"They score, they each say their respective prayers, and then they're hugging each other." That line from Eboo Patel, president of Interfaith America, captures something real about this World Cup — something the match statistics won't tell you.
Across the tournament's squads, Christian and Muslim players are sharing dressing rooms, celebrating together, and being openly, visibly faithful in ways that would have been almost unthinkable in top-level European football a generation ago. That's not a soft story. It's a genuinely interesting one.
The players making faith visible
Mohamed Salah remains the most recognisable example. The Egypt forward prostrates himself after goals — a gesture so familiar now that Liverpool fans barely blink. What's less often cited: after he joined the club, researchers recorded a 50% drop in anti-Muslim tweets from fans. That's a measurable cultural shift driven by one footballer's consistency.
Spain's Lamine Yamal, 18 years old and already the most talked-about player at the tournament, is a practicing Muslim whose father is Moroccan. He made global headlines in May when he waved a Palestinian flag during Barcelona's title celebrations — a moment that drew criticism from Israel's defence minister and a raised eyebrow from Hansi Flick. At 18, he is navigating territory most senior players would sidestep entirely.
England's squad features two players whose faith has drawn specific attention. Djed Spence, a fullback with Tottenham, has been identified by the BBC as the first Muslim to represent the senior England team. "It's good to make history and hopefully inspire young kids around the world," he told the BBC. Marc Guéhi, son of a Christian minister and now playing for Manchester City, made headlines last season for writing religious messages on his shirt during a Premier League LGBTQ+ inclusion campaign — defying FA rules, escaping punishment, and sparking a debate that went well beyond football.
Croatia's Luka Modrić, 40 and playing his fifth World Cup, gathered with teammates to celebrate Mass before travelling to the United States. His shin guards depict Jesus and the Virgin Mary. Five World Cups in, he is still making his faith part of the story.
- Christian Pulisic (USA) — leads team Bible studies, regularly posts scripture on social media, wears a cross given by his mother.
- Yasin Ayari (Sweden) — prostrated himself on the pitch after scoring against Tunisia, his father's homeland. He scored twice in the win.
- Aimar Sher (Iraq) — a Christian playing for a country whose Christian population has fallen from 1.5 million in 2003 to around 150,000 today. He posts photos in an "I Belong to Jesus" shirt without apology.
What it means beyond the symbolism
The Western European teams in particular represent a notable shift. France, England, and Spain have all experienced sharp political debate over Muslim immigration. Their national squads — Catholic, Protestant, and Muslim players training and competing as a unit — exist in direct tension with that discourse. Whether that registers beyond football circles is another question, but the contrast is hard to ignore.
Patel frames it well: "It's not a contrived television ad or a condescending afterschool special. It's the way you build an excellent soccer team." That's the part worth taking seriously. These squads aren't unified despite their differences. They're functioning because players bring their full identities — faith included — and still pull in the same direction.
Iraq's World Cup roster includes Kurds, Sunni Muslims, Shia Muslims, and Christians. That is, by any measure, a more complex coalition than most of their opponents are managing politically at home right now.
