Football in Oman — Football Case Study

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Exploration: is a photo series dedicated to the spirit of following one’s whim. Our members will let curiosity lead the way in searching for unique football cultures.

Oman with Scott Groult

Words and Photography by Scott Groult

November 9 2025

Oman had long been at the very top of my list of places to discover. I’ve always been drawn to the Middle East—its particular light, its culture. And Oman especially had the reputation of being the “pearl” of the region, a country where landscapes unfold one after another: mountains, deserts, beaches of striking blue.

I spent fifteen days there in November. It’s the best time to go—the local winter, with mild temperatures around 27 to 32 degrees, warm enough to feel far from home without being overwhelming. From Paris, it took a stopover in Istanbul to get there.

Before each trip, I look things up online, on social media. A journey is never the exact reflection of what you imagine—and thankfully so. Without surprises, there would be no magic. Before leaving, I had searched for football matches—nothing. But I hadn’t given up. And then, just a few hours after arriving, on the highway outside Muscat, a huge stadium appeared, lit up in the night. I said, “Let’s go see what’s happening there.” The entrance was open and free—almost unreal. I found myself in the stands of a Gulf Champions League match, Al-Nahda (Oman) against Tadamone Hadramout (Yemen), a game I would never have found online.

I thought Oman didn’t really vibrate for football; I was wrong. Yes, it’s a desert and mountainous country. But football somehow always finds its place, even where you least expect it. In a country where 57% of the population is Omani and where a large immigrant community from Pakistan, Bangladesh, and India brings a culture mainly centered around cricket, it’s mostly the locals who play. And they play everywhere.

Every afternoon, when the heat fades and the sun slowly slides toward the horizon, the beaches transform. Life comes back. Dozens of young people arrive, set up their small goals, pull on a shirt from Arsenal, Bayern, or Real Madrid, and play until nightfall.

I also attended another match, from the local “Professional League. ” Same atmosphere: nearly empty stadiums, free entry.

But what I remember most from this trip are the encounters. The Omanis first—kind, generous, curious, eager to understand where I came from and what I was doing there. And then those you notice less: Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Indians… the massive immigrant workforce that builds and keeps the country running. People often overlook them, yet they’re everywhere.

I spoke with many of them. They all told me more or less the same story: they had left home to work in the Gulf, hoping one day to bring their families over. Some Nigerians I met in a laundry earned ten times what they would earn back home, but still lived six to an apartment because the cost of living in Oman is high. They told me they had escaped corruption and violence—but not poverty. That reality stayed with me. Behind the smiles were enormous sacrifices.

In fifteen days, I spoke with Tanzanians, Chadians, Pakistanis, Indians, Yemenis, Bangladeshis… I learned so much more than I expected. And at the heart of all this, there was football.

Always the same universal language: all it took was walking up to a group of kids playing on the beach, and everything became simple. The ball did the talking.

Oman offered me magnificent landscapes—but above all, a deep sense of humanity. A journey that will stay with me for a long tim

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