I find myself in a constant state of paradox with my thoughts, feelings and actions about everything that has been going on for the last 10 weeks.
This football thing has only made things worse….
I feel my brain constantly in battle with my heart and then there is my mouth and sub-conscious that don’t seem to get along either.
Before the tournament started I promised myself I won’t watch it at all. Why should I be watching a football tournament when my countrymen and women are being bashed, shot, kidnapped, raped and murdered?
As the build up to the start of the tournament was ramping up though I just knew I couldn’t resist. Afterall, I had been watching the last 10 tournaments and most of them didn’t even have Iran in them so it was possible to watch the world cup and not get caught up in the emotional turmoil of supporting TM, or so I thought. All I had to do was just boycott watching the Iran games…
Then, as the opening ceremony neared and football articles became more and more prominent in my thrice daily “Iran protests news” google searches, I became more and more intrigued with how the players were going to react to what’s going on at home on the world stage.
Got my son to help me open an instagram account so I can follow Ali Karimi and Ali Daei among a host of others. Figured if Ali Daei is now openly supporting the protests (I had always figured Daei as a khayemaal of the regime in his playing days), there’s bound to be others, and sure enough there was….
I felt vindicated in my decision to boycott TM when the dumb cunt players went and met with Raisi and started bowing to them. Definitely not watching these pricks now!
world cup roars around and with all the murmurs and whispers about whether the players were going to show a united front to “represent the people” or not, whether the English players were going to make a gesture for George Floyd/LGBT rights or Iranian people, I felt compelled to watch the pre game rituals.
The players not singing the anthem was a powerful statement. GOOD! Its the least those mofo’s can do! Too little, too late though, I thought at first. Switched the TV straight off….
Felt like it was for an eternity, but when I switched it back on, the game clock hadn’t even registered one full minute. “I’ll cheer on the English”, I said to myself. When Beiranvand got injured, I was not sad. I wasn’t celebrating, but definitely not sad. Part of me thought he deserved it after being the “bower in chief” at the government function the week earlier.
Then, the English goals flooded in. Not a care in the world. I may as well had been watching Suriname v Honduras.
Taremi pulled one back…. He didn’t celebrate, neither did I. But I knew this was a fucked up situation and I could no longer convince myself that I could boycott the games. I knew I couldn’t cheer for the team but I can’t cheer against them either. I said it was fucked up, didn’t I?
Fast forward to game 2. Players softly mouth the words to the IR anthem. I was incensed! “Tof be sharafeshoon”.
Game started and I felt another heavy defeat would have the exact same feeling as a victory. NUMBNESS, hollowness, emptiness!
All through the game I sat like a stunned mullet! Unable to FEEL anything!
When Cheshmi scored, I let out a loud “fuuuuuuuucken goooaaal” but it wasn’t followed by any outpouring of emotion the same way as I had celebrated similar goals before. Like Iran’s injury time winner against Lebanon in the qualifiers at 3:30 in the morning thank you very much.
I immediately felt guilty for even that half hearted, seemingly “involuntary reaction”. Second goal garnered no such reaction. Back to being a zombie fixated to the TV screen emotionless again.
at the conclusion of the match I simply walked out of the room, knocked on my daughter’s bedroom door and asked her politely to turn off the music. She was playing “Iran” by Ajam Band. I simply reminded her that although the second “I” I.R.I stands for Iran, this is not really Iran!
This morning, I woke up to the news that a draw against US will get IR’s team to the second round. I have started to realise, that regardless of whether the players sing the IR anthem in this game or not, whether they celebrate any goals scored or not, won’t make any difference to me. Nothing they do can convince me they are the “people’s team”. That’s why I can’t support them. But at the same time I can’t figure out why I can’t cheer against them. Only thing I know is that I’ll be watching the game, like a mesmerised zombie. Emotionless but emotional!