Iraq’s Asian Cup victory was achieved despite sectarian divisions within the team, threats to the coaching staff and carnage back home. Coach Jorvan Vieira tells of one of football’s most unlikely triumph.
In the four years since the American-led invasion, no aspect of life in Iraq has been unaffected by violence. That includes sport. In May 2006, the national tennis coach was murdered. Two months later, Olympic officials were kidnapped. Then a member of the Olympic football team was seized outside his home, never to be seen again, and the country’s cycling coach was killed.
This summer, however, sport provided some cheer. Few expected Brazilian coach Jorvan Vieira to lead Iraq beyond the group stages of the Asian Cup. But the country’s footballers stunned their compatriots and themselves by winning a competition that included Australia, Japan and South Korea, all of whom have recently made it to the knockout stages of the World Cup. Ahead of the final against Saudi Arabia in Jakarta on 29 July, goalkeeper Noor Sabri Abbas spoke of his determination to ‘unite the people behind the team, whatever group they belong to’. Only a few days earlier, suicide bombers had killed 50 people celebrating Iraq’s semi-final win. But that didn’t stop the rest of the country coming out to share their joy in a success that was all the more surprising as Vieira was appointed coach less than two months before the Asian Cup began.
Nick Greenslade
I had never coached a side in the Asian Cup and having that on my CV was the main reason why I accepted the job with Iraq when I was offered it in May. After playing in the domestic leagues in Brazil, I had begun my coaching career in the Gulf in the late Seventies. While there I met Jose Faria, another Brazilian coach. We got on well and, when he was appointed Morocco manager in 1986, he brought me in to help. We became the first African team to make it through to the second round of the World Cup finals, drawing with England and beating Portugal. Since then I have managed and enjoyed success with sides in Morocco, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. So when Akram Ahmed Salman resigned as Iraq coach, I suppose I was the most experienced candidate to replace him.
I am also a Muslim. Reports have suggested that I converted to Islam but ‘converted’ is not the right term – I wasn’t religious before. Nor is it true that I only became a Muslim because of my Arab wife, as has also been claimed. In 1989, while in Morocco, I was reading a lot of books about war and peace and began to consider religion more seriously. Two years later, I embraced Islam.
I found out a lot more about war and peace when I took over as Iraq coach. There’s a lot reported about the country in the West, but often that does not give a fair picture of what it is like for the people there. Yes, they have had three major wars in the past 20 years, but they are a very friendly, peace-loving nation. It was, for example, reported that my predecessor, Akram Ahmed Salman, had tried to resign because his family had received death threats. But his resignation had more to do with his differences with some of the players. I’ve only been to Iraq three times, and when I did go it was to Arbil, which is relatively safe so I have had no problems.
The team train in Jordan. You couldn’t run a team from Baghdad. My assistant was forced to abandon his home there and move to Arbil after threats from the local militia. It wasn’t a sectarian thing. When the militias find out that someone is financially well off, they force them to leave so they can take over their possessions. They took his car, as well as his home. It was very sad.
Two months didn’t give me much time to bring the players together, both on and off the pitch. In Amman, where we were based, it was very difficult to find proper grass pitches. A further difficulty was that it soon became apparent that among the Sunnis, Shia and Kurds who made up the team there were differences. Everyone had lost a friend or a relative in the troubles since 2003. But those differences were not insurmountable. Knowing most of them from my coaching days in the Arab leagues probably helped.
I realised early on that I would have to ban any mention of war, religion and politics among them. I extended that to any questions asked by journalists. You just can’t afford to have any bad or sad emotions inside the squad in the run-up to a major tournament. If I found out that two players did not see eye to eye, for whatever reason, then I talked it out with both of them until the issue was resolved. No one was allowed to sit in their room nursing a grievance. We ate all our meals together and when that was done I tried to get everyone to spend at least an hour in one another’s company. I suspect you’ll find that our team room was no different from that of any other country – pool table, PlayStation, TV.
Before the tournament, I told the president of the Iraqi football federation that we could reach the semi-finals. His reaction was: ‘I think we would just be happy to get as far as the quarter-finals.’ After our first game, a draw against Thailand, it looked as if we would be lucky to do just that. The next match, however, against Australia, proved crucial. To win 3-1 against a team that consisted of players from some of the best leagues in Europe gave us a huge lift. It was only then that the team had any genuine self-belief. Beating South Korea on penalties in the semi-final confirmed their ability.
One of the Prime Minister’s spokesmen was with us throughout the tournament and he would put me through to the Prime Minister on an almost daily basis, so we had a pretty good idea of the joy our success was giving the people back home. You only had to see the footage of Iraqis cheering in the streets. It had been a long time since they had had a reason to do that.
But then we learnt about the atrocities in Baghdad: two suicide bombers had killed 50 people, and left many more wounded. Naturally, we were very upset. What made it worse was that the people who had caused those explosions had deliberately targeted our supporters – Iraqis had gone out on to the streets, as is their tradition, to celebrate our win over South Korea and the bombers had then moved in.
That night, we had a team meeting to discuss whether we should carry on. It went on until half one in the morning. The players said: ‘If we win, there will be more killing; if we lose there will be more killing; and if we pull out there will be more killing. At least if we stay on and win, we might be able to bring some happiness into people’s lives.’ And we did.
I never had any doubt that we would defeat Saudi Arabia in the final. Although Younis Mahmoud did not break the deadlock until the 75th minute, the Saudis had never looked like scoring – I’ve spent enough time coaching the Saudi players to know how they would play. When I took the job, I had said that I would only serve until the end of the tournament so my work was now done.
While I celebrated with the players afterwards, first in Indonesia and then when we were back in Amman, I did not accompany them back to Baghdad for their reception. But I am going there in a few days to meet the President and Prime Minister. I have also been speaking to the players and my assistants on a regular basis. When the kit man or physio calls you up to ask how your kids are and what you are doing, that’s the best kind of reward you can have.
It was an incredible experience for me. I am now enjoying some time off but, as a result of our success, I have had people from Australia and Tunisia contact me about coaching positions there. As for the players, people now realise how talented they are. Before the tournament, 13 of them played their football outside Iraq. That figure is now 21. Many of them will hope that they can make it in Europe. Some of them could, yet they will have to remember that being a professional is not simply about being paid. You need a professional attitude, too.
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