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【时事翻译】In Israel, a Soccer Game Reflects a Divide一场足球赛反映了以色列内部的分歧

(2011-06-07 22:28:20)




June5, 2011

【时事翻译】In <wbr>Israel, <wbr>a <wbr>Soccer <wbr>Game <wbr>Reflects <wbr>a <wbr>Divide一场足球赛反映了以色列内部的分歧


In Israel, a Soccer Game Reflects a Divide



It’s 10 minutes before game time, and the police lined up outside the entrances of Doha Stadium aren’t letting anyone in. If Bnei Sakhnin, the only Arab-Israeli team in Israel’s first division, loses today, the club will drop to the second division, an ignominious distinction, the equivalent of going from the major to minor leagues in baseball.



And the team that Sakhnin has to beat to survive is the one they hate the most, Beitar Jerusalem, which has been associated with right-wing politics in Israel for decades and may be the only first-division club never to have an Arab player on its roster.



As the crowd presses toward the gates, I find myself next to a tall and slim bearded man named Ali, who made the long drive here from Tamra. He’s visibly anxious and speaking quite loudly. Sakhnin doesn’t merely represent a city, he tells me, but an entire sector of the population.



“It’s just a game,” I say, trying to calm things down.



“For you, maybe,” Ali responds, “because you’re a Jew. But for us, soccer is the only place we’re equal in this stinking country. If Sakhnin gets thrown out of first division, then they’ll be taking that away from us, too.”



Beitar’s jerseys say “Stop Racism,” but everyone knows that the slogan is there only because the team is trying to lighten the penalty imposed by the Israel Soccer Association for the constant anti-Arab chanting of Beitar’s hardcore fans, called “La Familia.” (“Muhammad is a homosexual” is a favorite cheer.) The bad blood between the two teams has caused many of their matches to end in rock-­throwing brawls.



My friend Uzi finds a scalper near the police barrier and asks him for tickets. The scalper looks stressed out, too. As I dig around in my pocket for money, he presses me: “Come on! Come on!”



“Cool it, bro,” Uzi tells him. “What’s the big rush?”



Uzi isn’t into soccer at all. He only came with me because my wife asked him to. She was afraid I would get hurt here. As I hand the scalper the money and take the tickets from him, he keeps shouting: “Come on! Come on!” And then we understand why. The Sakhnin fans have pressed up against the police barriers and finally broken through, and a wave of red shirts and scarves is surging forward toward the field, carrying Uzi and me along with it. The ushers are squashed against the walls, unable to do security checks on the fans rushing past.



Doha Stadium is fit to hold 8,500 people, but there are far more than that here today, almost all of them stuffed into the Sakhnin side. There are only about 100 people in the Beitar section; half of them are fans and the other half are policemen there to prevent clashes.



The game begins, and the first yellow card comes out almost immediately. Two minutes later, the sprinklers somehow come on, soaking the players on the field. At halftime, there is no score, but the Sakhnin fans never stop cheering.



They cheer for the Sakhnin players in Arabic and curse the Beitar players and the referees in Hebrew, so they’ll understand the slurs. When a Beitar player is injured, they chant: “He’s dead, he’s dead!” The rest of the time, they scream, “War” and “Beitar’s a whore.” And when they get tired of that, they switch to “Cops are whores,” in no small part because 11 years ago, during the October riots, two young Sakhnin residents were shot to death by security forces, and the shooters were not, in many people’s view, properly punished.



With every passing minute, as Sakhnin is unable to score, its side sinks deeper into gloom. When the fans in the eastern stands unfurl a huge banner showing the team name and a drawing of the Al Aqsa Mosque, it manages to draw a few calls of “Allah hu akbar,” but the feeling is that God is not on their side today.



With less than 10 minutes to play, the match looks sure to end in a draw, and Uzi signals that we should start walking toward the exit. Neither one of us wants to be among the thousands of hopeless fans and hundreds of jumpy policemen when Sakhnin gets demoted to second division.



As we leave the stadium, we hear it: a collective shout coming from thousands of mouths, followed by the sound of firecrackers. On the car radio, we hear that Sakhnin has scored in the 85th minute, winning 1-0, and that a few fans were injured during the celebration.



Tomorrow doctors will say that a fan will lose his sight in one eye. The police will claim a firecracker was responsible. The Sakhnin fans will say it was a plastic bullet. In an interview from the hospital, the fan promises he will be at the opening game next year.

明天医生会说一个球迷一个眼睛失明了,然后警察就会说这是一个炮竹引起的。萨克宁哈普洱队的球迷会说这是一个橡皮子弹所为。在医院里接受采访的这个球迷说,他明年还会在开场赛上出现。欢迎关注分享川透社译稿   原创翻译

Advices of the translation and assistance are warmly welcomed. We are responsible for the imperfections that remain in the translation and would welcome and appreciate any feedback from our readers.



Translated by 川透社: 王鑫 费志红 曹宁燕

当日负责人:肖罗乐    责编:陈柏伊


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