“Bomb explodes;” “Hundreds killed;” “Mosques destroyed;” “Explosion in marketplace;” “Sectarian violence.” We’re all familiar with these headlines by now.

It has become somewhat of a norm, and truthfully, we’d all be lying if we said we weren’t becoming desensitized to the news. But for 72 minutes on the morning of July 29, Iraqis had an opportunity to make headlines of a different kind – ones people all across the world would be happy to read.

Can 72 minutes change the world? Can they end a civil war? Can they feed the countless left hungry and homeless by the war?

Of course not. But for 72 minutes that day, Iraqis were able to think about something other than war. For 72 minutes, the entire world existed between two goal posts separated by a hundred yards of green grass. And in that world, at least, all Iraqis were on the same team. Shi’a, Sunni and Kurdish didn’t exist – there was only Iraq.

And as that ball disappeared into the Saudi net in that 71st minute of play, the prayers of a nation, now dispersed throughout all four corners of the world, were finally answered. Demonstrations of a different kind were now spreading throughout the globe.

In Chicago, I was awoken by the sound of pounding on the ceiling, remembering only after some thought the entire building was populated by Iraqi immigrants. In my hometown of Sterling Heights, joyous Chaldeans and Assyrians filled the streets waving Iraqi flags and singing national songs.

And in the streets of Baghdad – where only the bravest dare go out at night – there was celebration. There would be no cars exploding. No screams of agony and despair. No gunfire signaling another sectarian clash. The only explosions were fireworks, the only screams joyous and the only gunfire celebratory.

And just like that, for one night, the Iraq of new felt and looked a lot like the Iraq of old.

A soccer game can’t melt religious or racial divides, end sectarian violence, or feed the hungry. But for 72 minutes, it did just that.

Chris Dawood
international relations senior