It’s been a busy week in the burgeoning young life of Bukayo Saka. It’s February, and last night he played 71 minutes as a resurgent Arsenal defeated Wolverhampton Wanderers by a goal to nil, taking them to fifth place in the Premier League. Two nights earlier he attended the BRIT Awards alongside Ian Wright, and presented Dave with the award for Best Hip Hop/Rap/Grime Act. Tonight, at Stork Restaurant in Mayfair, he is accompanied by his older brother Yomi, who is also one of his closest friends, as well as Ebi Sampson and Idz from his management team. Judging by the menu on offer, a four-page cascade of pan-African delights, the evening is set to be a gastronomic pleasure.
As I hesitate over the options – Jamaican jerk boussin or Ivorian sea bass? Chicken suya or spinach egusi? – Saka orders with the same assurance he’s shown on the field all season. “When you go out to restaurants, you get your go-to,” he smiles, going for a plate of sliced steak. “When you go to KFC or you go to Nando’s, you get your go-to.” He hasn’t asked for a starter, which is bold, I think: he’s putting a lot of faith in the size of a single dish. I go for king prawns to start, and jerk chicken for the main, accompanied by a glass of white wine. Saka and his brother Yomi go for the same non-alcoholic drink: the Chapman, a colourful cocktail, part fruit, part syrup.
Just a few months ago, Saka’s immediate future seemed much less joyful. Following England’s defeat in the Euro 2020 final against Italy, he – as one of three Black footballers who failed to convert their penalties – was subjected to sustained racist abuse on social media. Saka was unsurprised by the backlash. Breaking his silence four days after the final, he remarked on Instagram: “I knew instantly the kind of hate that I was about to receive.” It was a grim finale to a tournament where for so long it looked as if England, whose team spirit had enchanted their country, would end their 55-year search for a major trophy. It also meant that Saka had unwittingly provided us with perhaps the two defining images of the tournament: the first, of him beaming atop an inflatable unicorn in the team’s swimming pool, and the second, where Southgate embraced and consoled him after his penalty was saved. In that Instagram post, which he ended with the defiant line “love always wins," he expressed a promise: “I will not let that moment or the negativity I have received this week break me.”
Much of Bukayo Saka’s appeal comes from this spirit. He plays football with an ease, a rare lightness of touch, taking to the field as if, each game, he is discovering its joys for the first time. In an era where football can be entrenched in untoward scandals, Saka’s lightness matters. It is a reminder of why so many of us fell in love with the sport.
Yet beneath Saka’s perma-smile and carefree demeanour is an emotional toughness. “Saka possesses a kind of inner strength that is so uncommon in a player of his age,” says Andrew Mangan, the man behind Arseblog, a fan-led website that provides the most comprehensive coverage of all things AFC. “From the moment he arrived on the first team scene, he looked at home, never flustered, never overawed. It’s more than maturity though. His talent, his technical quality, anyone can see those things when he plays – this is something else.”
For Arsenal, Saka’s talent arrived just in time. Until recently, the club with whom Saka signed when he was seven had struggled to adjust to the departure of Arsène Wenger in 2018. During the later stages of Wenger’s 22-year tenure, Arsenal had slipped behind their Premier League rivals, and now gazed up the table with envy at Liverpool, Manchester City, Chelsea, Manchester United and (most uncomfortably) local rivals Tottenham Hotspur. The club has long needed someone to revive their hopes on the field – a player who could be a symbol of progress. In Saka, they have that player.
Early reports of Saka’s ability seemed hysterical – was a teenager really capable of taking on the club’s famed number seven shirt? But for Arsenal legend Ian Wright, there was never any doubt. “He was 15,” Wright tells me, “and people were already saying Saka was way too advanced for the team he was playing with. I remember watching him at Hale End, and he went past three players so easily, and the ball came to him a couple of times and he just popped it off, one touch, and moved. He was just doing stuff in that game that a player of 25 years of age would do. I said, ‘He’s going all the way to the top – no danger.’”
At the age of 20, Saka is already one of the Premier League’s most beloved young superstars. Voted Arsenal’s player of the season aged just 19, the scorer of four goals in 14 games for England has already been shortlisted for the Golden Boy award, given to the best young footballer in Europe – he’s setting records for Arsenal at a speed not seen since the World Cup winner Cesc Fàbregas. When Saka excels, as is becoming a weekly occurrence, fans smile. When he struggles, like he did when his penalty was saved against Italy in last year’s European Championships
final, millions reach out in support.
But being a young talent shot to superstar status that quickly is bound to leave some bruises. “You know a player is quality when the opposition take every opportunity to stop him by fair means, but especially foul. This season he’s been fouled 52 times; the next most-fouled Arsenal player is on 27,” says Mangan. Saka has had no choice but to learn to take care of himself, adding an assertive side to his game. In 83 Premier League appearances, he has collected 11 yellow cards. “He gets little or no protection from referees, which is unusual for an English player,” observes Mangan. “Fouls are often waved away, play continues. But he gets back up, demands the ball and goes again. He has something at his core that is just very special – an innate ability to cope with all the mental and physical demands of top-level football.”
