In a move that has sent tremors through the global diplomatic circuit and caused several State Department functionaries to choke on their overpriced lattes, Iran’s World Cup squad has touched down in Mexico City. The team, a collection of footballers whose combined wages couldn't buy a single US congressman’s hair transplant, found themselves the unwilling protagonists in a farce that would make Samuel Beckett blush. The US, in its infinite wisdom, decided that granting visas to the Iranian team was a step too far, perhaps fearing they might bring a rogue carpet or a suspiciously fluffy cat into Fortress America. So instead, the team will train in Mexico, a country that presumably has fewer issues with footballers from the Axis of Evil.
This diplomatic kerfuffle, which has been brewing longer than a stew in a Tehran bazaar, reached its zenith when the US embassy in London, the city where the team were based prior to departure, elected to play hardball. Why let a few footballers into the land of the free when you could instead create an international incident that would make a toddler’s tantrum look like a masterclass in conflict resolution? The Iranian players, who had been patiently waiting for their visas like children outside a sweet shop, were informed that their applications were being ‘reviewed’. This is State Department code for ‘we’re going to let this simmer until the match is over and then claim it was a security concern’.
Now the team finds themselves in Mexico, a nation that has its own unique relationship with the United States, mostly involving walls and tariff disputes. They will train in the altitude of Mexico City, which is marginally less politically toxic than the altitude of Washington DC. The Mexican Football Federation, who clearly have more spine than the combined foreign policy apparatus of the US, stepped in to offer sanctuary. One can only imagine the conversation: ‘Sure, we’ll host the Iranians. What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve already got enough problems with the cartels, a few footballers won’t make a difference.’
The irony, of course, is that the US is hosting the World Cup in just a few years time. One wonders how they plan to handle visa applications for 32 teams then. Perhaps they’ll build a giant moat around the stadiums and fill it with bureaucratic red tape. The Iranians, for their part, have been stoic. Their captain, a man with a beard that could double as a bird’s nest, said: “We are here to play football, not politics. But if politics wants to play us, we will score an own goal in protest.” This is, of course, a paraphrase, but it captures the spirit of the thing.
Meanwhile, in Tehran, the government has issued a statement calling the US action ‘an act of psychological warfare’. This is the same government that regularly declares the US to be the Great Satan, so it’s a bit like a fish complaining about water. But the real victims here are the players, who just wanted to kick a ball around and maybe win a few fans. Instead, they’re caught in a game of diplomatic ping-pong that would make a pigeon dizzy.
The World Cup, that festival of global unity and corporate sponsorship, is once again reminding us that politics and sport are as entwined as a pretzel. And in this particular twist, the US has managed to turn a football match into a diplomatic minefield. Bravo. As for the Iranians, they’ll train in Mexico, drink tequila, and probably wonder why the country that invented democracy can’t figure out how to let a few footballers through its gates. The answer, of course, is that democracy is a messy business, especially when there’s an election coming up. But that’s a story for another day. For now, we raise a glass of cheap airport gin to the Iranians, may their football be as fierce as their foreign policy.
