Before Iran stepped onto the field against Belgium in Los Angeles, the squad gathered to watch a motivational video. It was not a montage of victories or glittering trophies, but rather a collection of survival, resistance, and fleeting moments of defiance against football’s giants. According to Alireza Jahanbakhsh, the clip captured the emotional DNA of Iran’s recent World Cup history: desperate defending, relentless pressing, and isolated moments of brilliance against powers such as Spain and Portugal.
By the end of the evening, that video no longer felt retrospective. It had become prophetic.
In the 59th minute of a tense 0-0 draw against Belgium, goalkeeper Alireza Beiranvand produced a save that instantly entered Iranian football folklore. Belgian defender Maxim De Cuyper appeared certain to score from close range, only for Beiranvand to hurl himself leftward with astonishing reflexes to deny him. When the rebound fell kindly back to the Belgian full-back, the Iranian keeper rose again to make a second save, somehow preserving parity.
For the 70,000 spectators inside Los Angeles Stadium, the moment felt extraordinary. Yet for Iran, it also felt strangely familiar.
Beiranvand has built a career on these moments of resistance. In 2018, he famously denied Cristiano Ronaldo from the penalty spot in the World Cup against Portugal, a save that transformed him from a little-known goalkeeper into a national icon. In the same tournament, he embodied Iran’s stubborn resilience during a dramatic victory over Morocco. Against Belgium, history repeated itself. Saman Ghoddos later admitted the team had actually watched clips of those exact moments before kickoff.
“The same situation happened now,” Ghoddos said afterward. “The unity, the fighting spirit we have for each other, for our country, for the people — that’s what creates moments like this.”
That spirit has long defined Team Melli. Iran’s recent World Cup history is filled with heartbreak delivered in the cruelest fashion. A late Lionel Messi strike crushed them in 2014. Ricardo Quaresma’s outside-of-the-foot brilliance denied them in 2018. In 2022, they fell agonizingly short of a knockout-stage berth after defeat to the United States. Time and again, Iran have hovered at the edge of history without ever fully grasping it.
Beiranvand’s save felt different. It felt like a refusal to surrender to the old narrative.
Jahanbakhsh suggested as much after the match. While proud of the draw, he hinted that Iran believed they should have won, particularly after Belgium were reduced to 10 men following Nathan Ngoy’s dismissal for hauling down Mehdi Taremi.
“In previous tournaments, at the last minute we didn’t get what we deserved,” he said. “Maybe now is one of those times.”
The result leaves Iran within touching distance of the greatest achievement in the nation’s footballing history: progression to the knockout rounds of a World Cup.
Yet the match was about more than football.
Outside the stadium, the atmosphere reflected the complex realities surrounding modern Iran. Thousands of supporters arrived draped in modified national colors and lion-and-sun flags, symbols officially discouraged yet defiantly visible throughout the crowd. Protest groups gathered nearby, chanting against the Islamic Republic and insisting that Team Melli represented ordinary Iranians rather than the state itself. Others condemned geopolitical violence, displaying banners memorializing victims of recent military strikes.
Inside the ground, those tensions remained audible. Boos accompanied the national anthem, just as they had in previous tournaments. Yet unlike 2022 — when fears of surveillance and intimidation overshadowed many demonstrations — this time the divisions existed side by side, less explosive and more reflective of a fragmented but deeply passionate diaspora.
And amid all the politics, football remained the one shared language.
“We all have different ideas and ideologies,” Jahanbakhsh said. “But there are things every Iranian has in common everywhere in the world: Team Melli, ghormeh sabzi, and tahdig.”
On the pitch, Iran once again embodied its familiar identity: compact, chaotic, courageous. Belgium dominated possession and attacked with sharper technical quality, but lacked ruthlessness. Romelu Lukaku was neutralized superbly by Shoja Khalilzadeh, while Iran threatened sporadically through quick transitions and clever set pieces. Taremi even thought he had scored after a brilliantly rehearsed free-kick routine, only for VAR to rule him narrowly offside.
Ultimately, however, the match belonged to Beiranvand.
There is something deeply symbolic about his rise. The towering goalkeeper from the Iranian countryside once spent his childhood throwing stones across vast open spaces while growing up in a nomadic family. Those long throws later became his trademark, but so too did his resilience. He ran away from home to pursue football, sleeping rough and working odd jobs before eventually becoming the face of Iranian goalkeeping.
Against Belgium, that journey seemed to converge into one defining image: Beiranvand suspended mid-air, arm outstretched, refusing to let history repeat itself once more.
“He’s the best goalkeeper in our country’s history,” Ghoddos said after the match.
On this night in Los Angeles, it was difficult to argue otherwise.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar

