Sakhnin Diary / Loyalties, devotion and the fighting spirit
By Jerrold Kessel & Pierre Klochendler, Ha'aretz, September 20, 2004

NEWCASTLE - The joke about the fanatic Jewish soccer fan goes like this: "Rabbi, I've such a terrible dilemma. It's the biggest game of all time, I can't possibly miss it, but it's on Yom Kippur."

"No problem at all," says the rabbi, "in this day and age there are videos."

"Wow!" says the soccer nut, "you mean I can video Yom Kippur?"

Now the apocryphal story about St. James's Park, home to the fanatic faithful of Newcastle United. It's a packed house for a big game, only one empty seat in the 52,000 stadium. The question is buzzing around the empty seat alongside Fred.

"Who's seat is that?"

"It's my wife's," says Fred.

"Where is she?"

"She's dead."

"Couldn't you have brought one of your friends instead?"

"They couldn't come - they're all at the funeral."

It's the kind of soccer fervor matched only perhaps in central Galilee. Newcastle and Sakhnin - a draw in devotion to the game.

Newcastle is a city where soccer loyalty borders on religious devotion. St. James's Park is its temple, a place unleashing passion and power, where conviction and loyalty are put to the test.

Soccer demands total loyalty, denies dual loyalties. How much of a problem is this for Jews and Arabs abroad, or for Arab citizens in Israel?

Enter other kinds of devotions. A couple of Sakhnin's Jewish supporters have been dispatched on a mission to the local Orthodox synagogue to reap kosher food for central defender Avi Danan who is from a traditional family in Beit Shean.

The synagogue is not a place where one expects to launch into an unholy football argument. But Pat Rotham, the elderly secretary, is on the phone to her Shul chairman telling him about the Israelis in town. She's overheard "hoping this little club won't do a Hereford on us." That is, do a Sakhnin on them.

"Doing a Hereford," it emerges from subsequent conversations around this football-daft city of 1,500,000, is a codeword. Thirty odd years ago Hereford United, a little amateur club from the Welsh border, knocked mighty Newcastle United out of the FA Cup. The collective trauma hasn't subsided. Soccer is a place of long memories.

The black-and-white stripes of Newcastle haven't altered for a century. During this time, the Jewish community has faded from thousands to just 700. But their commitment to soccer is as fervently black-and-white as ever. Not a single one hopes, even in secret prayers, that the Israeli team might win. They stand united behind their United.

Rosh kickoff

Distinctly it has nothing to do with the fact that Sakhnin is not a "Jewish" team. Many have been genuinely moved by Jewish and Arab players united in Sakhnin. "It hasn't shifted my support," says John Josephs "but I am edging toward hoping for an honorable draw."

Shabbat games aren't a problem but many of Newcastle's Jewish fans are disturbed by the Rosh Hashana kick-off. For all their pure dedication to the "Magpies" they won't watch this game. "Has soccer become too big for its principles?" writes the foremost international soccer writer Rob Hughes of European soccer authorities forcing Maccabi Tel Aviv to play on the eve of the Festival.

In the Sakhnin camp, Avi Danan apart, no one seems unhappy. And, once his kosher food arrives the issue subsides. A feeling of well-being increases with some smart affirmative action. Club chairman Mazen Ghnaim has arranged for kiddush prior to the team meal.

Muslim players, along with the African and Brazilian contract players watch in wonder and join the blessings over apple and honey by Kenny Brozin, whose company, Nando's, is sponsoring Bnei Sakhnin. It's an abbreviated kiddush, Brozin confesses. He chose to elide over parts which he felt would highlight divisions between the Jews and non-Jews in the squad. The club has protected its minority very well.

Sheikh Abdul Nasser Habiballah, the young imam of Ein-Mahel village near Sakhnin, one of the team's most faithful fans, says this is "quite normal" in Islam - looking after the religious interests of other groups goes beyond respect.

"It's an obligation towards our minorities," says the Sheikh, drawing on teaching about how to handle the Dhimmi (religious minorities). He says that although he would very much welcome the chance to see religious observances of others he's never been invited to a synagogue.

So, this is a doubly revealing experience for these Israeli non-Jews - being part of Jewish tradition, and also as hosts - as the religious majority here, rather than back home where they are like guests of the majority religion.

After a chorus of Chag Semeachs and Shana Tovas follow the abbreviated - censored? - kiddush, Sakhnin's pragmatic chairman turns spiritual chieftain. Mazen's speech is also brief but equally moving: "We are all brothers. Our club is more than a club. It's a family." Several players, even one or two notorious as real tough guys on the field, have moist eyes.

Mazen later talks with equal ardor about "this majority-minority issue. We make far too much of it - whose land, who's the majority and who the minority in it. We have simply to accept one principle that we are all here (in Israel) together and the rights of all of us have to be addressed equally."

He feels keenly that these very practical demands for equal treatment and rights, if satisfactorily dealt with, will make identity problems fade away.

"Otherwise," he worries, "our young fellows might tend to become extreme." The kind of "young fellows" he talks of are not only those at home in Galilee but also two brothers, originally from Tira who now live in nearby Sunderland.

