It feels like summer at Beirut's famous Sporting Beach Club.
A middle-aged woman emerges from the pool, wraps herself in a towel and makes her way to a sunbed strategically placed on a boulder facing Raouche's landmark Pigeon Rocks. A few steps behind her, four men take their usual spot. Two sit savouring the Mediterranean views and munching on carrots, while the other pair crouch over a backgammon board.
"Dawrak," one of them says, meaning "your turn".
His friend rolls the dice and stares intently at the board, carefully considering his next move. Their friend, a mere observer, chuckles as he takes a long draw from his cigar. "We've been coming here for more than 30 years," Fadel El Souri, 67, tells The National. "There's nowhere else we'd rather be".
His olive skin glistens in the sun, emphasising both his tan and his enduring attachment to one of Beirut’s oldest beach clubs – even in January. Rain or shine, Sporting has been a sanctuary for generations of Lebanese since it first opened in 1953, drawing a steady flow of visitors year-round. "Every single day, we finish work and we come here," Mr El Souri, a father and wood supplier, explains.
During warmer months, hundreds flock to the historic beach club in the heart of the capital for a swim and an unobstructed view of the sea. A day at Sporting is only ever complete with lunch, with options including a delectable taouk sandwich, a Lebanese burger on the go, or a plate of bizri – fresh mullet – brightened with a squeeze of lemon and paired with a soda.
In the afternoon, Sporting transforms into the perfect spot to enjoy sunset. Waves of orange and yellow paint the sky as the sun sinks below the horizon. On the beach club’s boulders, families and groups of friends perch on plastic chairs, facing the water and taking in the view. Peanuts, carrots and cold drinks keep them company.
All walks of life
Named after the Sporting club in Monte Carlo, Beirut’s version was founded by entrepreneur George Abou Nassar, who had just graduated from the American University of Beirut. "He was looking for a business venture, but one that he could enjoy and have a good time with, and that's how Sporting came to be," says his son and current owner, Walid Abou Nassar.
It became Beirut's first private beach club, an avant-garde concept back in the day. The only way to gain membership or guest access was through a recommendation from an existing member.
"My dad was very strict with the membership policy," says Mr Abou Nassar, who now runs the club with his brother Marwan and their cousin, Ralph Schray. "This made Sporting more alluring and it helped build a strong sense of community among the members."
From diplomats and politicians to artists and journalists, the Beirut club has welcomed people from all walks of life. Even during Lebanon’s 15-year civil war, Sporting braved on, providing visitors with a rare sense of calm and unity. "I think it's one of the few places in Lebanon that has never closed," says Mr Abou Nassar.
"Sporting was my dad's baby. It was me, my brother and our third sibling, Sporting," he adds with a chuckle. "My dad never left it or closed it. Even amid wars, threats from militias, foreign occupations and years of conflict, my dad protected it through it all."
Nowadays, locals, tourists and members of the Lebanese diaspora make their way to Sporting. The club now houses two large pools, a kids’ pool, an outdoor gym, a cafe, a seafood restaurant and a venue that hosts some of the capital's most iconic sunset-to-sunrise events.
"We want people to feel like they can be here day and night, have a great time and never get bored," Mr Abou Nassar says.
Nostalgic feeling
Despite its popularity, the beach club has retained a minimalist, understated setting. "Sporting is not about the luxury or bling bling – it's about a culture, a community and about feeling at home," he adds. "Our message to people is once you're ready for Sporting, Sporting is here for you."
It is this laid-back and welcoming atmosphere, captured perfectly in the beach club's furnishings, which ensures so many people come back. "I love that it's all authentic," Natasha Esta tells The National as she sits on a ledge with a friend, a backgammon board in their midst. "The people, the staff, the tawle [backgammon], the carrots in the plastic container, this is the simplicity we come for."
For Leen Lakkis, Sporting has authenticity "that can’t be designed or replicated". The visual storyteller, who recently moved back to Beirut from Paris, spends hours at the club, during the summer and winter.
"There's a strong nostalgic feeling to it, something familiar and grounding, just like home," she tells The National. "That authenticity is what keeps drawing me in and inspiring me."
Mr Abou Nassar believes Sporting is a microcosm of what Lebanon, a country of cultural and religious diversity where decades of conflict failed to extinguish its savoir-vivre, should be. “The culture, cohesion, unity, working together and welcoming of all people – this is the identity we want to reflect and uphold," he explains. "This is the hope we have for our country."
