DEARBORN, Mich. — On a sweltering evening at a domed soccer field in the Detroit suburbs, the passion for the game is unmistakable. Zee Esho watches a local Iraqi Chaldean league opener where tempers flare and a goalie’s shout sounds like the stakes are huge. For him and many in the area, those stakes are real: Iraq has qualified for the FIFA World Cup for the first time since 1986.
The national team, nicknamed the Lions of Mesopotamia, ends a 40-year absence that left whole generations of Iraqi families never having seen their team on football’s biggest stage. For the large Iraqi diaspora in southeast Michigan, the qualification has become a cause for celebration and a rare unifying moment across ethnic and religious lines.
“When they play, you have people from the South, from the North, from the West, from the East, all gathering together to watch the game,” says Esho, who emigrated from Iraq to Michigan as a child. The qualifier’s victory has electrified Dearborn and nearby communities, bringing neighbors together in living rooms, restaurants and at youth practices.
Scenes of celebration have also played out in Baghdad and across Iraq. Players paraded through streets amid cheering crowds; images from early April showed members of the national team on a double-decker bus in central Baghdad as fans celebrated their spot in the 2026 tournament.
Back in Michigan, the buzz is visible at small businesses that have long served the area’s soccer fans. Waad Sana, owner of Soccer World in Rochester Hills, recalls watching Iraq play in Mexico in 1986 — an experience that inspired him to open his shop. Sana, who migrated to the U.S. in 1976, remembers a time when finding soccer gear meant explaining what “football” meant to store clerks.
Now, demand has surged. Sana says his store is getting roughly 100 calls a day asking for Iraq national team jerseys; there’s even a waitlist. The sudden rush is a reminder of how a single sporting achievement can revive memories and stir new pride.
Locally, the excitement extends to youth soccer. Abbas Alwishah, director of Michigan FC, runs a club that draws children from diverse immigrant communities around Detroit. He says even very young kids already know the Iraqi team is in the World Cup; for them, the tournament is tied to family and heritage.
“Their parents watch it, and they hear about it in the community,” Alwishah says as his middle-school players run drills under the hot sun. He notes how the World Cup gives youngsters a shared tradition to celebrate.
Fans outside the Iraqi community have also thrown their support behind the team. Sixteen-year-old Fatima Alzahraa Yazdchi, originally from Kuwait, says she’ll be cheering for Iraq during the tournament and plans to watch matches with her father, who taught her much of her soccer skill. “Gotta see them win!” she says with a grin before returning to practice.
Iraq drew a challenging group for the World Cup, facing Norway, Senegal and France — a lineup some have already labeled a “Group of Death.” Still, many fans focus less on the odds than on what qualification itself means. “If they win one game — one game — Iraq fans will go crazy,” Esho says, underscoring how a single victory would trigger nationwide jubilation.
In stores, on fields, and in family living rooms, there’s more than fandom at work. For many, Iraq’s return to the World Cup is a rare, unifying moment that transcends politics and past divisions. Sana, the shop owner, says seeing the passion and love rekindled after four decades gives him “goosebumps.” He’s even teaching children some of the old Iraqi chants, passing along cultural touchstones that might otherwise fade.
At every level — from the streets of Baghdad to suburban practices in Michigan — the World Cup has become a milestone. Whether Iraq advances far or not, the tournament marks a meaningful return to a stage where the team’s presence matters as much as its results. For fans who waited 40 years, simply being there is a victory.