My father always told me that there was a pitch in Lifta where people played football. He was born after 1948, so every story he tells is one heard from his father, mother or older sibling. He thinks it's near الشيخ جراح /Sheikh Jarrah. I believe there was a pitch in Lifta. I know it because my family loves football.
I also believe it, because football in Palestine, to the extent that it is documented, is over 110 years old. Thanks to a historian named Issam Khalidi, we learn this from a daily paper, Filastin, which began back in 1911. The earliest football team to be documented was in 1908, which was not formalized until the late 1920s. In 1924, Filastin followed the news of another footfall team, the Orthodox Club in Jaffa. According to Khalidi, there were approximately 65 athletic clubs, and we can assume that many of these clubs were oriented around football given its popularity.
At Lifta Club, we’ve shared some research and content about football in the archives. We thought we would continue to add to this as we learn, because after all this is a club, a community, and a place to share about the places and the people that inspire us, root us and teach us. Ironically, it is these very places, ideas, and lives we also find ourselves mourning. Over the past two years alone, we’ve lost more than 400 Palestinian footballers. The most recent was Suleiman Al-Obeid, a beloved striker from Gaza, murdered while waiting in line for humanitarian aid.
Like most other things, documents have been confiscated, erased, or stolen and perhaps placed in locked vaults far from Palestinian eyes (or anyone else) to see. We are left picking up the pieces and trying to put the stories back together, a fragmentated timeline that is ultimately the cumulative lives of our ancestors. I am endlessly grateful for the journalists, archivists, artists, and researchers, humans that document Palestinian life–past and present–as we envision a future that is free. Every time I hit a wall with something I am trying to learn or find about Palestine, again I find a clue or a thread from people that teach me more than I could possibly hope.
One of the things Khalidi urges us to remember is the necessity for Palestinians to tell our own stories. In the case of Al Obeid, that need has never been more urgent. Despite UEFA’s hollow, two-sentence tweet, we know who Al Obeid truly was. He was not just a player. He was a husband, a father of five, a son, a sibling, a man who continued to play football even after his home was bombed, leaving him and his family displaced and unhoused. That brutal reality alone should shake the world. And yet, I’m not sure how—or if—the world will ever reckon with it. Al Obeid’s skill on the pitch was exceptional, with many likening him to the legends Pelé and Thierry Henry. But for those who played beside him, his presence went far beyond talent. “Obeid wasn’t just a friend and teammate on the national team,” said Mohammad Abu Aita, a former Palestinian international and now a trainer. “He was one of the most talented and ambitious players I’ve ever known.” His wife had pleaded with him to stop going to the aid trucks, fully aware of the deadly risk. She told him, bluntly and heartbreakingly: “We can survive without food. But we can’t survive without you.” Obeid’s legacy is not just his skill—it’s the spirit he carried, and the hope he inspired in others. As one friend put it, “He had a beautiful soul and was a role model for young athletes.”
As we know, football in Palestine predates the Nakba and so does the ongoing effort to erase it. Yet the real threat, in the eyes of those who seek to silence it, is not just the sport itself, but the pride, resistance, and collective consciousness that come with playing football in Palestine, for Palestine, or in solidarity with Palestine. During the most recent World Cup, millions watched Morocco’s historic and inspirational run to the semifinals. Fans didn’t just cheer them on for their achievements—they embraced them as the “unofficial Palestine team,” as fans sang for Palestine in stadiums and fan zones. In 2024, when Spain lifted the Euro trophy, Palestinian flags were raised high in cities like Madrid and Málaga, with crowds chanting “Free Palestine” Ultras around the world have long made their stance clear. The Green Brigade, Celtic’s ultras group, has become known for its unwavering and visible support for Palestine, regularly facing UEFA sanctions as a result. At Paris Saint-Germain, the Collectif Ultras Paris have also used their platform to show solidarity through banners, tifos, and chants.
Khalidi’s research illustrates how, with the rise of Zionism, there were deliberate efforts to establish explicitly non-Arab teams and exclude Palestinian players. I know I am stating the obvious, but football has always been political, and in this context, it became a tool for asserting legitimacy—despite the fact that Palestinians were already playing the sport. Under the British Mandate, Zionist institutions quickly formed teams and funneled resources into football to gain international recognition, all while obstructing Palestinian efforts to organize or participate.
This practice of discrimination or exclusion in sports is historically familiar even if factually and contextually differing. One of the earliest protests in the US was a sit down strike at NYU in 1940, when NYU acquiesced to the mandated exclusion of a black football player ahead of game with a still segregated University of Missouri, part of the Jim Crow south.
In apartheid South Africa, systemic discrimination in sports meant that Black athletes were denied funding, facilities, and participation opportunities. Resources were reserved for white athletes, and international institutions like FIFA and the International Olympic Committee (IOC) either complied with or ignored this reality. It was only after sustained global anti-apartheid activism and boycotts that meaningful sanctions were imposed.
Early efforts in Palestine predated the now more widely recognized and institutionally supported teams such as Tel Aviv Maccabi FC and the Beitar team in 1936, the latter closely and notoriously associated with the far-right Likud party. The Palestine Football Association (PFA) was established in 1928 and the players consisted of majority Jewish players despite the Arab population. It gained FIFA recognition in 1929. Contextually, tensions had been rising under British Mandate which led to an uprising in Jerusalem in August 1929. Also, the very year my grandfather was born in Jerusalem and the year our family was first displaced because their home was burned down, forcing them to move to Lifta as a consequence, therefore beginning our Lifta story.
Palestinians have persevered and pushed for recognition on the global stage in more recent times. The simple act of being recognized by FIFA in 1998 remains a moment of pride—and yet this is the same institution that facilitates and authorizes matches in settlements built on stolen Palestinian land in the West Bank, and the same one that, two years into a genocide, has yet to ban Israel despite global outcry. But FIFA is not alone. UEFA, the International Olympic Committee, World Athletics, and World Aquatics have all followed suit, ignoring the overwhelming evidence and global demands for accountability.
Ironically, these same institutions swiftly banned Russia from global competitions over its invasion of Ukraine. Russian players were barred from national teams, and even tennis players were forced to compete as “neutral” athletes with no flags, no anthems, no national identity.
The path for footballers is a reflection of the Palestinian trajectory: first under British Mandate occupation and then under Israeli occupation. Even before October 7, Gaza existed under siege, functioning as a prison, and yet, football in many ways flourished under these conditions, with 58 athletic clubs in operation. Footballers have endured the worst: checkpoints, arrests, visa bans, play bans (including Gaza players prohibited from competing in the West Bank), the disabling of thousands, and the literal killing of hundreds. And still, we have victories. Palestine’s national team advanced deep into the World Cup 2026 qualifiers, ultimately falling short due to a controversial penalty. In 2025, the women’s national under-20 team claimed its first international title, winning the WAFF U-20 Girls Championship. There is so much to write about football and Palestine, and we will, but at this moment it is hard to see beyond the erasure and devastation. This is an attempt to bear witness.
At Lifta Club, we’re directing our efforts and energy into supporting the work of Lajee Celtic, a grassroots creative and cultural organization that supports Palestinian rights and the struggle for justice. I invite you to spend time learning about the work of this incredible organization. All proceeds from our current jersey drop go to Lajee Celtic, funding sport and creative recreational activities for Palestinians in Aida Refugee camp.
