 Soccer pride
From southern California to Iranians everywhere
By Pouya Alimagham
November 12, 2003
The Iranian
Last week my friends and I got together
to go see the
documentary film, "Football, Iranian Style" by Maziar
Bahari over at the Pacific Film Archive at UC Berkeley.
It was important for me to see this
film because I had read that it basically documented what
Iranian football meant to the Iranian people both in
and out of Iran, and how it moved them. For weeks, I
had been promoting it through email on
behalf of our student group ISAA. I
wanted everyone to see it.
The film brought tears rolling down my face.
It made me remember of the
jubilance that overcame us when Iran beat the United
States in the 1998 World Cup in France.
I was sixteen years old when the famous battle of
wills took place and I remember it vividly.
The World
Cup and other sporting events are meant to be
apolitical, but this one definitely had its political
overtones. They kept showing footage from the hostage
crisis and interviewing former hostages. It was
hyped up: "Old Foes Meet". As sixteen year olds, we
had no idea why the hostage crisis took place, nor did
we care.
All we knew was that our Iran was playing the
United States and it was a monumental game, not just
for the sake of the World Cup, but also for all
Iranians, those in the country who live difficult
lives, and those in the diaspora, who yearn for the
homeland and for the preservation of their identity.
In other words, it was very important to all Iranians
that their national football team defeat the
United States in the football field. Like all
Iranians all over the world, we were ecstatic over our
team's triumphant victory. But for immigrants who
share my family's experience, the victory tasted sweet
in another way. You see, I grew up in northern Orange County,
in southern California, where it was not okay being Iranian.
On the first day of junior high school, a student called my brother
a "camel jockey". My dad's advice was that if you let
one person
make fun of you, then everyone would follow. So my brother
basically wound up punching the guy's lights out. This had ramifications
we did not foresee.
The next
day, my brother had to answer to the guy's older
brother, who was in eighth grade. My brother
ended up whipping the older brother as well. Over
time, my brother got really good at fighting because
he basically went into combat mode with anyone who was
racist towards him. In other words, he fought a lot,
which is very damaging to one's psyche when you begin
to perceive everyone as your enemy. And because of
this, he hated going to school - what he deemed a nest
of racists.
You can imagine his grades
did not turn out very good and my parents were not
pleased. It's difficult for one to experience hardship throughout
school and
then come home and get lectured all the time about
bad grades. In addition, our house was
constantly vandalized, a form of psychological
warfare. We were under attack because we were
Iranian. Our Iranian identity was under
attack.
So, when Iran beat the U.S. in the World Cup,
it was one of those rare days my family, friends, and I were
openly proud to be Iranian. We were all watching it
at a local Pizza Hut. When the game was over we all
hurriedly jumped into our cars and raced for the
streets. Initially, there were about five cars in our
group.
Before we knew it, another fifteen or so cars
joined us. We turned Culver Avenue into a street
parade of cars driven by Iranians who had
grown up and lived in the United States whose team had lost
at the hands of our gallant Iranian team. We did not stop at
red lights fearing it would divide the
float, so we just passed right through them. We had
that authority that day, especially with our Iranian
flags waving through the air.
"Football, Iranian Style" displayed that our
celebration was not unique. It happened all over the
world, which makes our celebration seem more profound
now that I know it was part of a bigger festivity.
It's interesting that when history is unfolding
in front of your eyes, you can not fully appreciate the
gravity of the occasion. It's only until later when
you sit back and ponder and realize that you lived and
witnessed a very important moment for all Iranians, not
because we won, but because for a brief moment, all
Iranians all over the world were united in
celebration. It didn't matter what your politics,
religion, or gender was; if you were Iranian on that
day, you were in an unforgettable state of euphoria.
Author
Pouya Alimagham is the president of the Iranian
Student Alliance in America (ISAA)
and a senior at UC Berkeley studying Middle East studies
and political science.
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