Another notable feature about Saka is his sense of gratitude, which is evident whenever he mentions the people who have helped him on his journey. He regards Wright with great affection. “Ian Wright knows everyone, you know!” exclaims Saka. “He’s such a good guy, man. I swear. He has a good heart. You don’t find people like that a lot.” He speaks often about being thankful for all that he has been given, and his Instagram account bears the proud moniker “God’s Son”. How important is his faith to him and his family? “Very important,” he says at once, with Yomi noting
that they were regular attendees of their Pentecostal church.
“When we were growing up we were taught by our parents to have faith in God,” says Saka, “and when you’re younger you don’t fully understand. But throughout life, you keep exercising your faith, so when you get into different challenges, you decide, ‘this time I’m going to trust God’, and
God comes through for you. That’s how it kept building and building for me, so I can be confident and go into places knowing that God’s got me. That’s why a lot of times I can be fearless.” I’m reminded of an interview he gave during Euro 2020, when England were about to face one of their biggest historical rivals in the second round. Saka was asked, “Do you fear Germany?” As he answers, his gaze is relaxed. “Right now, I’m not scared of anyone, really.”
I wonder if that is Saka’s game face; the one which, beneath all the smiles, is the true and ruthless face of the world-class athlete. “I don’t really have a game face and keep it, you know? I have a game face when it’s time to think, to analyse, or when it’s actually time to play. Apart from that, I try not to have one. I’d rather be free.” Some actors, in preparation for a role, will spend days in character, but Saka seems the type to stroll onto set and just deliver his lines. “I don’t like to overthink. If you overthink about positive situations, then negative situations can start to
creep into your mind, then you get nervous and stuff like that. That’s why I have faith in God and believe in myself.”
I ask Saka a question that’s been bugging me for some time: how do you maintain your perfect high-top fade? He laughs. “To be honest, it’s more my barber’s job,” Saka says. “He shapes it up, gives me a good trim. All I have to do is wash it, condition it.” But anyone who has tried to maintain a high-top fade knows that Black hair dries fast, and there are few oils that trap the moisture in. “Oh,” he says, “I put cream on it twice a day.” But which cream – coconut, or something else? “A special product,” smiles Saka. Will he reveal which? “Nah,” he says, laughing. “It’s my secret ingredient.”
Starters arrive, as does Idz’s drink – a fruity cocktail that Saka eyes with nostalgia. “That tastes like my childhood,” says Saka. As he recalls the Nigerian food and drink of his early youth, I recommend Ebe Ano, an excellent restaurant that Saka should visit if he is ever in Berlin. In turn, he speaks fondly of Germany, since it’s where he scored his first Arsenal goal in a three-nil win over Eintracht Frankfurt. The conversation turns to south London and the subject of UK rap. As we all talk, Saka sits, listening intently – something Wright refers to as his greatest quality – while politely waiting for a pause in conversation to clarify a detail.
“Professor Green?” he asks. “He’s the one that made that banger, it was on the radio and that.” Yes, I say, Green was a battle rapper, in the early days, then he started doing pop music.
“Wretch 32 is the best rapper ever from this country,” says Yomi. How about Dave?
“No,” says Yomi. Kano? “Nah,” says Yomi. “Kano’s the guy in Top Boy?” asks Saka.
Everyone at the table broadly agrees that the best musician among UK rappers, in terms of sound, tone and tempo, is J Hus. Mains quickly follow, and though my jerk chicken looks delicious, I watch Saka’s steak arrive with a quiet envy: he has made the superior choice, draping thick ribbons of sizzling meat across his plate. The real business of the evening has begun: a vigorous discussion on the future of Afrobeats. The best artist of them all is Wizkid, insists Yomi, and there are no arguments there. As if in approval, the DJ begins to play a stream of Afrobeats hits from her booth on the floor above. Between mouthfuls, all the talk is about music. Two of Saka’s favourite artists are Central Cee and Ed Sheeran – the latter of which comes as news to Yomi. “You don’t bang Ed Sheeran,” says Yomi, frowning at his brother.
“Bro, I showed you, he’s in my top five artists on Spotify Wrapped!” says
Saka.
“I don’t believe you,” says Yomi. “When?”
“Bruv, I’m not going to play Ed Sheeran when you’re in the car!” says Saka. “When I’m in the car with my girl, we listen to Ed Sheeran!”
Sheeran comes up again when talk turns to songs we’d expect to hear at a
wedding.
“Giggs,” says Yomi at once. “‘Talkin’ the Hardest’.”
“Not Giggs at a wedding!” laughs Saka. “You’re not in a rave, bro!”
