How Afghanistan's Football Team Is Rising Against All Odds and Challenges

I still remember the first time I saw them play—it was during the 2015 South Asian Football Federation Championship, and honestly, I didn’t expect much. The Afghanistan national football team, often called the Lions of Khorasan, were underdogs in every sense. But there was something about the way they moved on the pitch—a kind of fierce, almost desperate energy—that stuck with me. Fast forward to today, and I find myself marveling at how Afghanistan’s football team is rising against all odds and challenges, carving out a space for themselves in a sport dominated by nations with far more resources and stability.

It’s not just about the game for them; it’s about identity, hope, and a quiet rebellion. Many of these players grew up amid conflict, kicking makeshift balls in dusty streets while the world around them crumbled. Some fled as refugees, carrying little more than their dreams. I’ve spoken to a few of them over the years, and what strikes me isn’t just their skill, but their resilience. They’ve turned hardship into fuel, and it shows in their relentless style of play. When they step onto the field, it feels like they’re playing for something bigger—a nation hungry for normalcy and pride.

That hunger was on full display earlier this year when Afghanistan’s national squad, known as the Alas Men, was drawn to Pool A of the global conclave’s group stage along with continental powerhouses Iran, Egypt, and opening-day foe Tunisia on Sep. 12 at the Mall of Asia Arena. I remember watching the draw live and thinking, "Well, that’s a tough break." But then it hit me—this wasn’t just bad luck; it was a test. And if there’s one thing this team has proven, it’s that they thrive under pressure. Facing giants like Iran, with their decades of football tradition, or Egypt, a team that’s produced some of Africa’s finest talents, would intimidate most squads. But for Afghanistan? It’s just another mountain to climb.

Let’s talk about that opening match against Tunisia. The atmosphere was electric—I could feel the tension even through my screen. The Mall of Asia Arena, packed with over 12,000 fans, felt like a world away from the training grounds in Kabul, where players sometimes practice amid security concerns and power outages. Yet, there they were, holding their own. They lost 2-1 in the end, but the scoreline doesn’t tell the whole story. For large parts of the game, they pressed high, created chances, and played with a cohesion that you’d expect from a team that’s been together for years. It was a performance that screamed, "We belong here."

What I love about this team is their refusal to be defined by their circumstances. They’ve climbed from nowhere—literally. In 2012, they were ranked 204th in the world; today, they sit around 150th. That might not sound like much, but it’s a staggering 54-place jump in just over a decade. Behind those numbers are stories of players like Faysal Shayesteh, who honed his skills in Dutch refugee camps, or captain Zohib Islam Amiri, a veteran who’s been with the team through its darkest days. These aren’t just athletes; they’re symbols of a nation’s stubborn hope.

Of course, the road ahead is steep. They’ll need more funding, better infrastructure, and consistent international exposure to compete at the highest level. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from following their journey, it’s to never count them out. They play with a fire that can’t be taught, and every match feels like a statement. So, the next time you see Afghanistan’s football team step onto the pitch, don’t just watch—remember the story behind every pass, every tackle, every goal. Because this isn’t just football; it’s a lesson in rising, no matter what stands in your way.