This article has printed in “Tejarat_e_Farda” magazine, Dated: Saturday, February 17, 2024.

https://www.tejaratefarda.com/fa/tiny/news-46335

Behind the Gates of Paradise

Why Can’t Iran Win the AFC Asian Cup?

Vahid Namazi, Journalist and Football Researcher

Three weeks have passed since yet another defeat. This time, what stings the most is the failure of all the big, renowned rivals to reach the semifinals of the AFC Asian Cup. We eliminated Japan ourselves, while South Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Australia fell victim to the ruthless nature of football and the courage and strategies of their opponents. Qatar has claimed the Asian crown for the second time, sparking a wave of both accurate and misguided comparisons that have taken over social media and become the talk of the town. The bitterness of defeat lingers, and though the intensity and outrage have subsided, as always, the easiest target for the wounded Iranian public is the head coach and his technical staff—just like every other time we’ve lost.

But Iranian football—regardless of who has been its head coach—has not won the Asian Cup for 48 years. After three consecutive Asian Cup victories in 1968 (Mahmoud Bayati), 1972 (Mohammad Ranjbar), and 1976 (Heshmat Mohajerani)—two of which (1968 and 1976) we hosted—Iran’s national team, under every kind of coach and philosophy, has crashed out in the sharp turn of the semifinals in 1980 (Hassan Habibi), 1984 (Nasser Ebrahimi), 1988 (Parviz Dehdari), 1996 (Mohammad Mayeli Kohan), 2004 (Branko Ivanković), 2019 (Carlos Queiroz), and most recently in 2023 (Amir Ghalenoei), which was postponed to 2024 in Qatar due to China’s cancellation of hosting amid the COVID-19 pandemic. Beyond that, Iranian football hasn’t reached the Olympics for over half a century, and no Iranian club has lifted the Asian club championship trophy in 32 years. Thus, opening the “domestic vs. foreign coach” debate seems to have been a grave mistake from the start, repeatedly diverting us from the core issue.

The Path Taken by Asia’s Champions
After Iran’s last Asian Cup triumph in 1976, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia (three times), Japan (four times), Iraq, Australia, and Qatar (twice) have all tasted victory. Aside from Australia, whose infrastructure and professional approach to sports mirror those of advanced nations, if we consider Saudi Arabia, Japan, and South Korea as Iran’s main rivals in Asian football, we must examine how the paths they’ve taken over the past four or five decades differ from ours, enabling them to succeed where we cannot.

After South Korea’s back-to-back Asian Cup wins in 1956 and 1960, they, like us, have not won the tournament again. However, the story of South Korea’s football development starkly contrasts with Iran’s. Iran has consistently entered the competition hoping to make up for past failures and grab the trophy, burning with the ambition to reach the World Cup and Olympics, while its football league has followed a haphazard, half-hearted approach. Meanwhile, South Korea, through investment and planning in grassroots, club, and national football, has effectively set itself apart from Asia. Two titles in the AFC U-17 Championship and nine in the AFC U-20 Championship (since 1978), ten consecutive World Cup appearances (peaking with a fourth-place finish in 2002, capitalizing brilliantly on co-hosting), eight Olympic appearances (including a bronze medal in 2012), and 11 AFC Champions League or Asian Club Championship titles (after Iran’s last club triumph by Pas in 1993) demonstrate their unwavering commitment to progress.

Japan, another direct rival of Iran in the Asian Cup, has similarly distanced itself from Asia, effectively playing in a different league alongside South Korea. Since 1978, Japanese football has secured four AFC U-17 Championships and one AFC U-20 Championship, won the Asian Cup in 1992 as hosts and three times thereafter, qualified for the World Cup seven times consecutively since 1998, appeared in the Olympics seven times (with two fourth-place finishes in 2012 and 2020), and seen its clubs claim the continental title six times.

Saudi Arabia, since 1978, has won the AFC U-17 Championship twice and the AFC U-20 Championship three times. Though they, too, haven’t won the Asian Cup in about 28 years after three titles in the 1980s and 1990s, they’ve qualified for the World Cup six times since 1994, reached the Olympics twice, and their major clubs, Al-Hilal and Al-Ittihad, have collectively won five AFC Champions League titles since 1993.

