DOHA, Qatar — For the State of Qatar, the World Cup draw to be held this Friday is the bell that will signal the last lap of a race that began more than two decades ago. It was then that the Persian Gulf country, modest in square kilometers, population and name recognition (at the time), but rich in Gross Domestic Product per capita and ambition, decided to make sport one of the central axes of its development. .
Sport would raise the country’s profile, boost business opportunities, provide some kind of legacy for the day when oil and natural gas inevitably run out. That was just one of the edges of the strategy: security (the US Army Central Command for the Persian Gulf is based in Doha), the media (Al Jazeera) and education were also priorities. But in a way, sport was the most significant.
The most important step in this journey was taken on December 2, 2010, when the vote of the FIFA Executive Committee granted them the venue for the 2022 World Cup. It would end up being a day full of controversies (three of the 25 members of the Committee executive were suspended for acts of corruption before the vote took place, while 11 others were subsequently banned, prosecuted or suspended, and veteran FIFA president Sepp Blatter was ousted a few years later); however, it meant that Qatar was on course unable to turn back.
And now comes the moment of truth.
This Friday’s draw will define how the 32 participating nations will line up in groups of four teams each. Well: it will define almost everything, because real life has obviously interfered through a pandemic and a war, which means that there are still three slots to be defined. Unless there is a new unexpected twist, a place will be disputed by Ukraine, Scotland and Wales; another, for Australia, the United Arab Emirates and Peru and the final quota for Costa Rica and New Zealand. While most of FIFA’s 211 member countries saw their World Cup dreams come to an end long ago (and just as many jumped off the bandwagon in the past 10 days), fans from 37 countries can still aspire, at least until June, when the remaining qualifiers are played.
What will they find when the calendar reaches the month of November and the so-called “Greatest Spectacle in Global Sport” begins? A World Cup like no other.
To begin with, we are used to seeing countries organizing World Cups; however, this is essentially a tournament held in one city: Doha. Qatar has a population of close to 2.5 million people, and almost 90% of these reside in the Doha metropolitan area. Seven of the eight host stadiums are located in the center of Doha, or within a few kilometers of the city limits. The one that is not so close (Al Khor) is barely 48 kilometers away. Never in the history of this sport have so many “things” (players, fans, sponsors, executives, marauders) been concentrated in such a small space.
Likewise, a World Cup has never been played in a place that felt so new, so detached from the limitations of history and, specifically, the culture of football.
Qatari culture is rich and ancient: humans have lived here since the Stone Age; however, the nation itself did not achieve independence until 1971 and, for much of its history, was ruled by others, whether British, Saudi or Ottoman. that independence, which largely coincided with the discovery of vast oil and gas reserves, was a boon. His riches were saved (relatively speaking) from being extracted by foreigners. Suddenly, he found himself with a blank slate in his development, with enough money to do (practically) anything.
Doha seemed to be a huge construction site when I first visited almost 20 years ago. Although today it is more extensive and daring, it still looks like a work to be finished. Very few tangible things precede the turn of the millennium: not the luxury condominium towers, not the mega-malls filled with familiar brands, not even the stadiums themselves. Most of them look what you’d expect them to look like: eye-catching architectural follies that look especially stunning from afar, though one (Stadium 974) deserves credit for its creativity, as it was entirely built with containers and will be dismantled after the tournament.
They also add to the air of lack of permanence and rootlessness: you’re in Qatar, but you could be anywhere else, anywhere the worlds of sport and entertainment, sponsorship and politics meet.
In a way, that’s an unfair criticism. The last countries that have served as World Cup hosts (Russia, Brazil, South Africa, Germany) not only had strong and distinctive football cultures; they also have powerful “country brands” recognized worldwide. They have identities familiar to the people and upon which the tournament was built. Qatar does not have that luxury. In the eyes of many, Qataris are what the world chooses to project onto them: a petro-state of the Persian Gulf, with cut-and-dried designs, extremely wealthy with an absolutist ruler, garish luxury buildings and designer shops, a nation that mistreats migrant workers and likes to accumulate shiny assets, such as the 2022 World Cup, in fact. It’s fair? Probably not.
Qatar would respond by pointing out the progress it has made (especially relative to its neighbors) in areas such as women’s rights, democratic processes, education; and, thanks in part to the attention the World Cup has drawn, the rights and working conditions of migrants. But it is clear that much work remains to be done. And if the 2022 World Cup is to have any purpose for the country, beyond providing global sports entertainment and bragging rights, Qataris will need to improve the way they tell their story to the rest of the world.
The bell has rung, this is the last lap. Now is when you have to fight so that all the effort has been worth it.
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The draw in Qatar marks the beginning of a World Cup like no other