Chuba Akpom: The Striker Sold Down the River Bosphorus and Other Tales of Modern Football’s Transfer Circus
The Rise and Mildly Inconvenient Fall of Chuba Akpom, or How a Striker’s Goal Glut Became Collateral Damage in Football’s Endless Transfer Carousel
By Our Man in the Departure Lounge
ISTANBUL—Somewhere between the kebab smoke and the Bosphorus haze, Chuba Akpom has discovered that fame, like Turkish tea, cools quickly once the cup is empty. Six months ago the London-born striker was banging in goals for Ajax with the nonchalance of a man ordering takeaway. Today he is, depending on which agent you bribe for breakfast, either “re-evaluating his options” or “in advanced talks” with clubs so obscure their own ultras have to Google them.
For the uninitiated, Akpom is the classic post-globalisation footballer: Nigerian name, English passport, Greek Super League medal, Dutch scoring charts conquered, now possibly en route to the Saudi Pro League where the petrodollars are fresher than the grass. In another century he might have spent a decade at one club, grown a sentimental moustache and become a pub quiz question. Instead he is 28 and already a veteran of nine senior sides, a human loyalty card nobody seems keen to stamp twice.
The international significance? Look around. From Buenos Aires cafés to Lagos viewing centres, fans now recognise the pattern: a hot streak in Europe triggers a Middle Eastern shopping spree, which in turn frees up a squad place in Amsterdam, which is immediately filled by a South Korean wonderkid who will himself be sold to London after eighteen months of tasteful TikTok highlights. Akpom is not so much a player as a node in football’s vast money-laundering network—sorry, “talent pipeline”—where human beings are reduced to barcodes with hamstrings.
Ajax, bless their wooden clogs, insist his exit is purely “sporting.” Translated from corporate Dutch, that means they can flip him for pure profit and buy two teenagers whose combined age still doesn’t qualify for a rental car. The club’s accountants have already booked the capital gain; the accountants’ accountants are checking if UEFA’s new squad-cost ratio will swallow it without indigestion. Meanwhile Ajax fans—those quaint romantics who still think sport is about glory—wonder why their team sheet now changes faster than the breakfast buffet at Schiphol.
Akpom himself remains diplomatic, which is wise when your next pay cheque could arrive in dirhams, rubles, or crypto named after a cartoon dog. Sources close to the player (his barber, mainly) say he dreams of the Premier League but is “open to projects with ambition.” That phrase—“open to projects with ambition”—is modern football’s equivalent of “looking for a discreet relationship” on dating apps: everyone knows what it means, nobody admits it aloud.
The broader tragedy, if we can use such a haughty word for a millionaire athlete, is that Akpom’s story is no longer exceptional. It is the template. Train in England, bloom in Belgium, peak in the Netherlands, cash out in the Gulf, retire with a bespoke emoji. Somewhere in that itinerary the actual sport—the muddy Saturday-afternoon kind your grandfather raved about—gets lost like luggage on a connecting flight.
And yet, and yet. Watch the clips: Akpom ghosting past defenders like they owe him money, finishing with the casual cruelty of a cat toying with a pensioner’s knitting. For thirty seconds at a time you remember why any of this matters. Then the transfer ticker scrolls across the screen and the spell breaks. Another deal, another destination, another set of fans googling how to pronounce his surname.
So here’s to Chuba Akpom: a man whose career arc perfectly mirrors late capitalism—short contracts, long flights, maximum liquidity. May his goals be plentiful and his Wi-Fi strong, wherever the spreadsheets send him next. And should he one day lift a trophy in a stadium whose name changes every fiscal quarter, let’s hope he spares a thought for the romantics among us, still foolish enough to believe the game is anything more than a glorified spreadsheet with chanting.