While Saudi Arabia and South Korea’s lack of recent Asian Cup titles might somewhat resemble Iran’s situation, their approach to club and grassroots football—and the results outlined above—reveals entirely different paths. Over the past 45 years, Iran has won the AFC U-17 Championship only once in 2008, never qualified for the Olympics, and hasn’t won the Asian Cup again.

Development Doesn’t Happen Overnight
There’s no doubt that Iran’s greatest asset over the past half-century has been its human capital. This asset has shone most brightly in individual, non-team sports, where Iranian athletes have achieved global and Olympic success over decades, largely due to this human potential. However, with the increasing integration of science and technology into sports, analyzing opponents’ every move, even the brilliance of Iranian heroes like Hassan Yazdani is becoming rarer and harder to sustain. The penetration of analytical science into sports and our failure to update our athletes’ skills have made championship success increasingly difficult for Iran’s raw talents.

In football, as the statistics painfully show, aside from a single AFC U-17 Championship in 2008, the trophy of victory has never landed on the shoulders of Iran’s national teams, and our talented human capital in football is largely wasted. But where does this problem stem from? How is it that Iran’s national team won three Asian Cups and two AFC Youth Championships and qualified for the Olympics within a mere 10-12 years, only for a long twilight to descend upon Iranian football? The answer lies in the fact that Iran’s football development in the 1970s was the result of investments and planning that bore fruit even into the early 1980s and beyond, with coaches trained in that environment. The country’s shift to a revolutionary state with altered ideals, followed by the heavy shadow of the Iran-Iraq War, sidelined much of the nation’s development programs. Sadly, even after the war ended and the era of reconstruction and reform began, there was no serious resolve to prioritize sports or recognize its importance, and that remains the case today.

Over the past half-century, in all of Iran’s development programs, sports have never held a prominent place. Unlike the rest of the world, Iran has never viewed sports as a significant factor in development. Nurturing talented human capital that could pave the way for the country’s progress in future decades has only been taken seriously in a few isolated, organization-specific programs (not nationwide or sports-focused). Infrastructure has not kept pace with population growth or societal expansion. Even after Iranian football turned “professional” in the early 2000s and embarked on a new path, the government’s approach has remained utilitarian and unprofessional. For entirely non-sporting reasons, football has never been allowed to function independently, which would enable revenue generation, internal development, and self-sustainability.

While football structures in developed or developing countries are based on non-government intervention and free-market economics, with clubs operating as publicly traded entities or private companies accountable to commercial systems and shareholders, Iran’s football finances are a crooked burden that never reaches its destination. Hardly a season passes without the fully state-owned “red and blue” clubs of the capital lamenting missing funds, budget deficits, and massive losses, always turning to their owner—the government—for support. Due to inefficient human resources, lack of planning, and the absence of time as a factor in programs, there’s practically no roadmap for revenue generation by the managers of these popular clubs. Industrial clubs tied to quasi-state entities spend lavishly, connected to the endless revenue streams of their parent organizations. Revenue creation in Iranian football is meaningless, and the industry resembles a monster that only devours public and private capital.

The situation is even bleaker at the grassroots and national youth levels. Per AFC regulations, league clubs must have youth teams and academies to contribute to football development alongside professional play. In practice, however, this requirement only leads to the formation of youth teams to avoid AFC sanctions, with talent scouting, generational development, and education from a young age largely ignored. How can clubs in the top-tier league, which lack standard stadiums or even dedicated training pitches, provide proper grass fields for their youth teams to learn football fundamentally? Football schools in Iran, notorious for financial and even ethical corruption, with scandals periodically making headlines, have become a haven for profiteers and rent-seekers who sell a foggy future to eager parents. National youth teams are worlds apart from the senior team in terms of facilities and budgets. While raw football talents emerge every few years from Iran’s cities and villages in the U-17 and U-20 national teams, there’s no comprehensive national program to support talent scouting, train young stars, or guide them toward professional football to secure the national team’s future. This is why the gap between Iranian football and its rivals continues to widen. How can a player who hasn’t learned football fundamentals from a young age execute advanced tactical instructions as an adult in the national team—even under a world-class coach—or avoid wasting the coach’s time correcting years of flawed fundamentals?

