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The assistant coach fled Baghdad after threats to kidnap his son, the goalkeeper lost his brother-in-law in the sectarian violence and even fans have been targeted by suicide bombers.
So the fact that Iraq's national football team made it to the Asian Cup final in Jakarta being played
early today (NZ time) was nothing short of a fairytale.
The rainbow team is not only giving a country riven by conflict something to celebrate with its remarkable run, but with Sunnis and Shias, Arabs and Kurds in the line-up, it is also a reminder that unity is not an antiquated relic.
Iraq have never made it to the final before. Their opponent was three-times champions Saudi Arabia, and the political ramifications of playing Osama bin Laden's homeland were not lost on some fans.
"Everybody will be hoping that the team can take revenge on the country that produced terrorism," said Bashar Ali, a 29-year-old who runs a takeaway in Baghdad's Karrada district.
But for others the showdown was a real chance to forget the daily diet of bombings and assassinations.
"We don't have that many occasions that make us happy," said 21-year-old Sinan.
Iraqi football has had a chequered history in recent years, particularly under Saddam Hussein's son Uday. As head of the Iraqi Football Association, he sadistically used the sport and its stars as playthings.
Uday forced the country's best players to play where he chose. Training sessions were called on a whim in the middle of the night and he at least once made a side play with a concrete football.
When players had a bad game, they would be locked up. The sentence depended on the crime, from two days for a defensive error to three weeks for a missed penalty.
Former Iraqi footballers such as Sharar Haydar, who defected in 1998, described being whisked away by the secret police to a cell where he was beaten on the soles of the feet up to 20 times a day.
Few of Iraq's national team now play at home - instead most are with clubs in the Middle East or North Africa.
Since the coalition forces parked their tanks in the al-Shaab stadium, the national team's "home" games are played "away", in places like the United Arab Emirates. And in the build-up to this month's Asian Cup, the Iraqi FA set up home in an Amman hotel lobby.
Coaching has been another headache. Akram Ahmed Salman became the third coach to resign in three years, citing death threats. And with good reason.
Last September gunmen pulled up outside the home of Ghanim Ghudayer, a member of Iraq's Olympic football team, and grabbed him. He has not been seen since.
Brazilian Jorvan Vieira came in to fill the coaching void, two months before the Asian Cup.
But his attempts to bring some Latin flair to the team soon ran into trouble, as he held training sessions with only six people. Then the team arrived in Bangkok for the championship, with old kit and no training equipment.
Yet in spite of the chaos, they made it to the quarter-finals.
Two hours before that match against Vietnam, midfielder Hawar Mulla Mohammed received a phone call from Iraqi Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki, telling him that his step-mother had been killed in the violence at home. He played on, and the team won 2-0.
But on reaching Kuala Lumpur for the semifinal with South Korea, the Iraqi team found only seven rooms available for the 30-man squad.
To make matters worse, the rooms they were waiting for were still occupied by players from Iran.
After the nail-biting 4-3 penalty shootout victory over South Korea, and with Iraq's place in the finals booked, fans in Baghdad erupted on to the streets, dancing and slaughtering sheep in thanks to Allah.
Then the suicide bombs went off, killing 50 people and wounding more than 100.
That inevitably raised fears about today's final.
"I don't think many people will celebrate on the streets, and for the terrorists to have denied us that basic right is a shame," said dentist Riyadh Jaafar.
Some mothers have said they will keep their children at home, saying they don't want them to become orphans for the sake of watching a football match with friends. But other residents are defiant.
"We will celebrate regardless of the threats. My friends have already bought flags," said Jalil Abdulla, a 16-year-old student.
In the end, whether Iraq's dream comes true will have depended on the 11 men on the pitch. But whatever the result, the "Lions of Mesopotamia" will know they have a whole country behind them.
- INDEPENDENT
