Sports is not a luxury… it's life

It wasn’t an escape, nor a break. He wasn’t fleeing. He was on his way to represent a country in flames. The Lebanese football player, just like any other individual in this nation, lived through fear, displacement, and loss. But the only difference was that he had to keep going — to wear the national jersey, step onto the pitch, run, and score as if nothing had happened. Amid all this, the media was busy with breaking news, casualty numbers, and nonstop political analyses.

But where was football? Where were the voices of the players? The stories of the clubs? Where was the image of a homeland resisting from the heart of the football field? 

We are not trying to sugarcoat war or diminish its tragedy, but in the darkest of times. perhaps the media should have kept a small window open just enough for a bit of light to pass through.

To report a small story about a player who left under shelling, or a club that insisted on continuing its journey despite the pain. To remind us that sports are not a luxury, but life, to tell us that someone chose to run for Lebanon when there was barely anything left to run for. Some sports journalists despite the difficulty in accessing information, the loss of contact with sources, and the full focus of media institutions on political and security news tried to write.

But what they wrote never made it to the front pages, nor was it promoted on institutional platforms. Their coverage remained on the margins, just like it always had — a result of institutional neglect. And that’s exactly what sports journalist Hassan Sharara described when speaking about the situation of many Lebanese sports journalists.

The media has another role no less important than documenting massacres and explosions. In times of collapse, it becomes almost exceptional to keep life visible. To remind people, even with the smallest story, that someone is still playing not because they’re unaware of death, but because they’re resisting it in another language. The player who left the pitch, got displaced, then left his family behind to return and wear the national jersey he is no less heroic than a volunteer or a photojournalist on the frontlines. When the media ignores these faces, it doesn’t just deny them recognition it cuts a fragile thread that could have tied people to their dignity and dreams, even if just for a moment."

Sports Journalism Was Marginalized Before the War… So What Ab​out After?

In war, journalism doesn’t just report “what’s happening” ,  it helps shape memory. In our memory, when the history of this country is told, we will ask: where was sports media when Lebanon’s national team played under the bombing? Who wrote about a club that defied the explosions to complete the league? Who carried the voice of the player who left his family to raise his country’s flag beyond the borders? The absence of these stories from the screen and the newspaper doesn’t mean they didn’t happen , it simply means we weren’t present enough to tell them the way they should’ve been told. But perhaps the more important question isn’t: “Why was sports journalism absent during the war?” but rather: “Was it ever truly present before it?” 

The truth is, sports journalism in Lebanon has never been in a strong position. Its voice is faint. Its resources are limited. And the attention it gets from major media institutions rarely goes beyond surface level reporting , recycled transfer news, match scores, and generic headlines.   No in-depth investigations, No human centered storytelling, No serious files opened. As if sports in Lebanon were just light entertainment , not worthy of real journalistic effort. And that’s exactly what sports journalist Salim Nasser confirmed.