Hilal Nakiboglu: No place for religious criticism on the pitch

Calling myself an avid soccer fan would be misleading. Yet last summer, I came down with a mild form of World Cup fever.

To be sure, this was largely because teams I could associate with, namely the Turkish and American squads, out-performed even optimistic expectations. This was underdog athleticism at its finest.

It was almost reason enough for me to stay awake through an entire game.

What impressed me most about the glimpses of competition I caught had little to do with game mechanics or player skill, however. Rather, it was the selfless enthusiasm and sheer exuberance of the host countries' fans that drew me in.

Camera after camera captured the Korean and Japanese supporters in the stands, faces painted with national colors mirroring those of the uniforms on the green. Together they exalted in any demonstration of good form, waving flags, clad in various teams' jerseys. It was enough to make my heart swell.

How refreshing to see this encouragement of all teams, especially given the atmosphere in 1998.

That World Cup was defined for me by its bullish violence. Mixed in with media images of top players were scenes of belligerent English football fans in Marseille, France.

After the English won -- yes, won -- their first match against Tunisia, 400 England followers proceeded to pummel Tunisian fans, French youths and local police. Thirty-two people were left critically injured as a result of three consecutive days of hooligan violence.

Soccer hooliganism is by no means limited to or defined by the English. Sadly, no nation that takes its soccer seriously is immune to it. Given this, watching the World Cup last summer was encouraging. Could World Cup 2002 be remembered, especially in the wake of Sept. 11, as one of friendly, docile fans?

Apparently, the answer was yes.

Less than a year after the terrorist attacks left us all feeling angry and divided, here was a "world" cup which had created this near-tangible, wholesome sense of international cohesion and goodwill.

I remember one match in particular that contributed to this.

Teams Turkey and Korea were up against each other in a game to determine which would secure third place. When the Koreans were defeated, the Turkish captain, Hakan Sukur, lead an endearing tribute to the Korean team and supporters.

It began as a standard exchange of jerseys, but then continued with a spontaneous victory lap wherein Turkish and Korean players linked arms to form a long line and circumnavigated the field. There was appreciative bowing to the stands and a subsequent standing ovation delivered by the Korean fans to all players. It was the most poignant mark of solidarity I had seen the entire tournament and ended with public emotion from both sides including, not surprisingly, people in the stands.

This was what sportsmanship, indeed humanity, ought to be about.

Apparently not many members of the press agreed with me as few chose to address this gesture of unity. Some writers, including John Carlin of the British newspaper The Observer, decided instead to talk about something quite different: Islamic fundamentalism.

Yes, matters of the Turkish team's religious affiliation splashed their way onto the sports pages of The Observer, thanks to Carlin. "Fundamentalist factions," he decided, were behind Turkish coaches' decision not to invite players' girlfriends along to the Cup. Never mind that Brazil, for instance, had done the same, as a means to improve on-field performance.

According to Carlin, some undefined form of this "fundamentalism" had also prompted captain Sukur to pray with teammates in the privacy of his hotel pre-game. Forget that members of many other teams, whatever their religion, proudly prayed collectively on the sidelines and individually on field.

It disappointed me that in such a healing atmosphere of intercultural support, partially fostered by Sukur himself, the message being broadcast instead centered on something entirely tangential and largely unsubstantiated.

My quarrel with Carlin's piece, and others since, is the use of inflammatory language where it is clearly unnecessary. I might not have argued against references to "Orthodox Islamism" perhaps, but "fundamentalist factions?" In an article about soccer? This was just ridiculous.

I sent a note to John and his editors expressing this. Although I received no response personally, Carlin recently apologized in a publicly released statement. Nice, were it not for his opening comment: "I forgot that with certain religions you don't make jokes."

Apparently, calling people fundamentalists was meant to be funny.

Criticism of personal, innocent religious practice has no place on the pages, sports or otherwise, of any paper. It is easy for a casual reader to gloss over such subtle attempts at demonization. Carlin had a chance to focus on something precious here: sportsmanship and goodwill between peoples. Sadly, he chose to write about a sensitive and private matter instead -- religious belief.

Media bites like these will lead to a gradual perpetuation of cross-cultural misunderstanding and quite possibly ugly, painful repeats of history.

We need to stop it by speaking out against sloppy, discriminatory rhetoric in all its forms. Each one in the other's jersey, with arms linked.

Hilal Nakiboglu is a second-year doctoral student in Higher Education Management from Ankara, Turkey.

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