In 2021, Husein Alireza became the first ever Saudi Olympic rower. Already a trailblazer, he’s since dedicated himself to help other Arab athletes achieve their dreams
Husein Alireza can’t actually recall the last time he watched a movie. Literally cannot remember it. He does have a list on his phone, though, one which he shows to the camera revealing two or three big swipes-worth of films he aims to catch up on just as soon as he can find the time. But that’s where the problems start for Saudi’s first-ever Olympic rower: with time.
The way he sees it, he doesn’t really have any to waste. “My life is very mission based,” he explains, laying back on a comfy-looking sofa in blue track bottoms and a marl grey Nike tee. “Everything I do needs to be a passion for me, that’s just how I’m wired.”
You can’t really argue; the approach has been staggeringly successful so far. Alireza took to a sport that really wasn’t on the cards in Saudi Arabia—let’s face it, the country has no body of water to even train on—and then qualified for the Olympics. Not only that, but he helped create the Saudi Rowing Federation in the first place, allowing him to go to the Olympics (where he was also his country’s flag bearer). After making it all the way to the quarter finals in Tokyo—despite training through devastating loss of his mother, injury and COVID—he became the first Saudi member of the Olympic Council of Asia’s (OCA) Athletes’ Committee. Now, he’s aiming for election to the International Olympic Committee (IOC) Athletes Commission in Paris later this year—another potential first for the Kingdom. So, yeah, we guess Pulp Fiction can probably wait.
Not everybody is happy with him, of course, and occasionally people voice their displeasure that the ‘face of Saudi rowing’ abandoned his plans to compete this year in Paris. You can’t please everybody, right?
The reality is not so simple. Alireza had every intention of aiming for his second consecutive Olympics until injury decimated his plans. First, a dislocated shoulder in the summer which kept him out of the boat for four months, and then a slipped disc. The fact that the pain would come and go, made it even more frustrating—some good days, some bad—but eventually he just had to make a call.
“When I compete I want to win, but I knew that the time I had already missed [through injury] meant I could never truly be at my best [for Paris]. People look upset when I say that I won’t [attempt to qualify], but they normally have no idea what goes into something like that. You have to sacrifice everything else in your life for it. You can’t see your family, friends, you can’t have relationships… and that’s just scratching the surface. There are so many hardships. When people ask why I can’t do it, I just want to say to them: ‘come with me and train for a week. See how it feels.’”
It turns out that a love-hate relationship is essential with rowing. The requirement needed to perform at an elite level versus the tangible benefits offered beyond the podium (little money or stardom) mean that anybody involved really has to want it.
“There’s this short film about British rowers that is funny because of how it shines an authentic light on the sport,” he says. “They’re all in Spain for altitude training, but they are so just miserable [laughs]. Literally breaking down on camera. This is the thing. Rowing is such a unique sport. People love it, but at the same time it’s so difficult. It just makes no sense. I guess we’re crazy or something.”
Thankfully, the second rowing life of Husein Alireza is dedicated to the crazy people.
“In the last few years I found myself being drawn more and more into sports diplomacy,”
he says. So while Alireza might not compete in a boat this year in Paris, he is going to the French capital with a mission: three weeks of campaigning for the IOC Athletes Commission, with a result announced at the end of the Games. Thankfully he knows what victory takes.
“You basically have to go and stand there and reach out to the athletes,” he explains of his process to the OCA Committee at the last Asian Games. “I mean, this is what I did. A lot of people who were also candidates didn’t even show up. But because I wanted it so much I became obsessed. I was in the dining room from 10am to about 9pm every single day. There you would find me, standing next to the booth, meeting people and lobbying for my vote. There were others there, too. You got to know the faces—you knew who else really wanted it, too—and would basically fight over the 12,000 athletes there. There was a language barrier sometimes—which was tough, you were left to communicate via some sort of sign language. Sometimes you would think that they had understood you, that they were happy. Then you would watch as they went and voted for someone else. Seriously, lobbying can
feel like the most degrading of things. [laughs]”
But of course, there’s another mission at play here, too, another target to aim for other than just the position of power. You see, for someone who has really only lived this life for just over half a decade, Alireza has been through a lot. He learned much of it on the job—he had to—but that’s exactly why he believes he can help other people, too.
“When I started training there was no Saudi Rowing Federation. So I had to sort out my own training, training camps, finances, logistics, race entries, everything. I had a lot of personal issues on the run up to Tokyo, too, so I’ve seen quite a lot of things. Now, when an athlete comes to me with a problem I think that, 99 percent of the time, I can relate to it. I want to use my experiences to help others. It feels like a duty.”
So, while some people might be disappointed not to see Alireza in a boat this summer, the bigger picture comes in the form of hopefully being voted onto that IOC Commission. It might not win medals but it’s vital work that not only ensures athletes are at the heart of any Olympic movement decision, but can also help raise the profile of Saudi rowing immeasurably. Suddenly the network is open, and from there anything can happen.
