I woke up to a blue sky and wondered where I was. A few seconds of confusion and it was ‘oh yes, it’s the World Cup, but where are we? Oh that’s right, we’re in Qatar. And what day is it? I can’t actually remember’.
It was Saturday 3rd December, yes December 2022, and it’s hotter and brighter than July at home. We’d had a late night and now we had the whole day ahead of us with nothing planned other than getting to the Argentina vs Australia game at 10pm tonight. Perfect. Let’s see what Doha had to offer.
We are staying on the coast in a place called The Corniche which is the other side of the bay directly opposite the central business district. It is within sight of Stadium 974 and the three enormous cruise ships doubling as hotels for World Cup fans. It is of course very nice, as seemingly everywhere is, but it is also very quiet, quiet being a key facet of this city.
We decided to have a lazy morning, time to catch up, write my blog and get organised for the day ahead. We can walk everywhere here and it is completely safe, as safe, if not safer than Japan was back in 2002. And safe is good, trust me, I’ve been to plenty of places watching England which were stressful to say the very least.
Walking out of our hotel we took our now established short cut across a building site to get onto the promenade and head to the Souq Waqif for something to eat. I love Middle Eastern food and although meat plays a pretty central role, it’s usually easy to eat deliciously spiced and fragrant plant based food. Most of the time. Doha is no exception.
As we made our way to the Souq, we came across what can only be described as a mix of trade show stands and public art installments which were clearly all in place to add to the whole World Cup atmosphere, and cater for all the ‘people’. Except that there is a distinct lack of people. Ok, so it’s Saturday which in the Middle East is like the European Sunday, so maybe people were doing other things? We felt certain everything would liven up later in the day, especially given there was what looked like the world’s widest screen visible from our hotel window, and loads and loads of seating all in an almost perfect grassy setting.
We came across the ‘Brazilian Pavilion’ and then the ‘British Pavilion’, yes British on account it was representing England and Wales. The staff at both told us they were open in a few hours. The British one was themed with the ‘Britain is Great’ branding, something the UK government had been using since 2010 to promote the UK’s creative industries to the world, which did feel oddly out of place at a World Cup, especially given England and Wales were actually group adversaries.
We met plenty of people on this amble through this cultural installation, but all of them bar one were people actually working there. Another thing you see a lot of in Doha is people in various uniforms, whether it is security, fan helpers, builders, retail workers and yet more security. Security guards seem to outnumber fans in most places. But we did meet Peter from Channel 5 who told us how happy he was to meet some actual England fans, seeing as they were as rare as hen’s teeth in this city. There is no doubt at all that the English, unlike the Welsh, had not turned up in the numbers that they would usually do at a World Cup.
Lunch in the Souq was properly local and properly excellent. The Souq is the place to be, chocked full of a mix of football fans and locals. The noise and general hubbub is something to behold. Plenty of American, a few Croatian, Mexican, Uruguayan, Dutch and Australians and loads and loads of Argentinians. There is no doubt at all, at the nine World Cups I’ve been to, Argentina always have more actual genuine fans than anyone else and they are without doubt the most vocal. Yes you will see more Brazil shirts at World Cups but when Argentina are in town, they are in town. England have played them three times in my time, and we’ve always been outnumbered. Some reports say there are 90,000 Argentinian fans, actually from Argentina right here in Qatar. That would not surprise me at all if that were true. Hats off to them all.
We had a stroll round ‘Downtown Doha’ and came across the Argentinian Pavilion, which was mobbed and had one theme, and one theme only. FOOTBALL. You could kick a ball, dribble with a ball and head a ball. All the trophies were there, all the Argentinian football culture was there for all to touch, feel, see and hear. If England fans think they love football, just remember the Argentinians take it to a whole different level.
However, we had a very important break from the football to fit in. A couple of horses in the Noel Fehily Racing Team were running in very competitive races at Sandown and we needed to make sure we could watch them both. Kirsty set things up with her betting account so that we could see the magnificent Love Envoi and then Revels Hill take on their opponents on a wet and cold day back home. We found a bar, settled down with her phone and enjoyed a magnificent win and a creditable fourth. The day was great, but it just got even better.
We decided not to underestimate the travel time to get to the stadium for the Argentina vs Australia game, which kicked off at 10pm local time. The Ahmad Bin Ali stadium was a couple of Metro line rides and a walk at the other end, so we reckoned on allowing two hours to get there. The whole Metro system is pretty new and no one really seemed to know if it was reliable or not.
I decided to wear a football shirt to a World Cup game for the very first time ever. I would show my support and solidarity for Australia, whilst also making a ‘friendly’ statement to the thousands of Argentinian fans, by wearing my 2010 World Cup Brazil shirt. That shirt was a gift from my very good friend Dom who was working for Nike in South Africa at that time. Kirsty decided to wear her multi coloured SpecialEffect (who are the most wonderful charity we love to support) shirt just to add to the overall festival of colour. We had both decided early doors to wear rainbow themed attire, but were conscious of the brouhaha that had surrounded the whole issue of LGBTQ+ and womens’ rights out here, or more specifically the total lack of them. We didn’t want to be rude, but we did want to show respect & solidarity. Kirsty wore her feather rainbow head dress and I had my captain’s rainbow armband.
As we got to reception, I realised that I had the wrong trainers on for the game, so dashed back up to get my Pride Converse on. Football and life are all about the small details and I needed these trainers on. Kirsty was on her own, complete with head dress and decided to get proactive (who’s have thought, eh?) telling anyone who would listen that ‘she did have a husband, who was on his way’ and ‘she was wearing her head dress to contribute to the carnival atmosphere’. If it was me, I would just act normally and front it out so to speak. But that’s what makes us two the team we are.
