Football In Qatar
Qatar Sports Club v Al Khor - 25th April 2008

It was my first weekend back in Doha, and I had a whole day to do as I pleased. After a day of mall loitering and random gurning, the sun set, the air cooled to a pleasant low 20s, and after having some tea/dinner/supper (delete according to social standing), I somehow managed to stumble across a football match. Not in the way a streaker might, I should add. As I was driving away from the restaurant I’d just pillaged, I spotted the bright floodlights of the nearby stadium, just past the tennis complex and wondered if a game was on. My drive to the main road took me closer to it, and I saw the large electronic scoreboard lit up with two club crests and 0-0, so confirming that something was afoot. It might have already kicked off, but there was every chance that it was only early in the game, so I drove round to the stadium itself. I had nothing better to do, and have always fancied catching a game in the Middle East, just for the experience as much as anything.

As I entered the stadium car park I saw that there were a few cars there, but it wasn’t packed by any means, so I parked close to a set of stairs leading up to the stands and ambled up them. On the first landing there was a man selling tickets, and he told me that a ticket was the princely sum of 10 Riyals. I asked who was playing and he smiled at me as if I was a simpleton and should automatically know. Still, I decided it would be worth a watch.

From the scoreboard and the flags everywhere I established was between Qatar Sporting Club and Al Khor, and there was a crowd of about 1,500 to 2,000 in a stadium that held maybe 12,000 or 15,000. Many of the people watching were local men, dressed in their familiar, squint-inducingly brilliant white dish-dashes. Some had football scarves on; some carried drums of different shapes and sizes. There wasn’t a single woman that I could see in the ground apart from one Western woman who walked past with her partner as I entered. Seating was a help-yourself, first-come-first-served affair, and I parked myself near the top row, just about level with the penalty area. I soon realised that this was a big game by how professional everything looked. There were cameras everywhere and electronic advertising boards lined every side of the luscious, green pitch. They even had one of those little electric buggies to carry injured players off the pitch. It was driven in the style of a white Land Cruiser.

When the game kicked off at 6.30 or so, with Qatar SC in yellow and Al Khor in blue, the drumming and chanting started, all conducted by a large man in a yellow T-shirt. I couldn’t help but smile. The throbbing rhythms and enthusiastic chanting won me over straight away. The noise ebbed and flowed with the game, which was played at a good pace considering the climate. Within 2 minutes there was a goal for the home side as a hapless defender glanced a long, raking cross past his ‘keeper and into the net. The drums and chants became louder and confetti fluttered down from the stands. Then, after only another minute, Al Khor had equalized, when a free-kick from the left edge of the penalty area was smashed into the opposite top corner. I laughed and shook my head. Utter madness, but great fun.

Sadly, the action died down a bit, but there were still moments of excitement. Some of the attacking play was quite impressive, but then some of the defending was of the slapstick variety. I couldn’t see it finishing 1-1. Qatar Sports Club’s defence looked particularly shaky, especially with a very short goalkeeper who was good at shouting, but not so good at coming for high balls. The first half ended with Qatar SC earning a penalty and taking the lead.

Half time’s arrival means only one thing wherever you watch a game: refreshment. I’d seen people coming down the steps with packets of pumpkin seeds, shwarmas and little cartons of juice or water. I left my seat to find the source of the food and drink and saw a man at the top of the stand with boxes of the stuff I wanted, so I bought a drink and a packet of seeds (2 Riyals), and returned to my seat for the second half.

The second period was a story of missed chances. Al Khor pressed for an equaliser and Qatar played on the break, splitting the defence time and again, but missing every time. The local supporters became more and more frustrated, shouting, “YALLAH!” whenever they broke, then tutting and stamping frustrated sandals onto the concrete when they again failed to score. The odd English term could be heard, such as “shoot” or “offside”, but sadly I never heard an, “Abdullah, you’re shite!” I don’t know what the Arabic is for that.

As it was the home team held on for the win, as far as I know. I left the game with a minute or two of injury time to go, mainly to beat the rush. As I left, a local teenager held his scarf over his head and grinned at me. “Winners!” he said as I passed him. I smiled and nodded. This is what makes the game of football what it is. Cultural divides just melt away when it comes to willing your team to stick the ball in the onion bag. Or it could be goatskin sack.
Epilogue:

After the game I decided to have a look the net to find out about Qatar Sporting Club, and found out that they have some famous, if slightly past-it, names on their books, including the likes of Christophe Dugarry, Claudio Cannigia and Marcel Desailly. I don’t think any of the big names played last night, but could be wrong. The number 23 looked familiar from a distance. The announcements were all in Arabic, and the scoreboard wasn’t much help either. The one name I remember hearing over the PA was a chap called Karkouri, who used to play for Charlton Athletic in England. Also, it was Emir’s Cup quarter-final, and QSC are now in the semi-final, to be played on 3rd May. I might just trundle along for it.

Little Jimmy