The Mido Touch
By Amy Mowafi
April 2006

Fame, fury, fashion, football, and that African Cup incident; Mido gets up close and upfront with Senior Editor Amy Mowafi in this Enigma exclusive. It turns out Egypt’s favourite bad boy is all grown up and embarking on a whole new ball game.

It was an episode that would have gone down in infamy, if infamy wasn’t already fully booked. Yet today, Ahmed “Mido” Hossam, unruffled, unapologetic and undeniably in control is entirely dismissive of the furore created by the African Cup incident.

What on earth happened Mido? You had promised no more drama?

He sits and stares, an infuriating smirk slowly forming across his chiselled jaw-line. Mido is not biding his time, he’s not grasping for a suitable answer. One soon discovers – albeit surprisingly so – that Mido’s ball control is matched only by his careful and speedy manipulation of the spoken word. His fiery love-hate affair with the media has not blunted the sharpness of his tongue; it has honed the precision of its aim. From now on every reply will be immediate, succinct and directed.

But first Mido is setting the ground rules, making it very clear who is in control. Sitting amidst the opulence of London’s Dorchester hotel, looking every inch the affluent young and trendy urbanite – brown battered leather jacket and faded jeans – he is letting me know that there is nothing I can do or say which will catch him off guard. He is making it very clear that if I become too privy to contentious information, it will not have been unwittingly shared. 

So he reaches for his drink, pushes back  his highlighted chocolate brown curls, and takes a slow sip. He places the glass back down and then finally, calmly, quietly answers, “It looked much worse on camera. I think certain people had their reasons to make it look that way. Nothing bad happened. Hassan Shehata is as old as my father and he is my coach, there is no way I would disrespect him. All I asked was ‘why?’”

Come on Mido, if that was really the case why did the Egyptian Football Association ban you from international football for six months?

I am hoping my belligerence will afford me a front row seat to the volatility we all know and secretly love; a volatility last seen rearing its passionate head back in February when Mido was substituted during Egypt’s semi-final match against Senegal. In front of the world’s media he seemed to be throwing a tantrum, arguing with his coach, refusing to leave the pitch, incredulous that an international player of his stature was being substituted. 

Unfortunately my questioning seemed to be having a greater impact on Mido’s friend sitting beside him. Wrapped up in woollen scarf and beige beanie, and having spent the best part of the last hour meekly complaining of a cold, he falls silent and listens intently. And wisely so, for the young man is mid-fielder Hossam Ghaly; having recently been imported from Egypt himself, he would do well to learn from Mido’s painstakingly acquired media savvy. Mido however remains unmoved. Besides he’s now busy fielding attention from the fans – important men in expensive suits who come and tap him on the shoulder, shake his hand and in clipped English accents tell him to “keep up the good work.”  It happens three times over the next hour, and again when we meet a week later. And each time Mido’s reaction is the same. A nod of the head, a hurried thank you and the whole incident is dismissed, as if it never happened.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he asks, leaving the gentleman fan to make his own awkward exit. 

The ban Mido, what about the ban?

“The decision was made based on the media coverage, not on the reality. Egyptians are very emotional people; we take big decisions without investigating. In Europe if a player has a problem with his manager, they’d investigate first. That didn’t happen; they took a decision within two hours!”

So you’re saying Egyptians are unprofessional?

“No. Everyone simply has their own way of acting. But I was shocked that the manager started arguing with me. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. Usually the manager ignores the player. Yes, I made a mistake, I should have just shut up and left the pitch, but the manager also made a big mistake by arguing with me.”

So how did you feel when Zaki went on and immediately scored that goal?

“I was very happy of course, I was happy because our team won, and you could see that from my reaction at the time.”

Where you not totally embarrassed? I mean you made such a big deal, and then the guy went on to score!

“Of course not. It made no difference to me. I didn’t have a problem with the player, only with the manager for always substituting me first.”

Mido honestly, if the same thing had happened in England, with Tottenham coach Martin Jol, would you have reacted in the same way?

“No.”

Er…so what’s going on there then?

