samuel Chukwueze want to receive the ball in dangerous areas where one touch can spark chaos. Iwobi is the metronome that keeps the rhythm, ensuring the ball circulates quickly enough to prevent defensive organization.

In modern football, where tactical systems have become so sophisticated that individual brilliance often gets smothered before it can flourish, players like Iwobi are the difference between good teams and great ones. 

They don't need the ball at their feet to influence the game. Their movement, their understanding of space, their ability to process information and make decisions at the speed the game demands, these are the qualities that transform collections of talented individuals into cohesive attacking units.

Eric Chelle's "Total Football" approach, a term perhaps too grand for what is essentially organised chaos with structure, requires a player capable of operating as both destroyer and creator, someone who can win the ball back and immediately transition Nigeria from defence to attack. Iwobi has become that player, the oxygen that allows Nigeria's front line to breathe.

As Nigeria switch attention to the last eight, the usual questions will dominate: Can Osimhen stay fit? Will Lookman maintain this form? Is the defence vulnerable to pace?

But perhaps the most important question is one nobody's asking: What happens to the Super Eagles midfield if Iwobi gets injured or suspended?

The answer, based on what we've seen not just against Mozambique but throughout Nigeria's campaign, is uncomfortable. Without Iwobi's ability to control tempo, recycle possession, and create space, Nigeria's attack becomes predictable, talented but one-dimensional, reliant on individual moments rather than sustained pressure.

He's not the player who'll score the winner in the final. He probably won't even be the one delivering the assist. But he'll be the reason the winner gets scored, the architect of the patterns that create the space that leads to the chance that becomes the goal that sparks the celebration.

That's not the kind of contribution that breaks the internet or generates compilation videos set to Afrobeats. It's the kind that wins tournaments.

While the nation continues to dissect an 11-second moment of frustration between two elite attackers, a moment that will be forgotten long before the tournament ends, Alex Iwobi deserves his recognition now, not as an afterthought to someone else's drama.

He's not the loudest voice in the dressing room or the biggest name on the team sheet. He doesn't have the goal celebration that spawns a thousand TikToks or the social media presence that generates headlines. What he has is something more valuable: the respect of his teammates, the trust of his coach, and the technical quality to deliver performances that make everyone around him better.

In an era where football discourse often reduces players to their highlight reels and viral moments, Iwobi represents something increasingly rare: substance over style, consistency over chaos, intelligence over individual glory.

So yes, Osimhen and Lookman had a moment. Emotions ran high. Brothers argued. But the team won anyway.

But while everyone else was watching the drama, the real story was unfolding in midfield, orchestrated by a man who's spent his career being underestimated and has responded by becoming indispensable.

The Metronome keeps ticking. Nigeria keeps winning. And Alex Iwobi keeps proving that the most important players aren't always the ones making headlines, they're the ones making everything else possible.

It's time we noticed.