Sixteen-year-old Mohammed Eyad Azzam remembers a time when he was a pampered child surrounded by the love of a full house. That life vanished on the morning of October 11, 2024, when an Israeli warplane struck his family’s multi-story building in the Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza. Mohammed was buried under the heavy rubble for ten long minutes, feeling the weight of the world crushing his young body. It was his grandmother who managed to dig him out of the wreckage. He woke up later in a neighbor’s house, breathing through a ventilator, only to find out he was the sole survivor of his immediate family. His parents and two older brothers were gone.
Overnight, the teenager was forced into the role of a provider, responsible for his elderly grandmother in the overcrowded Shati refugee camp. His days are now filled with the grueling labor of carrying heavy water containers and lighting fires for survival. Amidst the overwhelming grief and the physical demands of displaced life, Mohammed has found a singular psychological lifeline: football. Before the escalation of the conflict, he was a promising talent at the Khadamat Jabalia football club. Today, that club exists only in memory, its facilities destroyed and its once-vibrant pitches turned into craters or makeshift detention centers by invading forces.
The Palestinian Football Association (PFA) has recently taken the initiative to organize youth tournaments for players born in 2009, offering a rare sanctuary for children like Mohammed. For these young athletes, lacing up their boots is about more than just the sport; it is an escape from the boredom and despair that permeate life in northern Gaza. Mohammed explains that playing helps release the negative energy that builds up while living in a disaster zone. However, the emotional toll remains heavy. While other players have fathers and brothers cheering from the sidelines, Mohammed looks at an empty space, missing the family that used to be his primary source of motivation.
The destruction of the sports sector in Gaza is systemic and catastrophic. According to Mustafa Siyam, head of the PFA media department, the Israeli offensive has decimated the infrastructure that once nurtured Palestinian talent. The statistics provided by the PFA are chilling: 1,113 individuals affiliated with the sports sector have been killed over the last two and a half years, including more than 560 football players and coaches. Furthermore, 265 sports facilities have been severely damaged or completely leveled. Every single one of the 56 football clubs in the Gaza Strip has been affected, leaving a generation of athletes without a home for their passion.
Reaching the remaining pitches is a life-threatening ordeal in itself. With major stadiums bombed or converted into shelters for thousands of displaced families, the PFA is forced to hold games on just three small available patches of land, including the Palestine Stadium in Gaza City. Mohammed describes walking several kilometers through a labyrinth of tents and ruins to reach the field. The journey is psychologically and physically draining, often leaving the players exhausted before the match even begins. Yet, the love for the game and the need for a sense of normalcy drive them to make this dangerous trek every week.
Mohammed’s story is emblematic of tens of thousands of children in Gaza who have lost everything but their spirit. Football on the ruins of Gaza is not just a game; it is a profound act of resistance and a testament to the resilience of the Palestinian people. The sight of orphans dribbling through the dust of a destroyed camp sends a powerful message to the world that life, even in its most fragile state, refuses to be silenced. For Mohammed Eyad Azzam, every goal scored on these makeshift pitches is a tribute to the family he lost and a step toward a future where the sound of the whistle replaces the sound of the warplane.
