“What are you doing, Skhiri? What are you doing?”
Commentator Issam Chaouali was addressing his fellow countryman, midfielder Ellyes Skhiri, from the commentary box during Tunisia’s 5-1 defeat by Sweden in Mexico. Yet it was also the question on our lips in the early hours as we watched the 2026 Word Cup match in a packed Khalidiya coffee shop.
A few minutes later, Chaouali also uttered, albeit less frenziedly, the instructions we wanted to give the players.
“Shoot the ball,” he urged. “Ben Slimane, you normally shoot from there. Take the shot.”
This is why I love Arabic football commentary.
The Arabic commentator is often the loudest voice in the room, with a vibrato that hovers above even the noisiest household. There are none of the pregnant pauses or the notion of allowing the game to breathe associated with their, say, British counterparts.
Instead, he has the depth and dexterity to conjure the endless emotions of this beautiful and tortuous game. He, and at present this remains an almost exclusively male broadcasting domain, finds the words for the panic, irritation or hope that the rest of us can express only by flailing our fists at the screen.
The World Cup, which is running until July 19 across the US, Canada and Mexico and is streamed regionally on Tod by beIN, continues to be a gold mine of examples of this craft.
Many of the broadcaster’s biggest commentators have been assigned to cover their national teams or neighbouring Arab sides, so we can expect emotions to flow with the passion of a local derby.
During Egypt’s 3-1 victory over New Zealand, commentator Ali Mohamed Ali watched goalkeeper Mostafa Shobeir save a dangerous shot. “Shobeir, you lion,” he cried. “You lion! A very dangerous ball. Look at it again.”
Later, as star striker Mohamed Salah surged forward, Ali dropped the description and addressed him directly. “Mohamed Salah, this is your move. This is your move. Play it. This is your moment.”
Salah scored and the commentator captured the relief after more than an hour of frayed nerves. “We have Salah, so nothing frightens us,” Ali declared in his rapid Egyptian delivery. “This is beautiful. This is Egypt. Egypt can do it.”
That delirious style is matched by Moroccan commentator Jawad Badda who, during his side’s topsy-turvy 4-2 victory over Haiti, moved deftly from instruction to poetry.
A missed chance was met with disbelief and described as though the ball had a mind of its own. “No, no, no! This ball refuses to go in. It simply refuses to enter the net.”
When captain Achraf Hakimi scored, Badda’s delivery steadied, and carried the calm of someone who had been composed all along.
“The captain delivers when he is needed. Achraf Hakimi restores the balance. Achraf Hakimi puts Morocco back on the right path. He corrects the course. This is the path we want.”
With Morocco fighting their way back in front through Sofiane Rahimi’s goal, Badda delivered a near-soliloquy of praise.
“From the feet of an artist. Sofiane shows no mercy. When creativity speaks, Sofiane is its title,” he said. “The honour of a country, the pride of a nation and a spirit that knows no impossibility.”
North African commentary styles share the same energy, although some of the voices remain distinct.
The deep baritone and droll humour of Algerian commentator Hafid Derradji were especially effective in summing up the dour mood of Algeria’s 3-0 collapse to Argentina, courtesy of a Lionel Messi hat-trick.
“In my life, I have never seen Messi laugh and celebrate the way he is celebrating tonight,” he noted.
While Derradji mixed disappointment with wry admiration, Chaouali was gnashing his teeth during Tunisia’s defeat by Sweden. By the third goal, Chaouali had replaced well-meaning observations with potent indictments.
“This is the first time I have seen Tunisia like this,” he fumed. “We learnt nothing from our past defeats. We changed nothing, corrected nothing and fixed nothing.
“Some of these players are simply not at the required level. The coach played the team he wanted, chose the players he wanted and did everything his own way.”
The Tunisian coach, Sabri Lamouchi, was sacked the following day.
That anger is not the rage bait often associated with football bloggers online. It is genuine and forms part of the bond Arab viewers share with commentators.
While there is a risk that this style can become excessive or overly partisan, neutrality and accuracy matter only as much as a commentator’s ability to describe what his audience is feeling.
They are the great equaliser. Like us, they speak as though the players can hear them but, more importantly, articulate what every fan is already shouting.