Someone actually got D Double E to play at their wedding, I say.
“D Double!” laughs Saka, incredulous at the thought of the veteran Newham rapper performing a grime set for the oldies. “Oh my gosh! That one is not [for a] wedding, oh. I’m calling Ed Sheeran – I’ll pay him whatever!”
Saka was born in Ealing to Nigerian parents, the second of two sons. He grew up in Greenford, a quiet and unassuming suburb in west London, and was regarded as a model student at his local high school, gathering a cluster of high grades before concentrating solely on his career in football. He speaks fondly of his time in his hometown, not least of a great Chinese food spot next to the station – the much-loved Hung Hing, which has sadly since closed. Greenford was the first stop on his road to fame, but it was by no means a charmed path.
“I love my sleep,” he begins, “so I would leave it till the last minute [to get out of bed]. Yomi, what time did school start? 8:30am?”
“Nine o’clock.”
“So I’d wake up at eight o’clock. School was walking distance, but because I woke up so late I would make my mum drop us. School at nine, go through school, school finishes at three o’clock, then my dad’s waiting outside, so I get in the car, and we go straight to training. I’d eat my food
in the car. Training was in Walthamstow: Hale End Road. And at that time there was so much traffic to get there, that’s why I left straight from school.”
You drove all the way along the North Circular?
“It is horrible! I used to fall asleep. My dad used to go through all the
traffic and I’d wake up and be there.”
Four days a week, up at 8am, home by 11pm, for years.
“It’s a lot. That’s why I always thank my dad whenever I do interviews,” he says. He is thankful too, because he knows how few players make it to the professional game, let alone into the first team of their childhood dreams. “Our coach would always say – even when we were young – he would look at the group and say, ‘Only one or two of you is going to make it,’” he recalls. “We would all look at each other because we were all so good, we were unbeaten, and everyone was baffled, like, who’s it going to be?”
Given the nature of the game, it’s no surprise that footballers talk about each other all the time. Which footballer, I ask, has blown you away with their quality?
“Sergio Busquets,” he says immediately. Saka played against the legendary Barcelona and Spain midfielder in a pre-season friendly in August 2019. “The way he just so elegantly turned me! I came at him to press him, I tried to fake this side then go to the other, and the way he just embarrassed me: I was just like, yeah, this guy is elite,” says Saka, still in awe. “The way he just took me out of the play, I said, ‘Respect.’ [Busquets] is three steps ahead of everyone,” adds Saka, “and that’s what makes you a top footballer. That’s what I realised that day.”
Saka’s humility – that for all his talent, he is still keen to learn, to be better – is why so many football fans care deeply for him. “Saka is the ray of light that’s going to guide us to the light at the end of the tunnel throughout this difficult period,” says Wretch 32, himself an Arsenal supporter. “He’s the young heart and soul of the team... With all the ups and downs he’s faced he’s handled everything like a true professional, a true gentleman, a true G, and someone way beyond his years. He should be recognised for that, as well as for his attitude, and his talent and his performance off-pitch is equally as impressive. I’m looking forward to watching him grow and go from strength to strength.”
Saka embodies the best of what a player can be – confident without being arrogant, wide-eyed in wonder at the glorious world in which he has found himself. At no point does Saka look like he is taking anything for granted. Even his favoured goal celebration, an extravagant knee-slide, seems fresh and unrehearsed. He has a deep connection with kids and they often write to him with words of encouragement or even invitations to play football in the local park and go for ice cream.
We are nearing the end of our meal, too full to consider dessert but still with an appetite to talk football. Of all the great goals ever scored, I ask him which he would like to have scored.
“Because of the moment, I think I would say Leo Messi’s goal in the Copa del Rey final against Athletic Club. The one where he dribbled everyone. Now that I play, I can see how hard it is to score that goal. People are trying to kick him, to bring him down in the process, and he just keeps
going, and he still scored in the final, as well. I was just like, wow. When he says he’s going past you, you’re not stopping him!”
“He’s gone!” exclaims Yomi, with a shrug.
“Just like that,” agrees Saka.
We prepare to make our way out into the evening, taxis arriving to take us our separate ways; but I have one final question, about Bukayo, his most profound of Yoruba names.
“My grandma gave it to me because of its meaning,” he says, particularly happy to be asked. “It means ‘God has added joy to my life.’ She wanted me to add joy to the family, so she named me that...Every time she called me, that’s probably what I meant to her.”
A few weeks after we speak, Saka will bring that same joy to his growing family of fans, slipping past defenders at the edge of Watford’s penalty area before thrashing the ball high and hard beyond the dive of the opposing goalkeeper. As he runs over towards the adoring crowd, there is no knee-slide this time, but that familiar grin crosses his face: his unique blend of glee and disbelief, a boy wonder filled with wonder at the thrilling place he has just taken us. We can only imagine where he will take us next.
