What Will Iran Do...

I was never really into football. I didn't know anything about it. Even now, it's the same. I remember in school I couldn't dribble like the others, I would lose the ball, my legs were long and skinny, controlling the ball was hard for me, I would get tangled up. But I don't know why I was mostly present on the school football team. Well, I do know, because I had some friendship with the football players at school, and they would come to me for some games. The reason was clear. Since most of them wanted to be strikers and scorers, there weren't many unassuming defenders like me. I had long legs and worked well in defense. They would tell me to just stand there and not let anyone pass. I was responsible; practically no one could get past me, meaning either the ball would pass or the striker, but never both! God knows how many people's feet I wrecked. I remember I even scored a goal once. What a goal! In the finals of the inter-class games at school, I jumped higher than everyone and headed the ball into our own goal. Good times! That was the last serious football game I participated in as a player. After that ridiculous game, the school football players came to me again. This time, however, not for a game but for cheering and chanting on the sidelines. Apparently, because my voice was louder than the others. They said that when I shouted on the sidelines, the opposing team's body would shake. I think it was around those days that my life path was slowly changing. Maybe those chants and cheers on the sidelines strengthened my voice so that later I became an actor and radio announcer. Once, I went with my dad to Azadi Stadium for the Persepolis and Esteghlal game. It was my first and last time. I wasn't a fan of any team. But my dad was always a Persepolis fan and wore red. I shouted and chanted so much that my voice was hoarse for a week. If I'm not mistaken, Esteghlal won that day. Or maybe it was a draw. My dad was really upset. Probably because of that, from that day on, I became a Persepolis fan just to sympathize with him. Now, every time there's a discussion about Persepolis, I have to search on Google to see who the coach is. Although I never follow the Iranian football league matches, whenever there's talk of a national game, my pride surges. Now imagine if it's the national team playing in the World Cup, games that have only happened three times in my lifetime that I could watch. And this year is the fourth time since the revolution that the Iranian national team has qualified for the World Cup. Is there any sporting event more important than this in the world? It's a strange feeling. A mixture of pride, hope, and stress. Pride that your national football team has made it among the top 32 teams in the world and is participating in a major global competition with millions of viewers, and the feeling of hope and stress that means, can it be? Can I finally see the Iranian national team advance from the group stage? Oh, if only it could happen, what a thing it would be! As I write this, there are only a few hours left until Iran's first game in the World Cup in Russia. The game against Morocco. After that, two more tough games against Spain and Portugal, two giants of European football. Our group has been dubbed the 'Group of Death.' We're just lucky like that. In these moments, which are filled with stress for me and perhaps for many Iranians, the only thing that can make me feel a little better is the banter and chanting. Something I used to do best in school years ago. Of course, in a positive way and with a bit of humor. I think the chanting of the fans of both teams without insults and offenses can make both sides feel good, while also making watching football together more enjoyable. Watching something that, apart from watching it, you have no control over the outcome. You just shout, at a ball that isn't under your feet. You get frustrated with the slightest mistake of a player you can never replace. With all the pressures they endure. The sound of shouts echoing from all over the world from millions of fans fills their ears. You can only shout, to maybe cheer up your team a little with shouts of joy that are called support, and perhaps a little dust of time and your personal daily life can be brushed aside, and amidst your chants, you can reach back to your childhood and relive those moments.