PATRAS, Greece - The enemy is everywhere. Standing on the seats, running down the aisles. Shouting, laughing, dancing.
So how does that make you feel today?
The enemy is advancing. Moving through the stadium, waving flags, singing songs. Inviting you to come along.
So, tell me, do you see Iraq differently?
Here, in a town three hours north of Athens, in a stadium overlooking the Panahaiko Mountain, the Iraqi soccer team is greeted with wild applause.
In another land, in another reality, Iraqi insurgents work in the shadows, plotting their next attack against U.S. soldiers in their towns.
Does this make Iraq the enemy? Or the Olympic ideal? Do you appreciate the devotion of a country's athletes or despise the violence of its culture?
What do you make of these Iraqi soccer players and their fans?
Innocent victims? Or potential perpetrators?
It has been some time since America has faced this question. It has been a number of years since U.S. athletes competed against a nation while at war.
The Olympics, of course, are supposed to be above this. To be free of political motivations and agendas. The Ancient Games were built on the concept of soldiers laying down their swords.
But what if one side or the other rejects peace? Is it possible to separate a country's athletes from its policies?
"It's a mixed feeling. People are dying and here we are watching this," said Tanimi Zaki, a native of Iraq now living in Sweden. "We must continue to live. It must be better tomorrow."
Thursday night at the Pampeloponnisiako Stadium, there were signs of just that. Hope that maybe peace is more than just an ideal.
You could see it in the frenetic joy of Iraqi fans. In the way they embraced each other and anyone around them. In the way Iraq goaltender Nour Sabri hugged and kissed a fan before police dragged the intruder off the field.
The Iraq men's team upset Portugal 4-2 on the eve of the Opening Ceremonies to stake an early claim as the feel-good story of these Games.
This is a team with very little history and, until recently, even less reason to believe in its future. It has been 16 years since Iraq qualified an Olympic soccer team and 44 years since the country won a bronze medal in weightlifting, its only Olympic medal of any type.
Back home, the streets are chaotic. Violence is common, luxuries are rare. The soccer team needed a lift from Australian military helicopters just to get out of Baghdad and catch flights to Greece.
Earlier in the week, Iraq soccer coach Adnan Hamad said America "destroyed" his country. He was less critical Thursday, but said conditions in Iraq were far better before the war.
"It is very difficult in Iraq right now. There are many problems," Hamad said. "In Iraq, no one is happy. The people are afraid to walk in the streets. Our children are afraid to go to school.
"I think now everybody in Iraq can forget their problems. They can watch us on TV and forget the security situation and the other difficulties."
It has been years since Iraqi people had sports as such a meaningful diversion. Before the war, Iraq Olympic teams had been run by Saddam Hussein's son Uday, known more for his sadistic leanings than organizational prowess.
Under Uday, fear and torture were considered motivational tools. Mistakes by athletes were tallied and discouraged by an equal number of beatings.
Since the fall of Hussein's regime, numerous Iraqi athletes have talked about being taken to the basement of Uday's Olympic building and being tortured or imprisoned after losing.
Players were hung upside down, and the soles of their feet were beaten to the point of broken bones. Iraqi Olympic officials recently displayed tools of torture they said Uday used, including devices to crush fingers, iron masks of suffocation and cement balls players were forced to kick.
Uday is gone, but today new problems exist. Players say they are paid little. Money that was supposed to be used to rebuild the soccer federation has ended up in the pockets of administrators. Many of Uday's flunkies have retained positions of power and influence.
The original national team coach, a German named Bernd Stange, fled Iraq earlier this year fearing his life. Soccer equipment has been looted. Fields were destroyed in the war. Players have disappeared.
Teams have refused to play in Baghdad, so the Iraqis take 500-mile bus rides to play "home" games in Jordan.
"They have no organization. No money. They have nothing," said Pantiy Gorgies, an Iraqi native living in Athens. "But they are in the Olympics. They deserve to be here. They deserve to go to the finals."
The crowd at Thursday's game was announced around 4,300, and at least half that number were Iraqi fans jammed into the stadium's lower level.
It was a sight to behold. Young men chanting and dancing in the aisles, older men leaping and twirling in each other's arms.
It made college football crowds seem conservative. NASCAR fans, by comparison, sound timid.
It was a scene full of hope. Of promise. Of the potential for happiness in a place layered in suffering.
"I want peace," said Iraqi fan Emanuel Gorgies. "I want to build Iraq with the help of the U.S.
"I think, when it's all over, we will be friends."
