TheNewspad
Football in Nigeria is adored, celebrated, and followed with a near-religious passion. Stadium chants, viewing centres, and even newspaper stands arguments testify to its hold on the national psyche. Yet, for all the love, the business side tells a very different story, TheNewspad investigation revealed.
Sponsorship deals for Nigerian clubs and players are rare, almost non-existent, when compared to the endorsement-rich landscapes enjoyed by their counterparts abroad. Outside of Taiwo Awoniyi’s Dettol ambassadorship and William Troost-Ekong’s collaboration with Puma, there is little to point to. This vacuum is so obvious that football commentator Edafe Matthew Elegbete voiced the frustration bluntly on his podcast: “Yes, it is by billboard… Why are brands not associating themselves with you people (Nigerian players)?” It is a question that cuts straight to the heart of the problem.
The reasons stretch far beyond individual talent. At the core lies a systemic failure in the way football is managed and perceived in Nigeria.
Sports administration is riddled with bureaucracy and politics, operating less like a professional enterprise and more like an appendage of government’s youth empowerment programmes.
Corporate brands want to work with organisations that honour contracts, deliver measurable returns, and maintain professional standards.
Nigerian sports institutions have too often failed in these basics, from delayed player payments to mishandling high-profile sponsorships.
The much-publicised collapse of a lucrative kit deal from the Amaju Pinnick’s NFF era where promised usage was ignored in favour of unapproved alternatives sent a clear warning to potential partners: the environment is unpredictable and, in some cases, commercially toxic.
Beyond poor governance, there is a deeply ingrained cultural perception of sports in Nigeria as a social good rather than an economic driver.
Football clubs, even at the top tier, rarely position themselves as businesses capable of generating profit for partners. They lack consistent match broadcasting, standardised ticketing, merchandising strategies, and fan-engagement initiatives that turn followers into paying customers. Without those commercial touchpoints, brands see little reason to invest.
When Troost-Ekong’s charity match with Puma made waves through streaming and engagement, it stood out precisely because it was an exception.
In an industry where such initiatives are rare, one player’s creative approach only points out the inactivity of the rest.
Yet another layer to the sponsorship drought lies with the players themselves. We live in a digital age where image and storytelling are as valuable as performance, too many Nigerian footballers fail to cultivate their personal brands.
They often leave their public profiles in the hands of chance, limiting themselves to matchday exposure.
An interesting comparison is that with musicians which is instructive. Nigeria’s pop stars not only dominate billboards. They consciously curate their image through social media, public appearances, endorsements, and personal projects.
Footballers, on the other hand, frequently underplay their public persona, rarely engaging professional publicists or marketing teams to amplify their visibility.
The result is a generation of big name players who are household names to fans, but virtually invisible to corporate marketing departments.
The impact is cyclical: poor branding leads to low public recognition, which makes it harder to secure endorsements, which in turn limits the funds available for self-promotion.
With the domestic league’s weak media presence, even outstanding performances can go unnoticed outside football circles.
A player’s career might span more than a decade, but without deliberate branding efforts, their marketability fades quickly especially when competing against globally visible entertainers.
To break this cycle, sports governance must be reformed with transparency and commercial viability at its core. Sport Commissions, federations, and leagues need to operate with the rigour of corporate entities; clear budgets, enforceable contracts, and performance-linked funding.
Partnerships should be treated as mutually beneficial business arrangements, not one-off acts of goodwill. If administrators cannot deliver professional value to sponsors, no amount of player talent will bridge the trust gap.
At the same time, players themselves must take responsibility for their market presence. Investing in personal branding through PR teams, merchandise, community initiatives, and a deliberate media strategy can make them standout beyond the pitch.
Nigeria’s musicians have shown that with the right mix of visibility and talent, brands will line up for partnerships. Footballers can replicate that formula, bringing it to the authenticity of sport.
The commercialisation of football must start from the grassroots. Community tournaments, youth leagues, and charity matches, streamed online and tied to social causes offer both visibility and brand engagement.
If more players and clubs can create these moments, they give sponsors a platform with built-in audiences and goodwill.
The industry must embrace the idea that football is not just entertainment or youth empowerment, but a serious business with measurable returns.
For now, the question remans over the game in Nigeria: why aren’t players on billboards? The answer lies in governance that treats sport as politics, clubs that shy away from commercial thinking, and players who fail to see themselves as brands.
Change will require all three fronts to shift at once. Only then will Nigeria’s footballers take their place alongside the country’s music and entertainment stars, not just in stadium chants, but on the nation’s tallest billboards.
