Tom Goodyer explores why Mohamed Salah is the most powerful man in Egypt. And how his apolitical role holds power in a politically-fractured landscape of his nation.
Late afternoon; the sun, low and yolky yellow, throws shadows tall across deserted streets and thickens the air to a heavy haze. Ibis till the silt of the Nile for crabs, maybe a stolen kofta, the waste of an empty city. Washing is left, forgotten, to dry off high balconies. No shrieks, no sound of a football skidding off dust is there to break the comparative calm. Cairo and all its colours are hidden away.
Hidden, eyes focused on a projectile hundreds of miles away, slowly gaining momentum as it loops down onto the boot of Héctor Bellerín, only to be snatched away by Mohammed Salah, hurtling at the Spaniard like a grinning barracuda. Sentences trail off, breaths are drawn in, Egyptians and Scousers alike rise to their feet, Bellerín scrambles to recover, as Salah, floppy-haired and accelerating, bears down on the Kop End. One look over his shoulder: for support or to see the breathless Arsenal players in his wake. One touch to bring the ball to the penalty area, a handful more and he’s sizing up the Czech man in the crash helmet, a simple left-footed sweep and the ball ripples the net.
Everyone is up now. In Egyptian living rooms, in Liverpudlian pubs, in Anfield itself, watching the winger, tongue out, arms extended, revel in the moment. It is probably not Mohamed Salah’s best goal, not his most important, being the third in a 4-0 victory, but perhaps the one that best encapsulates what he offers to Klopp’s Liverpool. Namely, scorching pace, directness and goals. Lots of goals. He typifies the high-intensity play that Klopp relies upon and relishes, hardworking and hard pressing.