Meanwhile, our direct rivals, through comprehensive development policies, have moved beyond purely industrial or resource-based growth (South Korea and Japan) or reliance on natural resources (Saudi Arabia and, more recently, Qatar), embracing human and cultural development in the broadest sense. Interestingly, Japan and South Korea’s development model differs entirely from Saudi Arabia and Qatar’s, yet they’ve pursued and achieved their goals similarly. While Japan and South Korea’s progress toward comprehensive development came through moving away from state-controlled economies (and sports), embracing true privatization, enabling revenue generation in football, and supporting it as a lucrative industry, Saudi Arabia and Qatar have taken a fully “state-centric” and closed-loop approach (not unlike Iran’s policies) and succeeded.

Over the past decade, with the rise of Mohammed bin Salman’s vision in Saudi Arabia, the Public Investment Fund (PIF) has been a key tool for development, eliminating the country’s sloppy, tradition-bound bureaucracy to build a new Saudi Arabia resembling a “tech startup.” Capital market reforms, removing barriers to foreign investment, and privatizing state companies were among MBS’s initial steps. Under Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030, the PIF’s assets are projected to exceed $2 trillion by 2030, making it the world’s largest sovereign wealth fund with a mission to “activate and empower the private sector, generate global-level returns, localize new industries, and accelerate knowledge transfer.” Accordingly, Saudi rulers have prioritized cultural and sports development, recognizing that their football, with its rich history and fan base, has immense potential for transformation into a global force. Success could reshape the football landscape in West Asia and North Africa while tilting the scales in favor of a country long defined by tradition and single-product reliance. This is a path to diversify Saudi Arabia’s economy beyond oil and leverage “soft power” to build international credibility. Developing grassroots football while heavily investing in growing the Saudi Pro League with over $1 billion per season for contracts, transfers, and league development through the PIF is just the start of Saudi Arabia’s soft power project, helping MBS and his reforms achieve a key Vision 2030 goal: hosting the World Cup.

Closer by, Qatar’s rulers have pursued their grand development plan, the “Qatar National Vision 2030,” aiming to transform Qatar into a fully developed nation by 2030, with four pillars: environmental, economic, social, and human development. Sheikh Tamim, Qatar’s current emir, wrote in the plan’s preface: “Wise political leaders know the path their societies must take and balance the interests of current and future generations. The prosperity of our children and those yet to be born requires us to use our wealth wisely. Qatar must continue investing in its people so all can fully participate in economic, social, and political development…” Amid volatile oil prices and the need to move beyond hydrocarbons, Qatar built a “bridge of time” between past and future, leveraging its most valuable and cleanest resource—natural gas—to generate wealth and advance its four development pillars. Qatar, with the world’s third-largest natural gas reserves after Iran and Russia, is the largest exporter of liquefied natural gas (LNG), far ahead of Iran and Russia, providing the resources needed for its national vision.

A Profitable Factory: Qatar’s Aspire Academy
Using the wealth from multibillion-dollar natural gas extraction and refining projects, Qataris built a profitable human factory called the Aspire Academy. Established in 2004 as an independent, government-funded agency under the emir’s direct oversight, Aspire aims to develop Qatari athletes while providing secondary education. Its flagship programs include football development for ages 12-18, alongside track and field, fencing, squash, and table tennis. Aspire’s student-athletes train under top coaches and receive the best sports science and methodology education.

Located in the Aspire Zone at Khalifa International Stadium, the academy includes six outdoor football pitches, an indoor pitch, and a FIFA-approved stadium. Beyond talent development, Aspire has acquired sports clubs in Spain and Belgium, allowing graduates to compete in professional European environments. Partnerships with Leeds United in England and establishing a satellite academy in Senegal to recruit top African talents and grant citizenship to exceptional athletes are among its activities.

Aspire’s football program focuses on the long-term development of each student-athlete. It begins with nationwide talent scouting, identifying promising 5- to 8-year-olds and giving them opportunities to enter this professional environment. Until age 12, children can train at Aspire’s branches across Qatar. The most elite join Aspire at 12, turning professional. Their days start with breakfast before school classes, followed by morning training, lunch, afternoon classes, and evening training, fostering growth as both athletes and students.

In 2008, at Aspire’s first graduation ceremony, Moroccan 1500m Olympic champion Hicham El Guerrouj praised the academy, saying: “This academy was built to produce athletes like me and footballers like Ronaldinho. This dream is on the right track, but officials must know it takes time to achieve these goals. Yes, patience is key.”

