Between Iran and Iraq, and Without Israel: This Will Be Pure Football
In the final episode of “Queen of the Neighborhood,” the documentary about Bnei Yehuda, there is a meeting between the charming fan Shauli and the players. After he picks up the tomatoes the other fans threw, and while he is upset, Shauli tries to make sense to the players. He explains how much it hurts him and how it affects his home. And the emblem, the emblem. The players in front of him also respond that they suffer. Hey, this is our livelihood. A kind of meeting in which one friend falls on the shoulders of another, and each side tries to convince the other why he takes it more to heart. The stars, the national teams and the stories in one place, the 2026 World Cup, the special page.
I am not here to decide who is more miserable at Bnei Yehuda. That is beyond me. The competition there is really tough. If Dostoevsky were alive, he would probably have found a suitable proverb for this team. And the truth is, there is enough suffering at this club for everyone. One can only agree that football, in general, is an event of drips of happiness swallowed by an ocean of torment. A kind of contract in which you pay in tears and blood for the team you chose to love. A contract in which the more invested you are, and the more you go to matches and training sessions, and hang on the fence, the more it costs you. And over time, football becomes less football and becomes everything around it. Until sometimes we forget why we are even there, and how we got here.
All this introduction comes to say that the World Cup opening tonight is an opportunity for something else. True, we will probably not support Iran, and when Argentina and Messi step onto the grass our hearts will soar, and when Iraq plays we will wish them sinkholes in the box and a giant brawl with Senegal, and still, it will not be personal. And above all, it will be an opportunity to enjoy football, pure and simple. Without emotions that are unrelated to the actual play. Without self-flagellation. Without “you ruined my life, Shauli.” Without the Israel national team, which as usual will lie on the couch with a bowl of black sunflower seeds. A concentrate of football. Slaloms, bicycle kicks, free kicks, that is it. That does not mean that behind the scenes of the world’s best teams everything is whipped cream. Ronaldo bends Portugal just as Eliran Atar did with Bnei Yehuda. Every place has its troubles. Only now we have the privilege not to drown in them. I entered all 104 matches into my calendar. I went over the remaining schedule. I trimmed what I could. Sorry, there is no time left for the bleak reality around us. Not for Trump and the Iranians. Not for Tali Gottlieb. Not for Dostoevsky. Not for everything we have been through. Just football. For God’s sake, just football.
Our side issue these days is Deni Avdija’s next contract with Portland. Not to the point of obsession. Come on, we still have other things to discuss. For example, Dor Peretz’s contract. But it is certainly something we are keeping an eye on. It is important to us that they do not shortchange our All-Star in the fine print. That there be no mix-ups. Even so, this season he earned millions less than he gave. It hurts to think about it.
It is much more than voyeurism. Avdija’s next contract is another way to lift our sports scene. To push ourselves onto the same line as the enlightened sports world. In days when the whole planet is coming together for the World Cup, and we are in the role of those people say about, “just don’t let them interfere,” Avdija’s contract is proof. Here we are, on the map, and on the menu of the most Michelin-starred restaurant in America.
Avdija, dad, move right. Let us handle this negotiation. This is a bigger matter than you. National prestige. We will get you per diem, phone reimbursement, public transit, everything. Portland will still be taking out 20-year loans after we are done with them. How many more blows can we take? With all due respect to a world that does not count Israeli sports and stages a World Cup behind our backs, they will not hit us in the pocket too.
