Equating Iran’s team with the regime punishes players for circumstances they don’t control

Monday, 29 June 2026

Iran goalkeeper Alireza Beiranvand is an inspirational character, having overcome a deprived upbringing to realise his dream.

Donna Miles is an Iranian-Kiwi columnist and writer based in Christchurch, and a regular opinion contributor.

OPINION: Anyone who knows me would know that I am not a sports fan.

So imagine my husband’s surprise when I sprang out of bed at 2am in London to watch Iran play New Zealand. Getting up was not much of an effort because I was already wide awake with excitement.

Alastair joined me. He had already told me he wouldn’t mind if Iran won. Several other Kiwis had said the same thing, explaining that Iranians could do with a bit of good news.

Even writing this now brings back the emotions I felt when I received those messages, some from complete strangers. Their kindness simply reinforced what I already believe about most New Zealanders: they are deeply empathetic people.

Naturally, Alastair still cheered enthusiastically when New Zealand scored. That is completely understandable and a healthy sign of a balanced, integrated identity.

Sadly, that same integrated identity does not exist for every Iranian. At the start of the match, I WhatsApped a Kurdish-Iranian friend in New Zealand to ask who he was supporting. His reply did not surprise me: “New Zealand, of course.”

Many Kurdish people in Iran routinely cheer against the Iranian national team, Team Melli. They see the team as representing a vision of Iranian identity that sidelines their language, culture, and history. It does not help that Iran’s most popular football club is named Persepolis, after the ancient ceremonial capital of the Persian Empire.

Kurds and other ethnic minorities view this as symbolic of Persian-centric nationalism that glorifies a pre-Islamic imperial heritage, which feels exclusionary in today’s multi-ethnic Iran.

This mirrors dynamics seen in other multi-ethnic countries where sports teams and matches become proxies for identity politics. In Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, and the Republic of Ireland, many fans actively root against England in international competitions, especially football, but also rugby and cricket. This attitude is often captured in the phrase “Anyone But England”. Some surveys have found Scots derive more pleasure from England losing than from their own team winning.

In Spain, football vividly reflects the distinct national identities of Catalonia and the Basque Country. FC Barcelona serves as the prime symbol of Catalanism. Its famous motto, “Més que un club” (“More than a club”), highlights its role as a powerful cultural and political force. During Franco’s dictatorship, the club became one of the few safe outlets for Catalan expression.

Athletic Bilbao, meanwhile, embodies Basque identity through its longstanding policy of signing only Basque-born or Basque-developed players. This “cantera” philosophy (youth development system) represents cultural self-reliance and pride. Both clubs have positioned themselves in opposition to Madrid-centric Spain, their identities sharpened during decades of suppression of regional languages under Franco.

Despite these strong regional feelings, most (though not all) Basques and Catalans still support Spain’s national team, La Roja, during major tournaments, especially when some of their star players are included.

Spain’s Nico Williams, who plays his club football for Athletic Bilbao, a club that only signs Basque-born or -developed players, in action against Cape Verde.

This shows sport's undeniable power to unite people and create shared identity. The haka performed by the All Blacks before rugby matches is a striking example of a unifying national ritual that helps foster New Zealand’s bicultural identity.

As an Iranian, however, it is profoundly saddening to see segments of the Iranian diaspora, particularly some Pahlavi monarchists, withhold support from Team Melli during the World Cup, framing the team as merely an extension of the Islamic Republic rather than a genuine representative of the nation.

This stance has sometimes manifested in aggressive, profanity-laden protests outside and inside stadiums in Los Angeles, unsettling the players who already face highly discriminatory treatment by the US: forcing the squad to base themselves in Mexico, requiring them to enter the US shortly before games and depart immediately afterward with little time to recover, and denying visas to many support staff.

Iran’s Team Melli is composed of athletes from varied ethnic and social backgrounds, many of whom have endured personal hardships and navigated complex social and political pressures.

A striking example is goalkeeper Alireza Beiranvand, who was born into a poor nomadic family in rural Iran. As a teenager, he ran away from home to pursue his dream in Tehran, initially sleeping on streets and outside club grounds, while working as a car washer, pizza maker, and street cleaner to survive.

His remarkable journey from poverty and exclusion to becoming a national hero and Guinness World Record holder for the longest throw by a goalkeeper in football (61 metres, against South Korea in 2016) perfectly embodies the resilience that defines so many players on the team.

Equating the jersey with the regime overlooks the team’s long history, which pre-dates and transcends any particular government. It punishes dedicated players for circumstances beyond their control. More importantly, it squanders a precious opportunity for unity.

I am so pleased I woke up at 2am to watch the game live. It was my way of showing solidarity with fans inside Iran and inside the stadium who find joy and identity in their national team.