Portrait of a pro:
Egyptian icon
By
Fatemah Farag
Saleh Selim (1930-2002)
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The news that Saleh Selim, hailed as "the maestro" of Egyptian football, had died, struck hard. Those who had never watched a football match in their life, supporters of rival teams, everyone, it seemed, came together to mourn the loss. Selim was nicknamed not only for his footballing skills -- which most observers say bordered on genius -- but also for the way in which he marshalled his players on the pitch. So great was his prowess and charisma, that to call Selim a legend was not an exaggeration.
Tens of thousands converged on the Ahli Club on that gloomy day as his body began its final journey. Traffic had all but closed down in Mohandessin by the time the body arrived at the Mustafa Mahmoud Mosque before proceeding to the family burial grounds in Six of October City. The funeral was punctuated by the sounds of grieving as men burst into tears and the crowds held aloft photographs of the legendary player. Senior government officials -- including Minister of Foreign Affairs Ahmed Maher and Chief of Presidential Staff Zakaria Azmi -- were among the host of public figures who joined the crowds in bidding the footballer a final farewell.
"Many sporting icons have passed away but never before have there been such scenes," Abdel-Aziz El-Shafei, former Olympic swimmer, international bridge player, and a close friend of Selim's, told Al-Ahram Weekly on that day.
They first met at the Ahli Club in 1948.
"I joined in 1947 as a swimmer and he joined the football team a year later. Every night we would meet by the swimming pool... It was a more innocent, more open- hearted time. Everyone played for honour, the honour of the game, the honour of the country, not for money."
It was also a golden age for Egyptian sports, when for the first, and only time, Egypt took second place in the World Basketball Championship, when the international successes of members of the swimming team made them instantly recognisable, and when the football field could boast players of the calibre of Mohamed El- Guindy, Ahmed Mekkawy and Hussein Madkour, alongside Selim.
"Selim's popularity stemmed not, I think, from him being the most skilful, for there were other very good players, but because, whatever position he held, he always upheld the highest standards," says El-Shafei.
Selim joined the club as a 17-year-old, playing his first official match for Ahli on 24 October 1948. Between 1948 to 1959 he was a leading member of the Ahli squad that won nine consecutive national cups. In 1958 he broke all previous records when, in a single match he scored seven goals against Ismaili.
Selim's popularity is intimately linked to that of his club, Ahli, the wearers of the red T-shirt and, literally, the "national" club. When Selim joined, its arch enemy was the Farouk, later Mokhtalat ("mixed") Club and later still (post- 1952) Zamalek -- named after Cairo's smartest residential district.
Selim was one of the first Egyptian players to ply their trade in Europe, joining Austrian outfit Stum Graz in 1963 where he spent four years.
Like many of his peers, Selim's retirement was due in part to the 1967 Middle East war. He remained in the football scene, however, becoming Ahli's football director following the 1973 war before losing the club's presidential elections three years later to the incumbent, Abdel-Mohsen Murtagi.
Selim became Ahli president in 1980 after thrashing Murtagi at the ballot box, and was re-elected for another four- year term in 1988. He initially refused to run for the post in 1992 but was persuaded by the club's members to seek a new mandate. In an unusual vote of confidence, the club's board of directors was dissolved in a show of support for their candidate.
The player's links with the club were very much a family affair: Selim's father, Mohamed, was a leading member, as were his brothers, Abdel-Wahab, who died several years ago, and Tarek, who survives his brother.
Tall, slim, with slicked-back hair, soulful eyes and the perfect cheek bones of a classic matinée idol, Selim's popularity was somehow not hindered by his looks. It is hardly surprising that he should be one of only a handful of sports stars to have made a successful cross-over to cinema, starring in the 1960s film Al-Shomou' Al-Sawda (The Black Candles).
The display of popular grief over his death showed that the pantheon of public figures that emerged in the 1950s and 1960s still holds a strong grip on the collective consciousness. For Selim was not just a football player: within Egyptian sports he holds the same position as Abdel- Halim Hafez and Umm Kulthoum in Arabic music, or Abdel-Nasser in national politics. He, like they, has become a symbol of all the things for which it is worth striving, an emblem of the ideals, the duty and morality of a nation. And it is these, as well as the man, that are mourned.
