Oh, c'mon.

The phrase is a plea to the unreasonable. It's a prompt to confess. To end the charade, and come clean.

Look at all this evidence, and you're still trying to claim innocence?

However, it's a phrase that also depends on assumption. It assumes that the person uttering the words has the correct perspective, that they know what's really going on.

Unfortunately, the evidence it emphasizes is often circumstantial, and the confession for which it begs is necessary for proof.

It's rare to see a goalkeeper leap up to grab a cross in his box, and hurl it toward his own net. Yet, it appeared as though that was exactly what Nigerian goalkeeper Austin Ejide did after a corner kick was booted into his box during Wednesday's friendly against Scotland at Craven Cottage.

Even if the goal didn't count, and the Scottish forward was called for a foul, our response is still, "Oh, c'mon."

When we couple our view of Ejide's actions with reports of the National Crime Agency investigating attempts to fix this match, we inevitably assume causation. Our assumptions of predetermined outcomes only increase when we learn that after this questionable play, Nigerian defender Azubuike Egwuekwe scored an own goal. That's just how we think.

Something is supposed to be fishy, and something appears fishy, so it must be fishy.

Adding to our suspicions are Nigerian coach Stephen Keshi's post-match dismissal of any knowledge of match-fixing, not just this particular match, but the practice in general.

We're not gamblers, we are football players. I don't even know where that is coming from, we don't know what happened, match-fixing or no match-fixing. This is the first time I've been a coach or been a player and the first time I'm hearing this, match-fixing.

How does one have anything to do with soccer — even the most fleeting of associations — without knowing what match-fixing is?

Nigeria isn't the only place on earth that hasn't heard of bribery relating to the outcomes of soccer matches. Far from it.

The country's recent history with match-fixing is well documented. Last summer, four Nigerian clubs and several players received suspensions and bans for their participation in two Nigerian promotion play-off games in which the victors won by scores of 79-0 and 67-0.

In April, convicted Singaporean match fixer, Wilson Raj Perumal, alleged he assisted Nigeria's qualifying efforts for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa by influencing the result of the Mozambique versus Tunisia qualifier. In return, Perumal claimed he was allowed to organize three warm-up matches, and receive a portion of the money FIFA provided for hosting a training camp during the tournament.

In this light, Keshi's protests sound an awful lot like: "It couldn't have been me who stole the cookies from the cookie jar. I didn't even know there was a cookie jar, let alone cookies inside of it." Then, you discover the denier is the offspring of cookie magnates who also own a cookie jar manufacturing company.

Despite these incidents creating a giant sum of suspicion, they still don't add up to something that will convict. Any closing argument condemning Nigerian players for throwing the match will still have to rely on the "Oh, c'mon" appeal.

However, all of this circumstantial evidence does justify an investigation, and this should be the goal of those insisting Ejide's star turn in this video is absolute proof of wrongdoing. Instead of pointless complaints that will lead to the entire business of this match being forgotten by the time Nigeria plays its first World Cup game, engage in a call to action. Pressure FIFA to look into this.

After all, it's what they promised to do at the beginning of the year.

FIFA security chief Ralf Mutschke told a German newspaper in January that his organization was prepared to combat match-fixing at the World Cup.

We will have security officers in all 12 World Cup stadiums. We will monitor all matches on the betting market, we will be in contact with all bookmakers, screen the social networks and the relevant boards for hints. We will analyze individual plays during games.

This threat isn't catching FIFA off guard. They're aware and prepared.

We must clearly assume that organized crime will try and fix matches at the World Cup. At this event, bets will be placed at a great rate and a large profit will be made.

And yet, even as local police begin an investigation into Wednesday's friendly in London, there's been no comment from FIFA.

It's easy to mistake the video of Ejide throwing the ball toward his goal — and it must be mentioned that this is only one angle of the incident — as something humorous. It's an odd sight that appears to confirm our suspicions of match-fixing taking place in the most blatantly obvious manner imaginable.

However, if it inspires any laughter, it should be a nervous chortle. This scene is one that has the potential to call the integrity of international football into question. With the exception of professional wrestling, the vicarious relationship that fans develop with spectator sports depends on the appeal of an undecided outcome.

We're witnessing a competition play out live in front of us, and the appeal of unknown results — and the emotions it produces as a byproduct — is what creates allegiances and loyalties to a side. The feelings that shackle us to sports in a way that we're not tied to movies, music or art are the result of uncontrollable and unknown outcomes.

Yes, Spain may have a more talented squad than Australia, but anything can happen. The moment anything can't happen in sports is the moment it loses its appeal, and our vicarious relationship evaporates

That's it. Done.

That's what's at stake in the video of a goalkeeper throwing the ball in his own net. That's what — if he is indeed guilty of match-fixing — Ejide is attempting to steal from the fans whose collective support make his career possible.

Is FIFA so keenly aware of this as to avoid mentioning these incidents and opening up their own investigation, or not aware at all? Either way, their lack of action in dealing with the issue is unacceptable.

Oh, c'mon.