The knockout rounds of the World Cup are upon us and Carlos Queiroz and his Iran team are long gone, having left their five-star hotel by the Mall of Qatar on November 30 after their final group-stage match against the United States.
An Iranian woman, who can’t attend football matches in her own country yet travelled to watch the team in Qatar, says she feels “like old news now”.
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The World Cup circus has moved on. The T-shirts are largely absent from matches and fan zones and the intensity and division of Iran’s three matches have been replaced by replica Argentina shirts with Messi on the back.
FIFA president Gianni Infantino’s plea to bypass the “moral lessons” and “let football take centre stage” has not been completely heeded, but former Arsenal manager Arsene Wenger still felt able to say that teams who carried out “political demonstrations” in the group stage were more likely to be eliminated.
“They are just putting on a show and they don’t want anyone interfering with that,” says the woman, shrugging her shoulders. “But you can’t bring football to the Middle East and then not talk about politics.
“Silence is not OK but it’s our culture. You should be silent. But they can’t crush us.”
Her words are delivered with quiet resolve. Iran is not going to protect her and she feels the organisers of this World Cup — at FIFA and in Qatar — are not on her side, either. They have shown “no alliance”, as she puts it. “Things were difficult for us in Russia (at the 2018 World Cup) but it was worse here. Four years and no progress,” she adds.
She has since left Qatar but cannot return to Iran — certainly not now and who knows when. She does not know whose cameras might have caught her at matches in Doha and it is too dangerous to go back to a country where “blameless people” are being killed for protesting against a theocratic regime they despise.
“I really applaud those who tried to come (to the World Cup),” says the woman, whose identity we have protected for her personal security. “Most of them are dual nationals and there’s an embassy here in Qatar. But where can they (the others) go now?
“It’s an unbelievable situation inside Iran. The amount of people — the amount of young people — they are killing. Kids, sometimes as young as 12 or 16, are being blinded by small bullets shot straight at their eyes. What worse can happen?
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“Girls and boys who are getting shot. You feel like they were really happy in their own lives and then… they killed the life of blameless people who wanted to enjoy that life.”
This is the second time we have met in Doha. The first was in a shopping mall before the tournament began. Her friends were having their nails done — two women travelling on their own whom she met four years ago in Russia — and she was full of energy; intrigued by what the World Cup in Qatar would be like, even if she knew she would likely feel threatened and intimidated as an Iranian woman, and passionate about bringing greater awareness of what is happening in Iran.
The second time we speak over Zoom and she looks exhausted. She describes the intense stress of going to football matches — something for which she has long campaigned to be able to do at home — and how she has felt desperately isolated.
Iran’s 6-2 defeat by England was tense, the win against Wales was worse and Iran’s last game, a 1-0 defeat by the US, was “overwhelming”.
“I couldn’t stop crying,” she says. “You want to be strong but I couldn’t help it. Every match was more difficult.”
She describes the “puppets” she saw in the stadium; those voicing their support for Iran’s regime deliberately loudly with southern Iranian accents. Were they from Iran at all? Or from Bahrain or Dubai, just across the water?
She recalls how small groups trying to chant in recognition of Mahsa Amini after 22 minutes, the 22-year-old woman who was killed after being picked up by Iran’s ‘morality police’ for not wearing her hijab correctly, were drowned out. Seeing women wearing “too many open clothes” and yet carrying flags of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Security staff at the gates apparently knowing exactly what to look for if fans tried to smuggle in T-shirts by wearing plain clothes over the top. The honking of horns sounded like shots going off.
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Yet, despite all of this, she is still understanding of the players’ position. Ahead of the tournament, they were accused of not showing enough public support for protestors in Iran and manager Queiroz repeatedly and strongly tried to keep the focus on football, to “create entertainment and during 90 minutes to make the people happy”.
“The first match we were really angry (with the players),” she says. “Then it was a courageous move to not sing the anthem. The second match, some sang and some didn’t. I can understand why. There were lots of agents around them. Not everyone can handle this kind of pressure.
“There was so much hate because they didn’t show that much support but… these players, they are not our enemies. We are all victims. I’m really sorry they didn’t show more support but each person chooses their own life. I’m not in their shoes and I don’t know how they can survive, either.”
The matter-of-fact way in which she delivers such profound sentiments is heartbreaking. As is having to end the call, not knowing what will happen to her now.
So we sign off by doing what people do in those circumstances — we talk about football.
She describes watching Australia in Doha and she smiles. “It was people enjoying going to the stadium,” she says. Imagine that.
(Top picture: Fans hold up letters to spell the name “Mahsa Amini”. Photo: Christian Charisius/picture alliance via Getty Images)