It’s not hard to see why Alireza has become something of a natural in this habitat. He may admittedly not be a 9-to-5 guy (“I’m terrible at making money!”), but he has a genuine charm. There’s no agenda here, just a genuine desire to help. Measure success to your contribution to society. His father taught him that. Although there is a learning curve to be negotiated. After the World Rowing Federation announced his candidacy for the IOC on LinkedIn, he had to navigate a strangely antagonising comment on the post from the president of the Bermuda Rowing Federation. He did so with remarkable tact, even if his initial reaction—the one in his head—might have been anything but. Living a life in public is something he has become used to.
Last year Alireza featured in Forbes much-lauded 30 Under 30 list. It was just one example of the completely unexpected media attention that came his way post-Tokyo. This magazine was part of that, too, of course and Alireza graced the cover of Esquire Saudi in September 2022. But while a large amount of those experiences were good, he does admit to moments of naivety about the media spotlight he faced after the Olympics.
“When I came back [from the Olympics] people just wanted me to attend events,” he says. “I thought it was because they liked me. I thought they were just being nice. But eventually I realised that pretty much everybody has an agenda. I was telling my dad about an event once and he said, ‘you realise that you’re just furniture, right?’ [laughs]. People wanted me to attend, to have the photo, and that was it. I felt that perhaps they were often the ones benefiting and not me. After a while I thought, ‘well, what’s the mission here? How am I helping Saudi Arabia with this?’”
Now there has to be more to it to pique Alireza’s interest. That’s where the curve has taken him. It has to mean something. His association brands like Zegna and Cartier for example, hits hard on the most personal level. His mother wore a Cartier watch her whole life.
At this point it’s worth explaining that Alireza isn’t quitting rowing—he wants you to know that. He already has his sights set on the Olympics in Los Angeles in 2028, possibly in the sport’s new Olympic discipline of coastal rowing—a bid to bring more spectator excitement by way of a beach sprint to the boat and a 7 or 8km race to a buoy and back. But there’s also the family business to consider. It’s something that truly matters to him, but he’s not quite ready to commit just yet.
“You know, The House of Alireza (now Haji Abdullah Alireza & Co) is the oldest commercial enterprise registered in Saudi,” he says. “It was founded in 1845 and actually holds commercial registration number 1. It’s in its fifth generation, going on six,” he says with pride. “The family also founded the Kingdom’s first school (Al-Falah in 1905 in Jeddah
and 1912 in Makkah) which is now a not-for-profit providing equal access to education.”
What’s nice is that some of this family history is actually recent information to Alireza. “I just love that [with rowing] it turns out that I have been following in the footsteps of my ancestors without even realising it,” he says on the trailblazing nature of things.
“Working in the family business is certainly something I want to do… but just not yet. When I do something I have to give everything. I don’t want to be the guy who shows up one week and not the next. That just isn’t me.”
Of course in many ways Alireza is already in the family business. With his father the president of the Saudi Rowing Federation, the task at hand right now is working with the men and women who, in April, are aiming for Paris qualification. While Haya Almamy will compete in the women’s single sculls event, his cousin —Rakan Alireza—will race in the men’s single sculls.
“I recruited Rakan myself, in 2020, after seeing his dedication to crossfit,” he says. “I’m mentoring him, too. The reality is that there are just so many factors —like weather and competition—that affect qualification. But we’re hopeful.”
The problem with being the first person to do something is that, by its very nature, it isolates. And while Alireza has already achieved something truly astonishing—and aims to supplement his endeavours by laying the foundation for the Arab athletes of the future—you have to wonder about his application of selfcare. He dedicated his appearance at the Olympics to his late mother, while helping to build the Saudi Rowing Federation was for his father. If his position with the OCA,and IOC candidacy, is for other athletes, then really, what’s left for him?
“I do always see life as a series of tasks,” he replies. “But that’s a bad way of looking at things because you completely discount yourself. So, when I do achieve something I don’t really celebrate, I just move on to the next thing. When I look back at the years that have passed I’m like, ‘Okay, I’ve achieved all these things, but did I have fun? Not really’. I need to change that.”
Spending a few hours talking to Alireza is an interesting experience. The drive and focus he possesses doesn’t surprise you—the man is an Olympian after all, they are a different breed. However the candour he occasionally displays does. The admissions of stress and the loneliness of leadership; that type of honesty is something often lost on more seasoned campaigners—who are perhaps battle-hardened and have their personalities curtailed by the media training that comes with the territory. Personally, I think that this human quality is what separates him from many other candidates, or sportsmen… or just people in general. Speaking about feelings of fear, and the isolation of being a trailblazer, and yet still moving forward to face the challenge, well that is something that we can all relate to, whether we are Olympians or not.
“What I’m trying to achieve, nobody in Saudi has ever really done before,” says Alireza. “It’s not that it’s just so difficult, but there isn’t strictly a team to work side-by-side with either, so it can feel quite lonely sometimes.” He thinks for a beat, before adding with a smile, “But that’s fine, it’s okay, I still love it. It’s a good use of my time.”
Photography by Vladimir Marti / Styling by Nour Bou Ezz / Produced by Steff Hawker / Grooming by Jean Luc Amarin / Styling assistance by Charlotte Marsh-Williams / Special thanks to: Visit Hatta