“Martin would never have substituted me.”

Mido you’re unbelievable!

“I’m serious. Martin ensures I play full games.”

Ok fine, let’s say hypothetically he substituted you, would react in the same way?

“Of course not. I care more about the Egyptian team. There is more pressure. Everyone wants me to score. There was more riding on it.”

I don’t know Mido, it seems a bit of a coincidence that you’ve had issues with the both Egypt’s coaches; first Taredlli and then Shehata but never with Martin…

“There were never any problems with Tardelli, the guy just didn’t want me on the team, and the fact that Egypt didn’t qualify for the World Cup at the time proves that he was wrong. I would have helped the team win. Shehata is a different matter. Shehata substituted me, but Zaki scored and the team still won which means I can’t say Shehata was wrong.”

Well your teammate Wa’el Goma told the BBC the reason you keep getting into trouble is because you are, and I quote, “young and inexperienced”. What do you say to that?

“If Wa’el really said that, then that’s his opinion. I have a lot respect for him and he was one of the best players in the [African Cup] tournament.”

And how did you feel watching the final match from the sidelines?

“Of course I would have loved to play and I think if I’d played, the match would have ended differently, but the players managed to take us to victory and that’s all that matters now. Before the final match started I wished I was on pitch, but as soon the whistle blew I turned into an Egyptian and a fan. I forgot everything, and supported Egypt like every other player.”

So what have we learnt?  Where Mido was once blinded by the media’s glare, trashing widely in its harsh spotlight, doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing, today he barely blinks. He is older (a mighty 23 years of age), wiser, he is a husband and a father and has learnt his lesson…the hard way.

His story has become part of Egyptian football history, but it bears repeating. The son of Hossam Wafsi, the celebrated footballer player and coach, Mido made his talent known at a young age. Wafsi threw open his contact book, pulled the right strings and ensured that a nine year old Mido was enrolled at the exclusive Nasr City sports school, four years shy of the minimum age. “My father made me love football; he helped me become the footballer I am.” The help might have been appreciated but was by no means required. Seven years later, having just celebrated his 16th birthday, Mido became the youngest ever player to join Zamalek club’s first team.

“I remember watching the Zamalek and Ahly players when I was ten or twelve and of course I loved them,” he says. “But I also remember thinking that’s not my dream. I wanted to surpass that, to achieve more, to reach Europe.” 

In 1998, during a friendly match between the Egyptian Olympic team and a French team, he was spotted by a scout from Belgian club Ghent and offered his first international contract. The teenager made his way out into the big wide world…with his mother in tow.

In 2000, another lucrative offer saw Mido move to Amsterdam to play for Ajax. Mido excelled on the football pitch, but he was young, he was making a hell of a lot of money for his age, and back in Egypt he was becoming too famous for his own good. He just didn’t have the experience or the stability to see him through. The stage was set for his relationship with controversy. Not that Mido sees it that way.

“For a 16 year old to suddenly become famous, to achieve his goals and be in the media spotlight is a very dangerous situation” he says. “It affects a lot of players negatively. You have to be very strong and have a very big dream to withstand that. You can easily feel you’ve reached the top, and stop working hard and stop having ambitions; that’s the moment you fail because you stop giving anything new to the game. Thank God that hasn’t happen to me. I’ve always wanted to push myself more, prove more and be even better.” 

