Although Ahli beat South Africa's Orlando Pirates to win the African Champions League for a record eighth time, the big news of last week's football game was not just the result. At home and abroad a heated debate has ensued, overshadowing the continental crown itself: the freedom of expression, or in other words -- and specifically in Egypt these days -- the right to do whatever you want, wherever and whenever you want. There is also the related question of whether such freedom should extend to the playing fields where sports and politics are always a combustible mix. It began with Ahmed Abdel-Zaher of Egypt's Ahli celebrating his insurance goal with a four-fingered hand signal, the gesture that was produced by the sit-in of supporters of felled Islamist president Mohamed Morsi and whose 47-day gathering in Cairo's Rabaa Al-Adawiya was cleared by security forces in August. Hundreds were reportedly killed. The second incident came after the game, in the awards ceremony, when Ahli's star player Mohamed Abu-Treika refused to pick up his victory medal, reportedly because it was being presented by a minister of the current government which the footballer believes is illegitimate after it replaced that of Morsi. To make it a troika of defiance, earlier this month, Mohamed Youssef an Egyptian kung fu player was banned for one year after wearing a Rabaa sign T-shirt in a tournament in Russia. These activist actions on the field and on the mat have dented the Egyptian government's efforts to show that the country has put its political crises behind it and highlighted the deep fissures between supporters and opponents of the military, now in power, and the Muslim Brotherhood, now out of it. They also dragged politics into sport for the zillionth time. The two should never be mixed because it is always felt that politics and sport do not go together. But so often they do. Like it or not, the sports world is strewn with political interventions, many of them coming in the biggest sports spectacle of them all, the Olympics. We saw in 1968 in Mexico John Carlos and Tommy Smith standing on the podium, black gloves encasing clinched fists raised high in support of the black civil rights movement. The massacre of 11 Israeli athletes by PLO gunmen defined the 1972 Munich Olympics. African countries, including Egypt, boycotted the 1976 Montreal Olympics in protest against South Africa and its apartheid policies. Then came the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and President Jimmy Carter's decision that the US boycotts the 1980 Moscow Olympics, along with around 75 allied countries. What followed was a reciprocal tit-for-tat Soviet boycott and those of its satellite states of the 1984 Los Angeles Games. Of course, the forced entry of politics into sports is not just a sentiment shared by many as being wrong; it is also against the rules. FIFA rules state that neither politics, religion nor racism should have anything to do with football and has taken many measures to ensure the rule is obeyed. In March 2013, Giorgos Katidis, who plays for Greek AEK Athens, was banned from his country's national team for life after making a Nazi salute after he scored a goal. In January 2009 Frederic Kanoute was hit with a €3,000 fine for showing a solidarity sign with Palestine after scoring with Spain's Seville. In 2008, the same Abu-Treika received a yellow card for protesting against Israel, showing “Sympathise with Gaza” under his jersey after scoring against Sudan in the 2008 African Cup of Nations. That incident triggered a firestorm of debate in favour for and against the exposure, not of a T-shirt but of political expression in sport. The T-shirt incident was five years ago when the Israeli blitzkrieg on Gaza, infamously known as Operation Cast Lead, left 1,500 Palestinians dead in three weeks. Surely, the African referee who penalised Abu-Treika had nothing against Gaza or the Palestinians in general but was simply applying the rules. We all wanted and still want to play whatever part we can to help not just Gazans but all Palestinians suffering a brutal, monstrous occupation. But FIFA was understandably concerned that Abu-Treika's jersey lift would open a Pandora's Box. If Abu-Treika had been allowed to get away with it, soon you would have footballers stripping off their jerseys to display protests at the situation in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Lebanon and in Egypt, no matter how righteous the cause. The football field will soon turn into a political minefield and soccer will no longer be the main issue. As such, FIFA does not allow anything to be displayed stronger than a “Hi Mom” sign. If Abu-Treika or any other soccer player would like to express a certain political opinion, FIFA believes he or she can always talk to the press or appear on any number of TV talk shows. Abu-Treika's position is that of a striker – somebody who scores goals – not on strike on the