DEARBORN, Mich.— From the sidelines of a sweltering domed field in the Detroit suburbs, Zee Esho keeps his eye on the season opener of the local Iraqi Chaldean soccer league. It's only the first game of the summer, and things are getting heated: a few minutes in and there's already been a yellow card. One of the goalies is yelling so much you'd think the World Cup's Ballon d'Or was at stake.
In this Michigan soccer town where people take the game seriously, excitement is in the air for the World Cup, and especially for one team in particular: Iraq. The Lions of Mesopotamia, as the team is nicknamed, haven't qualified for the World Cup since 1986, so long ago that generations of Iraqis have never seen their team compete in the world's most prominent tournament.
That's the case for 34 year-old Esho, who emigrated from Iraq to Michigan as a kid. But he remembers how, back in his home country, soccer was the only thing that could bring the diverse nation's ethnic and religious groups together even in times of war and unrest.
"Even you see it now," says Esho, marveling at the way the team's victory in the World Cup qualifiers electrified Dearborn's large Iraqi diaspora.
"When they play, you have people from the South, from the North, from the West, from the East, all gathering together to watch the game."
Yes, he smiles knowingly, Iraq is playing in a group with teams that are so good some have dubbed it a "Group Of Death": Norway, Senegal and France. But he says making it this far is what counts. "If they win one game, one game, which I am sure they will, Iraq fans will go crazy."
Whether you call it soccer, futbol, or kurut alqadam, in most of the world it's more than just a sport: it's like a religion, one that is getting more and more converts in the U.S.
Waad Sana, the owner of a store called Soccer World, says it wasn't always this way. In 1976, when he migrated to the U.S. from Iraq as a teenager, one of the first things he wanted to do was play ball. He went to a sports store, "and I asked the associate: 'Do you have football?' He comes in and he brings me the brown football. I said, 'What the heck is this?' I thought he was making fun of me."
These days, Sana says the store gets about 100 calls per day asking for Iraqi national team jerseys (there's a waitlist).
Sana says he went to see Iraq the last time the team played in the World Cup in Mexico in 1986. The experience is what inspired him to open this store. That feels like a lifetime ago.
"Imagine for 40 years, that's 10 tries to qualify for the World Cup, and Iraq [failing] at it," says Sana. "And now we made it. For me to see that love and passion, it gives you goosebumps."
He's even got some vintage Iraqi soccer chants ready to teach the kids.
"Even if they're like 6 years old, they know," says Abbas Alwishah, director of Michigan FC, a youth league that attracts kids of all ages from Detroit's diverse immigrant communities.
"Their parents watch it, and they hear about it in the community," Alwishah says, as his team of middle-school-aged players run warm up drills under the sweltering summer sun. "To them it's like their heritage."
It's not just Michiganders of Iraqi heritage who are rooting for Iraq this summer. Fans of all nationalities are cheering for the underdog.
Sixteen-year-old Fatima Alzahraa Yazdchi is originally from Kuwait, which did not qualify for the World Cup. But without hesitation, she lists her bracket in this World Cup: Cristiano Ronaldo, Iran and definitely Iraq. "I feel like that's a big milestone for them. This should be an exciting World Cup."
On game days, she'll be watching on TV with her dad, who she says taught her most of her soccer skills and her passion for the game. "Gotta see them win!" Fatima grins, before rejoining the rest of the girls' team for one-on-one drills.
At the very least fans will see Iraq play a good game, which is a victory 40 years in the making.
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