Of course such wisdom comes with the benefit of hindsight. To those who watched his career  take one step forward then two steps back, there were moments when Mido was undoubtedly the lost 16 year old of which he speaks.
At Ajax he clashed with Coach Ronald Koeman who felt the young sportsman was not professional or mature enough to deal with the rigours of European football. Koeman complained that Mido wasn’t focused, had a major attitude problem and was failing to show up for meetings with sponsors. Oh and there was a minor incident with a pair of scissors and fellow Ajax striker Zlatan Ibrahimovic. The punishment was harsh: he was relegated to the club’s junior team.
Mido made the first of many public apologies, and was duly recalled to play with the grown-ups. However his stubbornness refused to be smothered and the problems with Koeman continued. The solution? For $250,000 Mido was loaned to Spain’s Celta Vigo. A stellar performance with the team catapulted him to Marseille, France. And guess what? The management had issues with him. Or the way Mido tells it, he had issues with the management. Either way, Italian Serie A Roma came to the rescue with a $4 million deal. It was a lucrative move, and as Mido tells me, it was an opportunity to play for his dream team. “Roma had always been the ultimate goal for me,” he says. However with Coach Luigi Del Neri favouring Vincenzo Montella, Antonio Cassano and Marco Delvecchio for attacks, Mido rarely got a chance on field.
And then in 2004 the Egyptian football federation announced that Mido would never again play for his country. The shocking ruling came after a falling-out with Egypt’s coach at the time, Marco Tardelli. Mido had  insisted he couldn’t play for the national team due to an injury, but played in a friendly match with Roma 24 hours later.  So in January 2005 Mido swallowed his notorious pride, apologised for his volatile past, and promised that from now own he’d be a very good boy. He was promptly signed by London premiership club Tottenham HotSpurs on an 18-month loan deal with Roma. “I would have liked to stay four five years at a single team,” he says. “It really improves your performance. That is one of my few regrets. As soon as I did well, I’d have to move. But there was a reason for each move and I learnt from each of them. I experienced a lot of different cultures and different schools of football. I’m sure I have a lot more experience than other people my age, and doubtless these experiences have helped me.” Those experiences ensured that by March of 2005, with Tardelli long gone, he was recalled to the national team. Happily ever after? Well not quite.
For this all brings us to the African Cup of Nations episode, and the discovery that Mido still has the knack for creating a media storm. The difference is that these days he weathers it beautifully. As we chat over sushi he explains, “The Egyptian media and the fans went from being angry at me for what happened at the African cup to being completely supportive, and it happened overnight. That was my doing. I ensured that I spoke to the right people, explained my point of view, and by the cup final the fans were disappointed with the authorities for not letting me play.”

So you didn’t mean it?

Before he has a chance to answer, we are once again interrupted. Mido’s close friend, Spurs striker Robbie Keane, has spotted him from across the sushi bar, and immediately comes over. Queue big hugs, big hellos and lots of friendly chiding, “Mido shouldn’t be on the team,” says Keane laughing. “He’s a rubbish bloke.” And so on and so forth. I try desperately to get a useable quote from him, but Mido is having none of it. “Amy, what are you doing, you can’t get quotes from Robbie Keane in the middle of a restaurant,” he says, in the manner of a man telling off his daughter. He is now getting me riled.

Mido, we’re not in Egypt, it is fine, trust me.

Of course Mido does not trust me, and Keane is swiftly sent away before I embarrass him further. I begrudgingly return to the matter at hand.

Ok, Mido, so basically what you’re saying is you didn’t mean what you said to the Egyptian press.

“Of course I meant it,” he replies, barely dignifying my question, barley lifting his eyes away from the steaming bowl of noodles. And that’s it. Of course he did. As he reiterates repeatedly, “As long as my close friends and family know the truth, as long as the people I respect know the reality, that is all that matters. I only care out the opinions of the people that matter to me and the people I respect.”

Believe what you want, but Mido has said what he has to say on the whole African Cup incident. And if you do choose to stick to the popular image of Mido as quintessential “bad boy”, quite frankly my dear, he doesn’t give a damn. Mido is much more than the sum of his controversies.

Fashion, Fame & a Fabulous Life

The next time we meet, Mido is surrounded by hair and make-up artists, a camera crew, hundred of thousands of pounds worth of couture and Enigma’s flamboyant stylist, all there for a shoot that has been three months in the making.  We’re back at the Dorchester, in David Tang’s much celebrated China Tang restaurant.  The air of purposeful panic that accompanies a shoot of this nature is having little effect on Mido. Dressed in low slung jeans and a designer T-shirt, he cuts a calm albeit striking figure, his 6 foot 2 frame stretched out on a leather chair. Our make-up artist is now giving him a face massage, so conducts the next fifteen minutes of conversation with his head thrown back and eyes closed. He’s feeling a little worse for the wear after a long day of training, and has seemingly decided that he’s going to give me a hard time, if only to entertain himself. So we launch the afternoon’s proceedings with Mido joking that he played the part of Brad Pitt’s younger brother in Legends of the Fall. This is followed by a speech about how sorry he feels for my husband “because he has to deal with your annoying questions everyday.” And it is only after he informs me I’m “a pain” that we can get down to business.

“I didn’t even make this much of an effort on my wedding day,” he says as his long hair is gelled, tousled and coaxed into cover-page perfection.

It was four years ago a teenage Mido became a married man. His parents felt only the love of a good woman could stabilise their erratic son, and he was swiftly handed over to his teenage sweetheart, 17 year old Youssra. There was a fabulous wedding with fabulous people, followed by a swift packing of the bags and a life spent following Mido wherever he may go.

Youssra quickly produced an heir to the thrown; a son called Ali, whose name is tattooed in black Arabic swirls on Mido’s arm. “I told my parents it was temporary, that it would fade in six months, otherwise they would have been so mad,” he says. “What’s funny is that Egyptians would have reacted badly if it was just a normal tattoo, but because it’s the name of my son, it’s ok.”

So has the wife and kids scenario protected Mido from the “evil” temptations of the West?  Four years down the line Mido is a household name, his brooding face staring out of posters in many bedrooms. His star is in the ascendance, and he’s living the life of the celebrity footballer in one of the greatest cities on earth. Mido is after all the highest ever paid Egyptian professional. And he has the black Aston Martin “with black leather interiors”, and the London lifestyle to prove it. And when you put it like that, what 23 year old would want to be tied down? Surely he must regret getting burdened with a wife and kid so young?

Despite Hossam Ghaly having warned me Mido does not like discussing his private life, he’s surprisingly compliant. “I love my family and wife and they mean more to me than any possible freedom I could have,” he says. “As for the female fans, my wife is very cool. She knows that fans are fans and my wife is my wife and the two have nothing to do with each other.”

He married her because she was the “perfect woman” and by perfect he means a woman who’s prepared to “sacrifice everything and anything for her husband and kids.” But what sacrifices has the demanding Mido made for his wife? “None, because I’m happy; there is nothing I had to give away,” he says. “Marriage is the one thing I’ve done that has made the most difference to my life, professionally and personally. It is important that a person has aims other than his work, and my son gives me that. A person without a family has no anchor and that’s dangerous. So I’d like a big family; three kids sound good, if God wants that for me. And the fact that I’m still young means there won’t be a big age gap between me and my kids which is a good thing.”

What if Youssra told him she’d had enough of the travelling and wanted to go back home to Egypt? “Without a doubt it would affect my decisions because above all I want her to be happy,” he shoots back. 

The trouble with Mido is that I can never tell if he’s being sincere or not because there’s his constant smugness to contend with, yet that answer still surprised me. And then he keeps on talking. “Anyway that would never happen. She’s happy to be with me and doesn’t care where she is as long as she’s with me, and that is real love.”

Ahh, that’s more like the Mido I’ve come to know. Oh wait, he hasn’t finished yet: “Which again makes me feel very sorry for your husband Amy, having to put up with you.”

As for the fame, ask him which is more important, recognition or money and the reply is immediate, “Both.” No insincere speeches about the “love of the game” required. For that he lets his feet do the talking. And they long ago said their piece. Mido is the top scorer at Tottenham Hotspur and Coach Martin Jol has called him “one of the best headers of the ball in Europe.” That said, perhaps he could be forgiven for his bad boy behaviour. Besides, is the riotous media attention not the hallmark of the millennial celebrity footballer? Have his antics not secured him his position as Egypt’s first superstar footballer; the David Beckham of the Middle East? “Firstly I don’t like that comparison,” he says. “The only reason people make it is because of the problems he had with Ferguson.”

I don’t think so Mido, I think it’s the whole celebrity thing.

“I still don’t like it because I feel sorry for him.”

So basically, Mido pities one of the world’s greatest living footballers. “Beckham is a major star and has the style and the wife to make him a major star,” he continues. “And that level of celebrity is definitely not something I aspire to. I don’t like people to know anything about my private life and my family. The attention on Beckham’s life is a big burden, and I feel really bad for him, having people follow his every move like that.”

He may not aspire to a life à la Beckham but he’s seemingly not averse to picking up a few tricks of the trade from the sporting celebrity. He’s becoming something of a football fashionista, distinguishing himself from his Egyptian cohorts and proving himself a worthy addition to London’s beautiful people. “Personal style is important,” he explains. “It’s not just about the football, it’s the whole package.” He’s secured a sponsorship with Dolce & Gabbana and has developed a penchant for head-to-toe designer wear. And, like Beckham he’s created a football academy in his name, developed with all the business acumen one would expect from a generation of athletes savvy enough to hone off-pitch business interests in preparation for a post-sport life. The academy has already been recognised as a step towards revolutionising the sport in Egypt, with only the very best talent being honed to international standards. “We are aiming to get three or four players in international clubs every year,” he explains. “That’s what’s really going to make a difference for Egypt in the World Cup.” And when they do make it big, guess who gets a share of the profits?

He’s also launched a sports magazine, set up a café in Cairo “but that’s not really a business thing. I just wanted to create somewhere cool where people could watch football.” And he has plenty more ideas in the pipeline, including a possible Mido branded line of sportswear. Mido’s biggest plan for the future however, is also the simplest. “In ten years time I see myself at home, watching football with my family.”

So could Mido possibly just be a nice Egyptian boy at heart? Well, the answer might actually be yes. You can see it in the way the relationship between him and Hossam Ghaly is playing out. It would be easy to assume that Ghaly is a threat, a potential rival. After all Ghaly has what Mido wants: a contract with Tottenham. Ever since Mido was loaned out to the British club by Serie A Roma he’s made no secret of the fact he’d like to be a permanent fixture in the in the British FA. Yet Mido has appointed himself Ghaly’s new big brother. He takes him everywhere, introduces him to everyone and wants to make him feel like “he has family in England.”

And if you get him off the topic of football, Mido is, dare I say it, endearing. “If I hadn’t become a footballer to be honest I don’t think I would have amounted to much. Academics were never my strong point so this really was a gift from God.”  He plays the piano, loves music and is into old-school performers, the likes of Um Khaltoum, Abdel Halim Hafez and Fayrouz “because there’s real art involved.” I even a get a three second rendition, and if the whole football thing fell apart, Mido wouldn’t make a bad pop idol. He’s certainly got the x-factor.

He loves Egyptian food, and can’t get enough of moussaka (eggplant with mince meat). He hates dishonesty. “I can’t stand two-faced people, the type of people who only look out for themselves, and this business had taught me a lot about who I can and can’t trust.”  He is aware of his own faults, and knows there are certain qualities he needs to work on. “I know my worst trait is my temper. I get angry very quickly which is bad because losing control in the moment is dangerous.” And if he could change one thing about his life, he would have “his mother, father, brother and sister” live with him. It’s a reminder that despite it all, Mido is still very young, a boy who is far away from home and “misses mum and dad so much.”

But enough of the talk; the photographer is finally ready for him. Mido saunters off to discuss the shoot with the stylist. He poses silently as the activity around him crescendos. He moves easily from shot to shot, barely acknowledging the stunning blonde model draping herself around him. And four hours later, while the crew gather round a laptop assessing the shots, while assistants rummage through piles of clothes, Mido silently slips out,  dismissive of the furore he has left in his wake.

Ahmed “Mido” Hossam, Spurs striker and Egyptian superstar has played the part of the aloof celebrity perfectly. But it’s a part that’s easy to play off the pitch. Mido might act like he’s done with infamy but I doubt infamy will ever be done with him. As long as football is a passionate, exhilarating sport, with its highs and lows and its irresistible fervour; as long as it demands that same passion from its very best players, there will always be much ado about Mido.