The 2026 FIFA World Cup, which officially concluded in the United States, Canada and Mexico on Sunday, has once again ignited passions across the globe. But for Mahmoud Salemi, a former Palestinian national team player in Gaza, the roar of the stadium feels farther away than ever.
The pitch Salemi once dreamed of dominating has been replaced by a patch of gravel between tents, and his football shoes, held together with fraying tape, now only see action in the cramped shadows of a displacement camp in the war-torn enclave.
A gifted midfielder who once dazzled crowds for clubs in Gaza, Egypt, and Jordan, Salemi earned a call-up to the Palestinian national squad, the pinnacle of any local player's career. Yet he never made his international debut. The border crossings were sealed long before he could wear the national colors, and then, in October 2023, the new round of Israeli-Palestinian conflict erupted, forcing the indefinite suspension of Gaza's football league. The professional journey of Salemi, who turns 29 in October, ended before it truly began.
When speaking of the past few years, Salemi's voice carried the weight of numerous lost matches.
"I'm turning 29 and the war has stolen three years from me. When it started, I was 25, which was considered the golden age for any footballer. That's when you're supposed to show your talent, to prove yourself to the world. Instead, I'm sitting in a tent, enduring tremendous hardships," he said in a recent interview with the China Media Group (CMG).
Since the conflict erupted, Mahmoud's days have no longer revolved around training schedules. Instead, they begin before dawn with plastic jerrycans and a grim calculation about how many hours to queue for water, where to scavenge for firewood, and which distribution point might have food supplies. He once walked over 10 kilometers carrying his one-month-old daughter to find a vaccination clinic, and another time, he spend hours trekking for infant diapers, only to return empty-handed.
But the hardest moment, he admits, is when a stranger recognizes him in the breadline.
"They would ask me 'Aren't you Salemi, the footballer?' That really pains me. I should be playing like the players in other countries. I want people to know me because I'm a footballer, not because I'm queuing for relief supplies. People used to say I was good at dribbling past defenders. But in this war, the defender you need to overpower is the hardships and the rough daily existence in this tent," he said.
Although being far away from the pitch, Salemi and his friends often gathered around the small screen of his phone to watch this year's World Cup matches as along as the internet signal allowed and his battery held out. Every goal, every celebration, every roar from the stands was a reminder of the life he was supposed to have.
Yet the game itself has not let go of him. On good days, he laces up his taped shoes and steps into the narrow clearing between the tents to kick the ball or run laps around the camp, while stilling holding dear to his dream of returning to the pitch wearing the colors of his national squad one day.
"Last night, I dreamed I was playing with a friend I used to know in Jordan. In my dream, I was crying as I played because I had wanted so bad to go back to those days. I can't even imagine what it would feel like to play my first real match again. I pray that God keeps us alive long enough to see that day, to return to the pitch once more," Salemi said.
From pitch to tent: A Gaza footballer's World Cup dream interrupted
