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“We came from Pakistan to Edmonton together. The 2021 chaos in Afghanistan pushed almost everybody to leave,” says Ashraf Amiri, a project collaborator who is now pursuing his PhD at the University of Massachusetts. After two weeks quarantined in a downtown hotel during the pandemic, the newcomers were restless. “Everybody wanted to come out,” he says. “Some tried the hotel gym — closed. Others called clubs in the city — no luck.”

Then , a local charity, with the support of Canadian Tire’s Jumpstart Program, and º£½ÇÉçÇø researchers stepped in. “It was a two-way effort,” Amiri says. “Us, the Afghan newcomers, and organizations like Free Play and the º£½ÇÉçÇø.” Buses began shuttling children to an indoor facility. “We suggested, ‘Why not the adults?’ Everyone needed some kind of activity after what they had gone through.”

From those first sessions came a team — Kabul-Edmonton — that joined a co-ed recreational league. Amiri, who is now pursuing a PhD, helped manage and later document the season as part of a community-based research project.

“The experience was mixed — beautiful moments, but also things people did not expect in Canada,” says Amiri.

KSR professor Jay Scherer, the project’s co-lead, echoed that assessment. “Even with all the support — buses, equipment, registration fees — it was extraordinarily challenging,” he says. “Recreational soccer here is surprisingly competitive. Newcomers may not understand those cultural codes of how to play, or at what intensity. It wasn’t as social as it could have been.”

Beautiful moments, harsh realities

The beauty was immediate: a chance to forget. “Players told us that being on the field helped them not to think about months in Pakistan, the chaos in Kabul,” Amiri says. “There were great, great moments.”

Scherer remembers one player vividly. “We interviewed an older refugee who had fled Afghanistan twice in his life. He told us that walking onto the soccer field for the first time in Edmonton felt like freedom. You can’t really put that into words. That’s what sport can do.”

But disappointment soon followed. “They expected to be welcomed more differently than they were,” Amiri says. “They felt excluded at times — words, actions, even calls from referees that did not seem Canadian to them.”

Scherer calls this a sobering finding. “The sad part of the story was that they were recipients of a fair bit of racism and Islamophobia,” he says. “It came partly as so-called ‘trash talk,’ but it went further — attacking their heritage and where they came from.”

Quotes from the research included: 

“You guys are nothing. You came from a country that is full of war’. I heard that many times during that game. That was the saddest game,” recalls Iman, one of the players.

“We didn’t expect to win, we just wanted to experience the new environment. When you hear such things, it sometimes kills you from inside,” adds another player, Shuja.

Gender and structural barriers

Part of the challenge was structural. The league required at least three women on the pitch. “We were not able to find enough female players,” Amiri explains. “Sometimes we had two. For those who came with us, there were barriers — culture, religion, family considerations. Everyone encouraged women to join; the men worked hard to bring them in. But it wasn’t easy.”

Scherer adds that these moments revealed deeper lessons. “It’s one thing to say the door is open for newcomers,” he says. “It’s another to actually give them the power to shape their experiences. That’s the next step.”

The texture of the game

The cultural distance wasn’t only about gender. It was about the texture of the game itself. “In Afghanistan, even teams that compete try to create friendliness,” Amiri says. “People get close, talk, shake hands. Here, our players couldn’t connect. They played the match and left. They did not even get to know a name from the other side.”

Language only intensified the gap. “When calls feel unfair and you can’t easily argue your case in English, confidence goes down,” Amiri says.

Scherer explains how this created disadvantages. “Part of soccer, especially in recreational leagues, is negotiating with referees. Imagine trying to do that without strong English. It puts newcomers in a tough spot.”

Creating welcome requires both connection and reform

Asked what would have helped, Amiri emphasizes small gestures. “Translators at the start. Interpreters. A small handshake before and after games. These small things create trust right away.”

Scherer agrees policy is crucial. “Soccer is one of the most diverse sports in Canada, but racism still surfaces. We need very public anti-racist policies and mandatory workshops for players, referees and administrators — even at the recreational level.”

Beyond one season

Though the research project focused on a single season, the impact has lasted. “We’re now talking about a four- or five-year study on sport and Afghan refugees,” Amiri says. “Not only in Canada, but also in Pakistan, maybe even Afghanistan.”

Scherer notes the project’s collaborative method, called PhotoVoice, will remain central. “It democratizes research,” he says. “Participants take photos and write about their experiences in their own words. They’re not just subjects — they’re co-producers of knowledge.”

Both Amiri and Scherer return to the same image: a field as a place of release. “Players told us football helped them breathe again,” Amiri says.

“After so many forces working against them, soccer gave them a moment of control, joy, and freedom,” adds Scherer.