Fuck Yeah FIFA

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Last April, Walid El Khatroushi (In White) was just a midfielder for the Libyan national team, at a training camp in Tunisia with his team-mates.
Then he visited a friend who had lost an arm fighting for the rebel forces against Colonel Gadaffi. Struck by a pang of conscience, he decided to leave his team-mates, unlace his boots and pick up a gun.
From that moment on, Walid El Khatroushi was no longer just a midfielder. El Khatroushi joined the rebel troops, fighting on the front line, before finally being persuaded to rejoin the squad.
On Saturday night he took to the field against Equatorial Guinea in the opening match of the Africa Cup of Nations.
“For us, this is much more than a football tournament,” he says. You believe him.
Why do footballers play? For enjoyment, for glory, for riches? This Libyan team are playing for their country’s freedom.
Already they have discarded their old strip in Gadaffi green and replaced them with white shirts emblazoned with the nation’s new flag.
Defender Mohamed El Mounir says: “Many of the team had family members killed during the war, so the stakes are high when we wear the colours of our nation.”
El Khatroushi is one of two players in the squad who fought against the Gadaffi regime – goalkeeper Juma Gtat is the other. “Everybody is afraid of dying at a young age, but we had to do something,” El Khatroushi says.
“I’m proud of what we did, but that’s not why we fought. We did it for our country.”
But the whole squad bear the scars of the carnage that has wrecked the nation’s streets and wracked its soul.
All domestic football has been suspended since fighting began. Benghazi players were banned from the national team until the regime was toppled (it is said that the club’s training ground was burnt to the ground on Colonel Gadaffi’s orders).
The team were forced to play their final home qualifying match in Egypt, to which the coach, Brazilian Marcos Paqueta, had to buy his own plane ticket. “Just being here represents success for us,” El Mounir says. You believe him, too.

Wow.

Last April, Walid El Khatroushi (In White) was just a midfielder for the Libyan national team, at a training camp in Tunisia with his team-mates.

Then he visited a friend who had lost an arm fighting for the rebel forces against Colonel Gadaffi. Struck by a pang of conscience, he decided to leave his team-mates, unlace his boots and pick up a gun.

From that moment on, Walid El Khatroushi was no longer just a midfielder. El Khatroushi joined the rebel troops, fighting on the front line, before finally being persuaded to rejoin the squad.

On Saturday night he took to the field against Equatorial Guinea in the opening match of the Africa Cup of Nations.

“For us, this is much more than a football tournament,” he says. You believe him.

Why do footballers play? For enjoyment, for glory, for riches? This Libyan team are playing for their country’s freedom.

Already they have discarded their old strip in Gadaffi green and replaced them with white shirts emblazoned with the nation’s new flag.

Defender Mohamed El Mounir says: “Many of the team had family members killed during the war, so the stakes are high when we wear the colours of our nation.”

El Khatroushi is one of two players in the squad who fought against the Gadaffi regime – goalkeeper Juma Gtat is the other. “Everybody is afraid of dying at a young age, but we had to do something,” El Khatroushi says.

“I’m proud of what we did, but that’s not why we fought. We did it for our country.”

But the whole squad bear the scars of the carnage that has wrecked the nation’s streets and wracked its soul.

All domestic football has been suspended since fighting began. Benghazi players were banned from the national team until the regime was toppled (it is said that the club’s training ground was burnt to the ground on Colonel Gadaffi’s orders).

The team were forced to play their final home qualifying match in Egypt, to which the coach, Brazilian Marcos Paqueta, had to buy his own plane ticket. “Just being here represents success for us,” El Mounir says. You believe him, too.