"Nobody likes to see their country under bombing. It's very complicated for our people." Ehsan Shafi said that after a Sunday morning kickaround in Woodland Hills. He still has his tickets to see Iran at the World Cup. Not everyone in his team does.
When Team Melli open their 2026 campaign against New Zealand in Los Angeles on June 15, they'll do so in front of the world's largest Iranian diaspora — a community that is deeply, sometimes painfully, divided over whether to show up at all. Shafi, 46, is going. His Arya FC teammate Shawn Rezaei, 59, is boycotting. Between those two positions sits just about every shade of feeling imaginable.
A community that can't agree on what this team represents
Rezaei has been to World Cups in Germany, Brazil, Russia, and Qatar. This one, playing out in his own backyard, he's skipping. "This team is not representing the nation," he said. "They are basically a propaganda proxy for the regime." That's not a fringe view in Tehrangeles — it's one half of a very real argument playing out across the diaspora right now.
The backdrop is grimmer than any World Cup has faced in recent memory. The ongoing U.S.-Israeli bombing campaign against Iran has layered political anguish onto what should be a rare sporting celebration. Iranian-Americans who spoke to Reuters cited fears about family members still in Iran, concerns over immigration enforcement at matches, and anxiety that games could become flashpoints for protests.
Then there's the question of the players themselves. At Qatar 2022, several refused to sing the national anthem before their opener — a quiet but unmistakable act of solidarity with anti-government protesters. Reports followed that players and their families faced pressure back home. The episode made clear just how exposed these athletes are, caught between a regime watching their every gesture and a diaspora demanding they do more.
Iran's matches in LA carry weight beyond the scoreline
Iran face New Zealand on June 15, Belgium on June 21, both in Los Angeles, before travelling to Seattle to play Egypt on June 26. On paper, that's a manageable group-stage run. In reality, every match will be a cultural flashpoint — broadcast into living rooms from Tehran to the San Fernando Valley, interpreted through whatever political lens the viewer brings.
- June 15 — Iran vs New Zealand, Los Angeles
- June 21 — Iran vs Belgium, Los Angeles
- June 26 — Iran vs Egypt, Seattle
For anyone trying to read Iran's tournament odds through a purely footballing lens, the noise around this squad is going to be relentless. Teams playing under this kind of political scrutiny rarely perform at their ceiling — the 2022 campaign, where they went out in the group stage, showed what that pressure looks like in practice.
"Who am I to judge the actions of the team when I myself don't want to speak out publicly in case it endangers my family," said one Iranian-American fan who plans to attend in LA. That sentence probably captures where most of the community actually sits — not boycotting, not celebrating loudly, just watching carefully, and quietly hoping nothing at the stadium makes the situation worse.
