Suleiman al-Obeid was known across Palestine as the “Palestinian Pelé.” The 41-year-old striker had more than 100 career , wore the number 10 for Al-Shati’a Club in Gaza, and scored one of the national team’s most celebrated goals, a bicycle kick against Yemen in 2010. To fans in Gaza, he wasn’t just a footballer. He was proof that joy and excellence could thrive even under siege.

On August 6, al-Obeid was killed while waiting in line for humanitarian aid in southern Gaza. According to his family, an Israeli tank shell hit the crowded queue. The Palestine Football Association confirmed he was among dozens of civilians who died that day. His widow, Doaa, clutched his jersey in a photo that spread quickly online, telling reporters it was “the most precious thing he left behind.”

UEFA acknowledged his passing two days later. In a brief post on X, it called al-Obeid “a talent who gave hope to countless children, even in the darkest of times.” The tribute didn’t mention that he was killed, or the circumstances surrounding it.

That omission lit a fire. Liverpool forward , one of the game’s biggest stars and an Arab football icon, responded directly to UEFA’s post: “Can you tell us how he died, where, and why?” His seven-word reply was shared millions of times within hours, pulling the story into the global spotlight. The Guardian, Al Jazeera, and Reuters quickly covered Salah’s challenge.

Public sentiment online split between grief for al-Obeid and frustration at football authorities’ caution. On Twitter, fans accused UEFA of “whitewashing” his death. Online threads called the tribute “cowardly,” with one top comment reading: “If you can’t say why he’s gone, don’t pretend to honor him.” Others praised Salah for “saying the quiet part out loud” when so few high-profile players had spoken on Gaza. Side-by-side images of UEFA’s post and Salah’s reply became a meme, captioned “Two posts, two versions of the same story.”

Football under fire

Al-Obeid’s killing is part of a devastating pattern for Palestinian sports. Since October 2023, Palestinian officials say more than 300 footballers, coaches, and referees have been killed in Gaza, alongside hundreds of athletes from other sports. Nearly 300 sports facilities have been damaged or destroyed, from the historic Yarmouk Stadium to small neighborhood pitches. Many surviving players are displaced, living in shelters or tent camps. Organized football in Gaza has been suspended for nearly two years.

Al-Obeid’s career had already been shaped by these realities. Even at his peak, travel restrictions often barred Gaza players from joining the national team abroad. He spent most of his career at home, where he was a top scorer in the Gaza league, before a stint in the West Bank that brought him a Palestinian Premier League title with Al-Am’ari Youth Center in 2011. Fans nicknamed him the “Gazelle” for his agility, and children in Gaza compared him to .

The muted response from UEFA reflects the tightrope global sports bodies walk when conflict and politics collide with the game. In a private message shared by the PFA, UEFA president Aleksander Čeferin praised al-Obeid’s legacy but still avoided acknowledging how he died. For many in Palestine, that silence feels like complicity. Some online also questioned why Salah, despite his powerful platform, waited until now to speak so directly.

Gary Lineker, the former England striker, wrote on Instagram, “We can’t hear you UEFA,” while former UK Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn posted, “Well said, Mo!” in reply to Salah’s tweet. The combination of star power and blunt language from Salah has ensured al-Obeid’s story — and the question of how football should respond to wartime killings of its players — will be harder to ignore.

In Gaza, Doaa al-Obeid told reporters she hoped the world would remember her husband for his love of the game and his community. “He kept playing for the children,” she said. “Even when there were rockets, he’d still find a way to train them.” For now, his number 10 shirt is all she has left, a reminder of what was lost in more ways than one.