THE KEEPER WHO WENT TO WAR
The goalkeeper is hoisted high above the huge, wild crowd in front of the Clock Tower in Homs, Syria. He’s propped up by a mass of humanity, as if he’s a crowd surfer at a heavy metal gig. There’s a volume to match. Thousands of frenzied men jump up and down, lock arms and spin in circles as their hero is passed through to a raised platform. But this is not the end to some dramatic football tournament – it’s a furious political protest.
Warned that his life is in danger – that assassins of the regime he detests, the dictatorship of Bashar al-Assad, may be gunning for him – the goalkeeper points to his head.
“Listen, oh sniper: here’s the neck and here’s the head,” he goads. The crowd erupts. What follows is extraordinary. Like a football terrace, the gathering fervently parrots his chants.
“The army’s hearts are dead! Who is killing us? The army and our supposed brothers!” “Bashar kills his own people to stay in power – shame on him!” “It’s your choice, soldier: to heal or kill!” “Homs the audacious! Leave, leave, leave!”
After the performance, the goalkeeper is bundled into a car and the crowd claws at this hybrid of rock star and rebel; Diego Maradona, Mick Jagger and Che Guevara, all at once. The car speeds away and the children of Homs run after it, singing, “Baset, we love you!”
The goalkeeper is on top of the world. It’s early 2011, and the Syrian rebellion is young.
In the wake of the Arab Spring, a series of pro-democracy uprisings and protests across the area, hope has returned to an oppressed people. Assad’s violent
