Another Saturday

… in Doha

There is only so much time you can spend in the same hotel room before you begin to go crazy. At first, I could sit at the desk in my room, working peacefully, leaving my room only to eat at the breakfast buffet or visit the gym downstairs. After 10 days I would lay on my king sized bed glancing out at nighttime descending on the market across the road, searching the dark deep recesses of the mind asking myself who I am, and what I am doing here?

To break the routine, I started working at the coffee shop across the plaza from my hotel, drinking delicious but overpriced green tea latte’s. And yet this too became a routine. Two days ago when I entered the coffee shop, the barista smiled at me and said:

“You’re our regular.”

It’s even worse in the hotel. The entire staff at the front door and at the breakfast buffet know my name. Some of them even remember it from my previous two trips to Doha.

Yesterday I looked at the calendar. 18 days spent in the hotel, 23 more to go. It was time for me to go on a new adventure, no matter how mundane.

Fortunately, I had managed to make friends on Facebook with some members of the Arsenal Qatar supporters group. After a morning spent with green tea lattes, grading, and writing, I hoped on a train to travel to the north side of Doha where the club gathers to watch matches together.

Though I had talked to several of them online, I sat in corner not wanting to burst my way into the middle of the group. I was not alone, clearly several others preferred to watch on the fringes - enjoying, despairing, raising their arms in frustration at a missed pass.

Three minutes into the match a Bacardi shot was placed into my hand. A man confidentially held up a bottle.

“Every time we finish a bottle of Bacardi, we win the match!”

With that, I joined everyone in tossing down my shot as we watched Arsenal dominate possession against Everton who were sitting in a low defensive block. You could see the concern in the room. Dyche had just taken over as manager of Everton and had always caused problems for Arsenal when he was at Burnley. And we always have problems playing Everton, no matter how bad they are.

Scoreless at halftime, the bottle of Bacardi had barely been touched.

“We need to finish this bottle!” Came the cry from the bar. “I drank half a bottle when we beat United.”

I could not leave my fellow Gooners hanging. When he came by my table, rather than offer a shot glass, I offered a whisky glass so he could pour the equivalent of six shots for me. I did my duty and slammed it back.

Then Everton scored in the second half, the mood soured. Was this where it all fell apart? You could tell the others had been here before and were lost in the same thoughts as myself. I took another three or four shots, I had lost count at that point. It was my first alcohol in a month.

In the end, Arsenal couldn’t get a goal, and we lost the game. I kept starring at the bottle of Bacardi, still a quarter full of its reddish tinted liquor. I wondered if we had smashed down a few more shots if Arsenal would have scored the equalizer, maybe even a last minute winner?

A good 12 shots in my body, I promptly marched out of the bar at the full time whistle. My night wasn’t over.

Taking the Metro to the opposite side of Doha, I arrived at Jassim bin Hamad Stadium, a smaller 15,000 seat venue that is home of Al Sadd, perhaps Qatar’s top football club. But tonight’s match was between two other Qatar Stars League (QSL) clubs - Al Rayyan and Al Arabi.

I didn’t pay much attention when I bought my tickets, but I had selected the VIP section, which only cost 30QR, about $8.25. Compared to tickets in other countries, it was a bargain. I was directed to seats directly behind the Al Rayyan bench, which was great as I had come hoping to see Japanese national team defender Shogo Taniguchi who had just joined the club.

Not paying attention to who else was on the roster for both clubs, I soon picked out, Soufiane Boufal, Steven Nzonzi, and Aron Gunnarsson. As Nzonzi and Gunnarsson battles against each other to control the midfield, I was instantly transported back to 2013. It was like I was watching another one of the scoreless draws between Stoke and Cardiff all over again. All the match was missing was Peter Crouch missing a volley.

But tonight was going to be different. Al Rayyan despite quality in the middle of the pitch, were constantly picked apart on the wings. Al Arabi found the opener in the first half when Taniguchi was elbowed in the face and had to go off to get treatment and replace a contact. Al Arabi made it 2-0 early in the second half, and clearly were in control of the match. Al Rayyan had flashes of a few chances, a through ball from Taniguchi that ended up with the striker hitting the post, and another effort from the halfway line that beat the Al Arabi keeper who was out of his goal, but sailed wide of the post.

Then Al Arabi struck again from the wings, crossing an easy tap-in for Omar Al Somah to complete his hat trick. It was at this point that I realized that I happened to be sitting with the friends and family of Boufal and Nzonzi who were having a heated discussion in French about the quality of play. It was during this discourse that Nzonzi sent an Al Rayyan winger free on goal. The player rounded the keeper then took an extra touch, then another. Rather than shoot into the empty net he passed back into a mass of players who cleared the ball.

One of the family members threw up his hands in pure disgust. Although I do not speak French, it was very clear with his hand motions what he was saying.

“How do you not shoot there? What else can we do if they can’t score those?”

So there I was. For the price of a Chipotle burrito bowl, I was having a friendly discussion with the family of players I used to watch on television in the Premier League a decade ago.

It was surreal.