football field. Which is why, even though Abu-Treika is a legend, an icon, a talisman -- use any adjective you wish to describe him and you will be correct -- he should be taken to task for not appearing for his medal. He is a role model for millions of fans, especially youths, and role models do not refuse to show up to receive a medal because they do not recognise the government that is in power. Even though Abu-Treika has not spelt it out publically, we know this is what he thinks because he is on record in August as having verbally confronted an army officer detailed to protect the team, asking: “Are you bringing the army which is killing the people to protect us?” Abu-Treika also appeared on the field after the Orlando match wearing a shirt bearing the number 72, referring to the number of Ahli fans who died in the Port Said soccer riot in a league game last year. While Abu-Treika, who was slapped with a LE50,000 fine for missing the medals ceremony, might not believe in the legitimacy of the present government, he was most certainly a big believer in the Hosni Mubarak regime that was toppled by the tidal wave of widespread popular discontent because of, among many other things, massive corruption. He hobnobbed with the ex-president's sons Gamal and Alaa who are currently in jail on financial irregularities that surely dwarf the practices of any official in the incumbent government that Abu-Treika shows disdain for. Furthermore, the medals presented were not a personal gift from Sports Minister Taher Abu-Zeid. They were medals given by the African federation; Abu-Zeid was simply the deliverer, the distributor. At 35, Abu-Treika says he will hang up his boots at next month's Club World Cup in Morocco. But he risks being remembered not just for his prowess as a player but as a troublemaker, much like Zinedine Zidan, one of the best players in history but who will never be able to shake off the image of his World Cup headbutt in the last game of his illustrious career. As for Abdel-Zaher, his career has fast come unglued. Even though he apologised, citing his “solidarity with the victims of the Rabaa clearance from both sides”, it was too late. Ahli placed him on the transfer list and decided to ban him from playing in the Club World Cup. Moreover, the 28-year-old has been prevented from receiving his bonus following the Champions League triumph. The punishments laid on Abdel-Zaher are justified. There were 30,000 in the Arab Contractors Stadium on Sunday, most of them Ahli Ultras spectators who never forgot their 74 dead comrades. It was also the first time since that tragedy that such a large number of fans in Egypt were allowed to watch a match live. Suppose the Rabaa sign had galvanised Ultras fans who are Brotherhood supporters and by extension opponents of the army and the police? A seismic clash in the stadium might have caused another Port Said calamity. It is perhaps not so coincidental that the two Ahli players who scored against Orlando are Brotherhood sympathisers. The majority of Egypt's footballers come from modest origins rooted in religion and who lack a good education, all elements that produce breeding grounds for zealous followers. That should not be necessarily problematic, however. Even though the political Rabaa gesture is unwelcomed by the Egyptian government following Morsi's ouster four months ago, any citizen of the state who is of good standing should be able to say out loud which side of the political fence he is on without fear of reprisals or persecution. That is the true meaning of free expression. As long as you refrain from inciting violence or tarnishing the reputation of others, and your dialogue is conducted with a civil tongue, say what you want. Instead of snide remarks and childish behaviour unbecoming of stars, point the political compass to where you stand. Don't reduce your political affiliations to flashing fingers or refusing to shake hands. These petty actions will not bring back the dead or bring the Brotherhood back to power. Say what you want but not wherever you want. Off the field neither Abu-Treika nor Abdel-Zaher ever expressed their political opinions. So why do so on the field where it's clearly not the right place and the setting is obviously unnatural? One must admire Abu-Treika's steadfast convictions and respect him for the loyalties he shows so strongly. But, he, too, should show respect. On the field, even a superstar should show some decorum. Article 14 of the FIFA code of ethics underlines “political neutrality”. Yet there is no standard on how to punish violations. Each is left onto his own. What is asked of our sports men and women, at this time of extreme polarisation in Egyptian society brought on by the forced removal of two sitting presidents in three years, is to keep sports and politics apart, and to be put instead in their respective places. Leave politics at the stadium gate. Don't play politics. Play sports.
