As Cairo’s biggest football clubs – Zamalek and Ahly – prepare for the local derby, the revolution is bringing change to the sport Ahmed can remember the moment with perfect clarity. It was in Tahrir Square on 2 February, and the young Zamalek “ultra” – the term given to the fanatical hardcore supporters of Cairo’s two biggest football clubs – found himself side by side with fans of Ahly, his team’s hated rivals, as the Mubarak regime sent thugs on horses and camels marauding into the crowd. “We were together on the frontline, defending the revolution and putting football behind us,” he recalls. “It was the moment I realised that everything had changed.” On Wednesday Ahmed will come face to face with those Ahly fans again, though in very different circumstances. Five months on from the uprising that toppled Egypt’s dictatorship, Zamalek and Ahly will clash in one of the world’s most hotly contested sporting derbies, commanding a television audience of 40 million in Egypt alone. Parts of the capital will be put into lockdown as thousands of armed police and army soldiers attempt to keep opposing supporters apart. “It’s not just a game,” says Hassan Almstkawy, a columnist for Al Ahram newspaper and the country’s premier sporting pundit. “Apart from war, only two things can bring millions and millions of people onto the streets: revolution and football. Now we have both at the same time.” The run-up to this crunch meeting could not have been more dramatic; Ahly, historically the more successful of the two teams, had been trailing Zamalek at the top of the Egyptian league by six points when an anti-government uprising broke out in late January and the football calendar was suspended. Yet since matches resumed in April, Ahly – who were named “African club of the century” last decade and are only two titles away from overtaking Barcelona as the most trophy-winning team of all time – have enjoyed a sensational run of form, and last week climbed above Zamalek just as the season was drawing to a close. With four games to go, most Egyptians believe Zamalek have to win on Wednesday to keep their dream of winning the championship in 2011 – their centenary year – alive. “Football is a religion here; when things are bad elsewhere in society this is what we turn to,” says Karim Sabet, a 34-year-old Ahly supporter. Mido, a Zamalek striker who formerly played for Ajax and a number of English Premier League clubs, agrees. “This is a massive event for the whole of the Egyptian people,” he said. “I’ve played in the Tottenham-Arsenal derby but honestly this is different – you’ve got the same intense atmosphere but with a bigger stadium and crazier fans. People live for this match.” But as 75,000 people pack Cairo International Stadium, the action on the pitch isn’t the only thing football fans will be watching out for. In a year when political change has penetrated every corner of Egyptian society, the Middle East’s two most powerful sporting outfits have not remained immune from revolutionary fervour – no surprise considering the history of the clubs, which both emerged out of the early 20th-century nationalist struggle against British colonialism. “Ahly was born from a movement of students, doctors, farmers and engineers who came together to establish a forum in which Egyptians could discuss politics for themselves,” says Hanan El-Zainy, a member of the Ahly management team and currently the only woman working inside Egyptian football. “Our former presidents have included government ministers and officers who helped Gamal Abdel Nasser win independence in 1952; our history is the history of a nation.” As Nasser cracked down on opposition and established a one-party state, Ahly and Zamalek assumed the role of proxy representatives for a wide stratum of Egyptian society and became, in Almstkawy’s words, “the two biggest political parties in Egypt”. “The government used football to distract the masses from political failures; Egyptians compensated for their absence in the political process with fanatical support for one of the two big teams,” says the pundit. “Politics and football here have always been interlinked. Inevitably then the fans of these clubs played a critical role in this year’s uprising – without their strength on the battlefield in resisting Mubarak’s forces, the 25 January revolution would have been defeated early on.” As Egypt’s revolution continues, the country’s football fans have continued to make the pro-change cause their own. Ongoing demonstrations against military rule and institutional corruption regularly feature the distinctive jerseys of both clubs, and recent Zamalek fixtures against the national army and police teams have seen Zamalek fans singing in no uncertain terms about what they think of the latter in the new, partially liberated Egypt. Now the spirit of Tahrir is also dissolving old certainties inside the clubs. Players and coaches who were perceived to have been close to the old regime have been placed on blacklists by fans; this month the formerly popular coach of the national team Hassan Shehata was forced out, ostensibly due to a bad run of results which prevented Egypt from qualifying for the African Cup of Nations – a competition they have won seven times – but also thanks to his staunch support of Mubarak. More significantly, pressure from supporters has encouraged some teams to challenge the hegemony of the Egyptian Football Association (EFA), a long-time hotbed of corruption allegations, and this week a third of the nation’s sides issued a vote of no confidence in the Mubarak-appointed EFA board. “Of course the revolution has touched the sporting world as well, especially football,” says Ashraf Sobhi, a director at Zamalek. In the aftermath of the uprising some of Zamalek’s non-playing staff went on strike as part of a wave of industrial action sweeping the country, and forced concessions from senior management. Since then the team has made more of an effort to engage with fans and recently organised a number of events to promote tourism to the country and commemorate this year’s martyrs. “It’s our role as a sporting club to serve Egypt; each Egyptian should be proud of the revolution and think about how they can best help build the country right now, and we as a football team are doing the same,” argues Sobhi. “We have a responsibility to use the power and popularity of Zamalek to serve the community.” Teams are also attempting to break free from government control; most are currently obliged to have a series of government-appointed directors on their boards and state regulations governing private investment in sporting clubs remain highly restrictive. “We need the freedom to expand and take on the biggest sides in the world,” adds Sobhi. “Egypt has changed, and we must do the same.” One reality that is unlikely to be transformed any time soon, though, is the exclusive membership structure of the clubs themselves. Both teams boast sprawling leisure complexes in the heart of Cairo featuring lush grass, high-end cafes and a series of swimming pools, all open to members who, theoretically at least, hold democratic control of the organisation. But it’s a democracy accessible to only a fraction of the two teams’ millions of fans – prospective Ahly members must be of “good reputation”, educated to university level and capable of paying $23,000 (£14,400), and there are no plans yet to soften the criteria. “Our members are decision-makers so of course they have to be carefully selected,” says El-Zainy in what could be a summary of the elite attitude towards public political participation in the Mubarak era. “We are a national movement but we have to make sure any new member is right for us.” And so on Wednesday, as the battle for Egyptian football supremacy kicks off, a broader struggle is playing out behind the scenes. “It will take time, but corruption and the remnants of the old regime that remain entrenched inside the sporting world will eventually be removed,” predicts Almstkawy. “A revolution is like a volcano: when it explodes it covers everywhere in ash and nothing – not even football – can escape it.” Egypt Middle East Africa Arab and Middle East unrest Hosni Mubarak Jack Shenker guardian.co.uk