Al Shabab SC

Al Shabab. In Arabic, it means ‘The Youth’. There are teams of this name in almost every Arabic country, from Iraq to Saudi Arabia to the UAE.

In Syria, the Al Shabab team comes from the city of Raqqa. And boy, does Raqqa have a history. Both ancient and modern, it has been at the very centre of world affairs for over a millennium.

The team has struggled to establish itself in the Premier League and currently plays in the second division. However, as we will see, the conditions for a thriving football team have not always graced the good people of Raqqa, who have been struck by a number of terrible misfortunes (to put it mildly). And yet, every time there is a pause in the destruction, a slowing of the tide, the young people of Raqqa—the Al Shabab—lace up their boots and take back to the pitch.

So, let’s do them the honour and take a closer look and #GetTheBadgeIn for Raqqa’s Al Shabab.

This story is going to be a game of two halves. Appropriately.

The first section focuses on the badge and what it tells us about the ancient importance of this beautiful old town. The second is a closer look at the recent tragedies that have befallen the town and why this has led to disruption of the football team. However, rest assured, we can end on a more optimistic note—as it appears the conditions for football success in Raqqa may just have returned…

So, to the badge. The falcon—or hawk—has been studied extensively in my series on Syrian badges, from Imperial Rome’s eagle to Islam’s Hawk of Quraysh. There are dozens of good reasons for the bird to feature. But what is most striking about this badge is its direct incorporation of Syrian architecture. The only other example I can think of is Al-Nawair SC’s waterwheels.

The Arabic text along the top simply reads ‘Youth Sports Club’. It doesn’t mention Raqqa by name—but it doesn’t need to. The detail behind the bird roots it firmly in the heart of the ancient city.

Those doors and windows you can see are from the Baghdad Gate, an ancient monument that still stands proudly in the city today. This detail is expanded further on their red playing kit—which I think I have to rate as the nicest I’ve seen so far in Syria.

The Baghdad Gate in Raqqa, Syria, is a 10th–11th century Abbasid-era ceremonial gateway built from baked brick. Located in the southeast corner of the city’s circular walls, it was designed more for symbolic and architectural display than defence. The gate features ornate Persian-style arches, decorative brickwork, and carved niches, reflecting strong Mesopotamian influences. Although part of an earlier 8th-century wall system, the gate itself is a later addition and has undergone recent restoration efforts after damage from conflict.

Long before the gate was built, however, Raqqa—situated at the top of the Euphrates River in a central northern location within Syria—was an incredibly important city. In the Roman period, the settlement—known as Callinicum—was a key frontier town positioned along major trade and military routes linking the Mediterranean world with Mesopotamia. Its location on the Euphrates made it both a natural defensive line and a vital crossing point, giving it economic importance through trade and taxation, as well as strategic value as a military outpost guarding the empire’s eastern edge.

Following the rise of Islam in the 7th century, Raqqa became an important border city between the expanding Islamic Caliphate and the Byzantine Empire. Its position along the Euphrates placed it firmly within a contested frontier zone, where control of the river and surrounding routes was essential for both defence and expansion. As a result, the city developed as a centre for administration, military organisation, and supply, supporting campaigns and securing trade routes that linked Syria with Iraq and beyond.

Raqqa reached its peak under the Abbasid Caliphate in the 8th and 9th centuries, when it became a major political and economic hub. The Abbasid caliph Harun al-Rashid even used the city as a secondary capital, overseeing vast territories from this strategic location. Its placement along key trade networks, including routes connected to the Silk Roads, brought wealth and cultural exchange, while its proximity to the Euphrates ensured access to water, agriculture, and transport. This combination of strategic, economic, and political importance made Raqqa one of the most significant cities in the early Islamic world.

As the cities of Aleppo and Damascus grew to dominate the north and south of the country respectively, Raqqa fell away in terms of relative importance. It was soon taken over by Bedouin chiefs, who used it as a base for their tribes as they migrated across the Syrian steppe—from the Euphrates deep into the Arabian interior.

And that is where its story might have ended. But unfortunately, the city has become well known in very recent times for the misfortune it has suffered at the hands of the Islamic State.

Taking advantage of the downfall of the Baathist regime under Assad, a handful of extremists—many experienced from fighting against the Americans in Iraq—crossed the border into northern Syria. They quickly seized Raqqa and made it their capital. The self-declared caliphate under Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi terrorised the population, and most locals fled.

By the end of the fighting, around 80–90% of Raqqa’s population had fled, and roughly 70–80% of the city lay in ruins. Entire districts were flattened, and what had once been a thriving historic centre became a landscape of destruction.

Their homes were instead given to extremist recruits from across the world who responded to calls to join the caliphate. For insight into the mindset of those who joined—from places as far afield as Japan, Australia and Texas—Graeme Wood’s The Way of the Strangers (2016) is a useful reference.

Needless to say, it takes an especially vulnerable individual to heed such calls, and those who travelled to Raqqa were a complex mix of backgrounds and motivations. Their time in control of the city was relatively short-lived, as they came under attack from multiple forces, including the United States, Syrian opposition groups, Assad’s forces and Russia. However, the devastation they inflicted was catastrophic. Almost every building in the city was damaged or destroyed during the fighting.

Football was considered a sin by Islamic State, and they publicly executed four of Al Shabab’s players and their coach. The stadium itself was turned into a prison where torture took place. Needless to say, this did little for the club’s ability to survive, and the remaining players fled for their lives.

However, as we approach a new era in Syria, Raqqa—now purged of extremist control—has seen the return of its native population. With them has come a desire for a new start, a new vision, and a new hope.

This is the moment for Al Shabab to step up. The stadium has been rebuilt (with the first match played again in 2018). The club has a refreshed identity and an active social media presence helping to galvanise support.

Raqqa is one of the most historic cities on Earth. Before the recent troubles, it was also one of the most beautiful. I dare anyone to find a football team that has had a rougher time of it over the last decade the Al Shabab.

But they're writing the biggest and best come back story of all time.

That brickwork on the badge is not just about the past—it is a commitment to rebuild for the future. Brick by brick. Goal by goal.

The youth of Raqqa are ready to write their own history—on and off the football pitch.