Pal Geordie

They've come to the team hotel, are welcomed with open arms and clearly feel at home. Kamel, the elder, has been here six years and is studying to be a chemist; the younger Hilal joined him a couple of years ago.

They refer to themselves as Palestinians but they already seem rooted in the north-east of England. Kamel sounds like a true Geordie (Newcastlite). Usually immigrants can't successfully assimilate an accent and anyway "Geordie" is unspeakable.

Could it be that Israeli Arabs are cut off from their roots so that once they leave their country they are curiously able to scotch their identity? Or is it simply that Kamel has an amazing ear?

Since taking off from Ben Gurion amid constant calls of "good luck" and "make sure to represent us well" Mazen Ghnaim hasn't stopped talking about his surprise and delight, especially that so many of the well-wishers were religious Jews.

But, who exactly is the "us" that they meant to be "representing"? The question resonates with Israelis in the Diaspora - Arabs and Jews - who want to soak up the Sakhnin experience so as to help them grapple with their own identity predicament.

"They won the Israeli cup; it's clear who they represent," a Jewish student, in England to master psychology, says with conviction.

"Nonsense," retorts Hilal, "they are playing for us as Palestinians." He warms to the argument. "Why is it that only now that they are successful that the Jews want to adopt them for themselves? Why don't they see us as part of them when we're just ordinary citizens?"

Kamel confesses he was never really much of a soccer fan at home but Sakhnin's victories have thrilled him and he wants to be part of the success. He's prepared to take the whole identity lock, stock and barrel. This is an Arab club, he stresses, but "Sakhnin play for Sakhnin" is a good enough equation for him.

Despite the current mood in Europe vis-a-vis outsiders, especially if they're Muslim and Arab, there's absolutely no sign that Newcastle has any problems with these soccer "others."

Quite the contrary - there's another strong dose of affirmative action, a sort of moral imperative to be the best of hosts. Is that because their visitors are from such a tiny impoverished club, such a minority club, or because they're Arabs, because they're Palestinians?

An optician who lives in small town near Newcastle has been drafted in to make Arabic announcements over the ground's loudspeaker system. He's from Nablus - "It seems Newcastle wanted a Palestinian voice, though I know nothing about soccer."

It shows. He gets the pronunciation of most of the Sakhnin names right but is woefully off key with Newcastle's local and French stars. Amid considerable media interest Al Jazeera is here too.

Estim Kritim, their reporter up from London, questions the Sakhnin players and officials over and over - "you talk of coexistence but is it possible while there is literally a war between Israel and the Palestinian people?"

Harbingers of harmony

At a news conference team captain Abbas Suan glides elegantly through the minefield. He says afterwards that he had a problem finding the right words in Arabic. "I should have replied in Hebrew" he adds disarmingly, "I'm used to handling such questions in Hebrew." Not too difficult to imagine what Al-Jazeera would make of his admission.

The native British media have other interests. Praise for the harbingers of harmony is their tune.

The Newcastle Journal: "In an age of over-paid, over-pampered and over-publicized players it is hard to imagine football making a positive contribution to a burning political issue. But when Newcastle kick-off against Israel's Arab-owned club Bnei Sakhnin this evening the Magpies will be playing their part in a match which holds more significance than just a mere football match would suggest."

Romanticizing the Sakhnin story, the Brits are counting on their visitors to play their part, a role so beloved by the English of foreigners, of the plucky underdog.

How rude can an awakening be? The extended roof over the stands behind the goals of St. James's Park resembles a whale opening up its giant mouth. But Sakhnin are not about to be swallowed up as Newcastle's minnows. With the religious supporters away in synagogue on this "Game of the New Year" there's probably not a soul at this encounter able to remind Mazen Ghnaim's "family" of the power of faith as reflected in the tale of Jonah's whale which Jews recount on Yom Kippur.

But they are imbued with their own belief - not to lie down, not to play the "gallant losers" role assigned to them in British sporting lore.

There's absolutely nothing gallant, or particularly noble, about the way Sakhnin scraps on the pitch. The harshness of their tackles has Newcastle coach Graeme Souness complaining "they came here with a recklessness to break the game up with tactics that went beyond football."

"You bet that's what we did!" a wink and nod from coach Eyal Lachman. "This is the Middle East." Mandate-time Middle East, maybe. In his pre-match dressing room preparations he reads his men an excerpt from a Churchill speech about dealing with the "Nazi jackboot." No aspersions intended on his opponents, but the message is clear - be tough, even cruel, to achieve moral ends. "I don't want anyone holding back tonight!"

Indeed, his players don't hold back, and the British castigate them for dirty tactics. "You don't survive by convincing anyone to like you," is coach Lachman's post-match conclusion. A sort of latter-day Jabotinsky-ite who is molding a pioneering Arab club for equal rights in the way that the first Israelis molded their "motherland."

Even the loss in Newcastle doesn't daunt them. Theirs is a challenge that is making a mark. And, it won't go quietly away.

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