The doorman at our hotel insisted, in an exceptionally polite way, that we did not need to take a cab to the Metro station as there was a shuttle bus every 15 minutes. Bless him, he stood with us at the bus stop until the bus came. There were Argentinian fans everywhere singing and dancing. I asked the doorman if this carnival atmosphere was usual on a Saturday night in Doha. With a smile as big as you have ever seen he said, ‘oh no, this is the World Cup and you are not allowed to make any noise normally. Doha is very, very quiet’. Much as we had expected, this World Cup is a proper clash of cultures. Anyway, the bus, which was a very ‘mini’ bus, complete with the most subtle branding ever, arrived at the stop only to then drive on. Our man waved and then walked fast and faster to then break into the most wonderfully graceful jog, ensuring it stopped around the corner. He did this all the while smiling and being incredibly polite and calm. Four women, complete with an enormous haul of upmarket shopping bags, then proceeded to try to alight the minibus, literally overcoming the rogue seat that was blocking rather than allowing access to the door. Once the last woman managed to get out, they all realised they were at the wrong hotel so they all proceeded to try and get back in again. Kirsty and I then performed gymnastics to get a seat. But we were off, at last! Or at least we thought we were! The ‘bus’ literally pulled up 25 metres later to the correct hotel our fellow travelers were clearly staying at. They all alighted for the second time, once again scaling what felt like their very own Everests.
Eventually we arrived at the National Museum Metro station, which looked like it had been prepared for Glastonbury style crowds to descend up on it given the number and complexity of crowd control barriers present. There were of course the prerequisite number of staff all dressed in various denominations of uniforms all helping the few fans get into the station. The Metro is very new and very, very clean. There is no litter in Doha and if there is, there is always someone on hand to pick it up.
We had to change trains at Msheireb from the Yellow Line and take the Green Line to the stadium. At last we were joined by the fans. All Argentinians and all intent on signing their songs all the way, complete with banging the ceiling panels of the brand new train carriages. You could feel the nervous anxiety of the impeccably dressed, very quiet and polite Arabs who must have wondered what they had let themselves in for!
We walked to the stadium which was not a sea, but more of an ocean of light blue and white with the very occasional spot of Aussie yellow and green and an English bloke in a Brazilian shirt. This was River Plate, Racing Club, Independiente, San Lorenzo and Boca Juniors all together as one in the desert.
But we still needed to get through security and into the ground without any incident. As Kirsty went through the first security check point I decided to try and distract the security guards with my smile combined with a number of polite inquiries all the time trying to get a picture of Kirsty. One of the guards spotted what I was doing and came over and said ‘no photos’ to which I then pointed at the stadium and asked ‘can I take a picture of that?’ all the while smiling. He said ‘yes of course’ and we were away and through the first checkpoint anyway. Only two more security barriers to get through!
We got through the next two checkpoints all the while smiling and asking loads of questions. Always remember the magician’s trick or distracting their audience in order to mask their slight of hand.
The atmosphere in the stadium was incredible and that was down to the Argentinians who were everywhere. Every time Messi’s name was mentioned pre match it was as if the Messiah had come back to earth, such is their sheer reverence for the little footballing genius. I had seen a much younger Messi play for Barcelona in the Champions League Final in Rome and score with a header to sink Manchester United 2-0, and hoped to see his greatness one more time, in this, his last World Cup. The two previous Argentinian number 10’s I had seen play against England were Ortega and the great Maradona. If Argentina are to win this World Cup it will be Messi who does it, just like Maradona did in 86.
Anyway just before kick off, who do you think shows up in the seats in front of us? It’s only the boys we met the night before, the very same ones who knew our friends from Israel. What are the chances of that happening a crowd of over 40,000? Quite incredible. Unlike last night when they were ‘Brazilian’ tonight they were ‘Argentinian’!
The game was a great one. Argentina should have been home and hosed really, the Messiah duly scored, the Aussie goalie then made a proper ricket to make it 2-0, but the Aussies fought all the way pulled it back to 2-1. They almost leveled it up twice in the dying minutes. Australia can be proud of their boys, heroes all, and Messi, well it was one of his greatest games in an Argentinian shirt. And we were lucky enough to be there.
Our journey back was very relaxed, mainly down to the fact that pretty much all the Argentinian fans stayed in the stadium for at least half an hour after the final whistle to pay homage to the little man, their true Messiah.
But one last thing before bed. We got back to Souq Waqif and found a place to eat. It was a classic in every sense. Packed out with more people than I have ever seen in a restaurant, the doorman was also the man who gave you a menu and the order taker. He wrote down our order and you then took that to the main man who was surrounded by clerks all pushing to get access to the one computer that the hand written order got punched into. The main man had a wooden drawer stuffed full of receipts and cash. There was no queuing system as such, but everyone was incredibly good humoured and relaxed, and it was 2.30am!
Needless to say, everything I fancied was off the menu and we had a choice of ‘Mandy Chicken’ which didn’t really look like my kind of thing and ‘Meat Buried’ which was the only alternative. Loads of waiters asked me what we had ordered and eventually 3 lots of Mandy Chicken arrived and the said ‘Meat Buried’. Getting a refund for the extra chicken was surprising easy and I was pleased that the bed of rice and rather wonderful chilli sauce was quite simply delicious, possibly the best rice I have ever eaten. Kirsty had my ‘Meat Buried’ and all was well…
We wandered along The Corniche, past the fan zones that are were still far more ‘’zone’ than fan, and got home. What a fantastic day and night we had. To see such a brilliant footballer will live long in the memory. Messi had also just clocked up his 1,000th professional game. If the World Cup is coming home to where those masses of Argentinian fans, from Argentina, believe is it’s, it will be down to the Messiah to deliver it.
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