If the government can allocate $100,000 to each player and $50,000 to staff and management, then it is evident that Nigeria does possess the financial capacity to invest meaningfully in the development of women’s football.
By Tuka Letura
Bola Ahmed Tinubu, Nigeria’s President, announced a $100,000 reward for each member of the Super Falcons following their 2024 WAFCON victory—roughly ₦150 million per player. It is a significant reward for a team winning on the continent for the first time in a while. In addition to the cash prize, the players were also granted national honours as Officers of the Order of the Niger (OON), along with three-bedroom apartments. The gifts extended to 11 support staff and technical crew, who each received $50,000. Altogether, this amounts to over $3 million in cash alone, marking the most substantial recognition the Falcons have received in their 27-year dominance of women’s football in Africa.
The financial reward and accompanying honours given to the Super Falcons are both long overdue and richly deserved. However, they also raise important questions: How can the country balance morale-boosting gestures with the urgent need for sustainable investment in the sport’s long-term development? And to what extent does prioritising individual financial rewards truly serve the women’s game?
At the just‑concluded 2025 WAFCON, CAF’s total prize pool was reported at $3.475 million, up nearly 45 percent from the previous edition. The champions, Nigeria, earned $1 million; the runners-up, $500,000; third place, $300,000; with the remaining amounts distributed accordingly. For Nigeria specifically, that $1 million meant their share from CAF would be handled under a policy stipulating that a third of it (approximately $330,000) must be set aside for players and technical crew before any other disbursements.
In practice, Chairman Shehu Dikko of the National Sports Commission ordered that no WAFCON funds could be accessed by the NFF until players’ entitlements were paid in full. Beyond the CAF contribution, however, President Tinubu’s package far exceeded these figures. Each player’s $100,000 came from federal resources, representing more than triple CAF’s mandatory payout per player (around $12,500 if evenly divided among 24 players and technical staff).
Despite the country’s dominance on the continent, with ten WAFCON titles, the development structure remains broken. Age‑grade teams such as the U‑20 and U‑17 sides are chronically underfunded and almost unrecognisable. At grassroots level, many young girls train without proper pitches, qualified coaches, or even basic medical support. There have been multiple cases where players have been forced to drop out of the sport entirely because they could not fund proper recovery from injuries.
Even the senior team lacks a stable training ground. Just weeks before the tournament, the Super Falcons were being “hauled across the southwest” in search of venues — from Ikenne, the home of Remo Stars SC, to the MKO Abiola Stadium in Abeokuta. The reasons for this go beyond inadequate facilities, but they remain a significant part of the problem.
At the presidential reception for the WAFCON‑winning Super Falcons, captain Rasheedat Ajibade made a heartfelt appeal for stronger institutional backing:
“We want to become the best women’s football team in the world… But to achieve this, we humbly seek the continued and enhanced support of the Nigerian Football Federation, the Sports Ministry, and the Federal Government… We sincerely appreciate all that is currently being done, but we are asking for more, because we know the boundless potential of this team and of our nation. And together, with the right support and the right conditions, we can have the same playing field as our competitors.”
On another note, Michelle Alozie, who scored the dramatic late winner against South Africa in the semi‑finals to send Nigeria into the WAFCON final, once described her call‑up to the national team as both lucky and laughable in an interview. The Nigerian defender revealed that the Super Falcons were in the United States for the “She Believes Cup” but were on the verge of withdrawing due to visa issues and a shortage of players.
In a bid to avoid pulling out, head coach, Randy Waldrum, contacted several Nigerian‑American footballers based in the US, a list that included WAFCON 2024 final’s player of the match, Esther Okoronkwo. As fate would have it, Alozie, then with the Houston Dash, was in Houston at the time. She joined the team, impressed in her very first training session, and was selected to play in the next match. She has remained with the Super Falcons ever since.
That alone speaks volumes about how opaque the view of the women’s game is. A portion of that reward money could have gone into setting up a proper scouting and integration programme, especially for eligible Nigerians in the diaspora. With the right systems in place, talent could be assessed more strategically, continuity built across different positions, and new entrants integrated in a way that fits the team’s style and identity.
And then there is perhaps the most critical factor of all: Nigeria’s economic realities. The country continues to wrestle with inflation, currency devaluation, and deep structural challenges. Basic sectors such as education, health, and infrastructure remain underfunded.
Against that backdrop, spending the equivalent of ₦1.5 billion on post‑victory rewards for the players alone feels hard to justify. Some argue that even a fraction of that amount, if directed towards long‑term infrastructure, coaching development, talent academies, or player welfare, would have been a far more remarkable investment.
This is not to say that the Falcons should not have received a cash reward for their feat, but it does raise questions about the true intent, especially as it feels like a one‑off gesture. In truth, when young girls see women footballers being publicly rewarded with large sums of money, it does more than create excitement — it builds belief. It shows that success in sport is not only possible, but also something respected and celebrated.
In many places where girls are often steered away from football, this kind of recognition can shift mindsets. It tells them: this is a real path. It tells them they belong. And somewhere, in a small town or a crowded city, a young girl begins to imagine herself wearing the national colours, not just for fun, but as someone who can be recognised for excellence.
It also sends a message beyond Nigeria’s borders. For players in the diaspora who are eligible to represent more than one country, this kind of commitment matters. When they see Nigeria not just cheering from a distance but actively rewarding and investing in its players, the prospect becomes far more attractive.
The choice between countries is no longer just about heritage; it becomes about joining a system that respects and values your contribution. For a young player in London or Atlanta, that visibility can shape a major decision.
Most importantly, the Super Falcons earned this. Their comeback against Morocco was not just exciting — it was unforgettable. Coming from two goals down, on Moroccan soil, to reach the final was a display of strength, courage, and real character. It brought pride to Nigerians everywhere.
That is why the debate around who gets rewarded, and by how much, becomes so important. When footballers who deliver joy, unity, and national glory are rewarded at the same level or even below entertainment figures, it forces us to ask what we truly celebrate. In this case, the recognition is not just justified — it is necessary.
So, before it begins to seem as though the concern lies with the Super Falcons receiving significant financial rewards, it is important to clarify what the real issue is. If the government can allocate $100,000 to each player and $50,000 to staff and management, then it is evident that Nigeria does possess the financial capacity to invest meaningfully in the development of women’s football.
This includes establishing well‑equipped training camps in strategic locations, creating sustainable support structures for all age‑grade teams, and funding grassroots initiatives that identify and nurture young talent. Furthermore, it suggests that there is more than enough funding available to address player welfare — covering injury management, mental and physical health support, and career progression.
It also implies that when these players travel abroad to represent the nation, their logistics — ranging from accommodation to professional‑grade training and recovery support — can and should be adequately catered for. The conversation, therefore, is not about the reward itself, but about ensuring a comprehensive, well‑funded ecosystem that respects, prepares, and protects the athletes throughout their time representing the nation. It is only right.
Tuka Letura is an experienced sports writer with over six years of experience in the craft. He uses data and statistics to provide analysis and commentary. From regional to worldwide competitions, he has covered a wide range of sports-related events and topics. He is devoted to sharing his enthusiasm for sports with his audience and engaging them with interesting anecdotes and viewpoints.