Ten years after Aspire’s founding, Qatar’s U-19 football team, composed entirely of Aspire graduates, won the AFC U-19 Championship in 2014—Qatar’s first—and in 2019, with those same players, won the Asian Cup. Seventy percent of the 2019 championship team were Aspire graduates, including Saad Al-Sheeb, Bassam Al-Rawi, Abdelkarim Hassan, Tarek Salman, Akram Afif, and Almoez Ali. Aspire’s products extend beyond football: Mutaz Essa Barshim (2020 Olympic high jump champion), Abdullah Al-Tamimi (Qatar’s top squash player and world No. 18), and Ashraf Al-Saifi (youth world hammer throw champion) are among its many successes.

Badr Al-Hay, Aspire’s education and student affairs director since its inception, said: “Aspire was the realization of a dream, achieved through our graduates’ accomplishments. Though we faced many challenges initially, we developed a knowledge base that now guides our students to become champions on the field and succeed in the classroom.” This is how development happens: step by step, with a long-term plan, time, patience, wise budget allocation, and a big dream.

What Do People Say?
When I set out to write this piece, I asked my social media followers to contribute by answering, “Why can’t Iran win the Asian Cup?” The deep sorrow from the national team’s loss to Qatar and the shattered dream of winning the Asian Cup can be felt in their responses. If heeded and used to craft a mid-term plan, these opinions could slowly build a foundation for collective celebration one day:

• Lack of infrastructure and proper long-term planning in football
• Neglect of talent and failure to prioritize grassroots football
• Widespread mismanagement in Iranian football
• A pervasive loser’s mentality in society
• Interference of non-sporting, unprofessional factors in sports
• Appointment of political managers in the federation and clubs
• Lack of privatization in football and revenue from broadcasting rights
• Organized corruption in football and opportunities for illicit exploitation
• Deviation from meritocracy and sidelining of football experts
• Player dominance and clique culture in national and club football
• Overly defensive tactical philosophy in league and national teams
• Failure to mentally train players to control false emotions and overconfidence
• False self-belief, complacency with small successes, and lack of a championship mentality

We Lose to “Self-Inflicted Errors”
In sports like tennis and basketball, there’s a term for a player’s mistake: “unforced error.” This occurs when, for example, a tennis player, regardless of the opponent’s pressure, hits the ball out or into the net in an ideal situation due to their own error. Many top athletes, even with numerous major titles, experience unforced errors during their careers or as they near retirement. The story of Iranian football and sports is strikingly similar to these self-inflicted errors. Iran’s national team reaches the Asian Cup semifinals seven times but never makes the final. It doesn’t matter if the coach is the renowned Carlos Queiroz, the academic Branko Ivanković, or the Iranian Amir Ghalenoei. Whether under the centralized, greenhouse-like system of Queiroz’s 10-12-year tenure or the decentralized approach of numerous domestic and foreign coaches, Iran doesn’t win the Asian Cup and seems unlikely to do so.

We are trapped by the self-inflicted errors of poor planning and mismanagement. Efficiency, meritocracy, focus on grassroots football, strategies for structural development, and “leaving the past behind” are absent in Iranian football. When a national team coach, 17 years after his 2007 sacking, still recalls the “trauma” of his dismissal and cites 300 articles from 17 years ago aimed at tarnishing his reputation, it points to a deep flaw in Iranian football’s mindset. We’ve been raised to constantly seek scapegoats for our failures and lack of progress. This issue, to varying degrees, permeates not just sports and football but the entire managerial mindset of the country. Mid- and long-term plans have no place here; with every government change, programs shift entirely, past achievements are ignored, and today’s problems are blamed on yesterday’s managers. It’s as if each new leader thinks only of their own present and allies, takes what they can, and leaves.

That tiny Qatar wins the Asian Cup twice in a row, hosts a spectacular World Cup in between, that Saudi Arabia brings Ronaldo and Benzema to Riyadh and Jeddah and builds a state-of-the-art stadium in 90 days, that South Korea reaches the World Cup’s top four, and that Japan plans for a 2050 World Cup title—despite their direct link to financial resources—has little to do with money! Yes, little. We have that money too. We spend it, but wrongly. Because we haven’t learned—and haven’t wanted to learn—that to move beyond our past and overcome our memories of defeat, we must first overcome ourselves.