Egypt’s World Cup run is a much-needed diversion.
By 4 p.m. on Aug. 14, Cairo was burning. Egypt’s military-led provisional government declared a national state of emergency as violence raged throughout the country. Weeks of tension flared as the army bulldozed the barricades and emptied the squares and streets where supporters of deposed president Mohamed Morsi had dug in to protest his removal from power. Pitched battles were being waged in the streets. Automatic-weapon fire rattled across the city. The first of what would be hundreds lay dead.
At 4:30 p.m., 430 km to the south in El Gouna, an idyllic Red Sea resort town, Egypt’s national soccer team kicked off a friendly against Uganda. The Pharaohs glided to an easy win on the tidy new stadium’s lush grass, each of El Gouna Stadium’s 12,000 empty seats staring back at them. No fans, no TV coverage, no hint of the chaos gripping the country; football in isolation.
This is Egypt: a divided country, an economically broken country, a country with few immediate prospects for relief. This is Egypt’s national soccer team, a rare national institution still held above the political fray, in the midst of a thus-far successful World Cup qualification run. While the country implodes, the team is thriving.
They’ve done so under Bob Bradley. With a pedigree from his tenure as U.S. national team manager that includes a Gold Cup title and reaching the second round of the 2010 World Cup, Bradley was named Egypt’s head coach in September 2011. Landing in Cairo in the middle of a revolution, the then-53-year-old took the job knowing it would be “an adventure” but also with the iron determination to lead Egypt to its first World Cup since 1990.
Through that dry spell, the Pharaohs saw the rise and fall of a Golden Age, a uniquely talented generation that claimed three Africa Cups of Nations in a row from 2006 to 2010. But for all their skill, the World Cup eluded them. Ironically, it’s as that generation begins to give way to a younger crop of players that the team finally appears ready to return to the world stage. The experience of Mohamed Aboutrika and defender Wael Gomaa, both from Cairo-based Al Ahly, is energized by the youthful talents of midfielder Mohamed El-Nenny and striker Mohamed Salah (the latter tied for top scorer in African qualifying), both Swiss Super League champions last season with FC Basel. The balance is working, and Egypt has an impressive 17-5-7 record under Bradley.
The World Cup, though, remains the goal, the dream that unites a nation being torn apart. “This gives us a chance to breathe,” says Adam Moustafa, a Toronto-based Egyptian soccer commentator. “Put all these troubles aside, play your 90 minutes on the field, everyone in the nation is around their television sets. Everyone wants to see Egypt qualify for the World Cup. With all the struggles piling up on the country, this is definitely the rose among all these thorns.”
Egypt has a long history of mixing football and politics. During Hosni Mubarak’s 30-year presidency, ultra groups—the organized, hard-core fans—blended political messages with their match-day chants. And it was those fans who struck the sparks that ignited the revolution to oust Mubarak; ultras from Cairo’s two biggest clubs, Al Ahly and Zamalek, drove the protests in Tahrir Square. “When the revolution began, these guys were the ones on their Facebook pages, on Twitter, they were the ones organizing the protests,” Moustafa says. “You’d see them hand-in-hand, clapping and shouting slogans, one person is leading and everyone follows on. It’s like their strategy has been nurtured in the stadiums and they brought it to a much broader audience.” The ultras had experience antagonizing police, were well-organized and had the youthful energy to break a regime.
They also made themselves targets. At Port Said, a city of 600,000 that caps the north end of the Suez Canal, the regime struck back. On Feb. 1, 2012, as the final whistle blew at an Egyptian Premier League match between Al Ahly and hometown Al Masry, the crowd spilled onto the pitch. Football violence isn’t routine in Egypt, but this was clearly something else, something darker. Al Ahly supporters were being swarmed, beaten, stabbed. Killed. As the stampede flowed to the end of the field, players and supporters barricaded themselves in a dressing room. The police, according to reports, simply stood by. In the end, 74 fans lay dead and more than 1,000 were injured. Rumours spread that security forces allowed the massacre, even planned it, as revenge against Al Ahly’s ultras.
Port Said became a flashpoint in Egypt’s ongoing revolution, inflaming anti-establishment anger and sending tens of thousands into the streets—including Bob Bradley. Bradley was ever-present in the protests, the hawkish New Jerseyan with the shaved head and glass-cutting eyes conspicuous amongst a sea of mournful Egyptians. The risk he took was significant, marching in the angry crowds with his wife, sometimes his daughters. He won respect for visiting with the families of the victims, offering support and refusing to mince words, calling Port Said a “massacre.” “For him to come and show this kind of support was immense,” says Mustafa. “It’s great for Egyptians to see someone else caring about their problems.”
Port Said left Bradley with problems of his own. The national team moved home games abroad, to Dubai and Sudan, and several high-profile players retired from the sport—including Aboutrika, who had a man die in his arms on the floor of the dressing room in Port Said. The Egyptian Premier League season was cancelled halfway through, putting the majority of Bradley’s players out of club action.
But the Pharaohs pushed on, with 10 wins and two draws in 12 matches in the three months after the tragedy. Aboutrika returned to the team, ultimately inspired by Port Said rather than broken by it. In June 2012, amidst the country’s first post-Mubarak elections, the team opened World Cup qualifying against Mozambique in Alexandria. With Port Said still fresh, the match was played behind closed doors, the 86,000-seat Borg El Arab Stadium eerily empty.
Though the fans weren’t there, the nation was watching. “We need to look into those stands and see all 85 million Egyptians,” Bradley told his players before the game, “because if they had the chance, they’d be here.”
Egypt won 2–0, and have won every group match since, compiling a perfect 5-0-0 record in World Cup qualifying. The next step is a small one; the match against Guinea on Sept. 10 is the last of a group stage Egypt has already won. But it still matters: The top five teams in the final round are seeded by FIFA ranking against the bottom five. It’s the difference between having passage to Brazil staked on a two-legged series against the likes of powerhouse Ivory Coast, or pushovers Ethiopia. At the moment, the Pharaohs are on the bubble, possibly in sixth depending on the outcome of September’s matches across the continent. To give themselves the best shot, they need to win—against Guinea, and in friendlies like the one against Uganda and a proposed September match against South Korea.
Meanwhile, as Egypt erupts in violence once more, domestic football suffers in tandem. The league has again been cancelled, just weeks from the championship, and next year’s season is in doubt.
But the national team remains. A rose among the thorns, offering a bloom of hope to a nation that desperately needs it.