"They're not the national team, they're the Islamic government's team." That's the mood in Los Angeles ahead of Iran's World Cup group-stage game, and it's going to make for one of the most politically charged atmospheres in the tournament's history.
The Iranian diaspora in Los Angeles — the largest concentration of ethnic Iranians outside Iran itself — is mobilising. Organiser Sid Mohasseb, 65, says his coalition is chartering buses from across California and is hoping to pack 40,000 to 50,000 protesters around SoFi Stadium for Monday's match. He says he cannot "sleep because of the atrocities" Iranians inside the country are facing.
What happens inside the stadium is the real question
FIFA prohibits accessories of a "political nature" inside stadiums. But enforcement has always been uneven, and some ticket-holding protesters have already found their workaround: T-shirts printed with the pre-revolution Lion and Sun flag, worn under other clothing and revealed once they're inside.
"What can FIFA really do about this?" asked Iman Foroutan, an activist from Orange County. "Are they going to stop the game and kick everybody out?"
Iranian Sports Minister Ahmad Donyamali has already warned that if FIFA's code is violated, "the team official will certainly have a duty to stop the match." Whether any official would actually pull that trigger in front of a global audience is another matter entirely. But the threat alone adds a layer of chaos Iran's squad simply doesn't need.
The national anthem will be a flashpoint. It was booed by sections of the crowd at the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, months after the Mahsa Amini protests and the government's violent response. The anger hasn't faded — it's been compounded. A January crackdown on another popular uprising reportedly left thousands dead.
A camp in Tijuana and visas denied
The political turbulence didn't start with the draw. The US and Israel launched military action against Iran in late February, making this the first World Cup in history where a host nation is at war with a qualified team. Iran's planned training base in Tucson, Arizona was cancelled at short notice. They've been working out of Tijuana instead, just across the Mexican border.
US officials granted visas to the players but denied entry to more than a dozen support staff for the American group-stage fixtures. Donald Trump publicly said the team was "welcome" in one post, then suggested they stay away for "their own life and safety" in another. Standard diplomatic messaging it was not.
Ali Eslami, an Iranian-American living in Tijuana, put it plainly: "The atmosphere is not going to be good. Every Iranian knows it, the team knows it too." The 70-year-old added: "I feel bad for the players because they shouldn't be really playing in that kind of atmosphere. If I were in that situation, honestly, I couldn't function."
Anyone backing Iran on the match odds should probably factor in that their squad has been training in a different country, is missing key staff, and is about to play in a stadium surrounded by tens of thousands of people who despise the government they represent. That's not a normal pre-match environment.
"Whether they lose or win, we don't care," said one protest organiser. For the players, that might be the hardest line of all to absorb.
