There's something almost cruel about the way fortune distributes its gifts in football. Al-Ahli Jeddah, draped in Saudi wealth and glittering with European stars, sits comfortably in second place with four points from two matches. Al-Gharafa arrives at King Abdullah Sports City on Sunday carrying the weight of a different kind of pressure—the burden of proving that Qatari football belongs on this stage, that their recent victory over Al Shorta wasn't mere accident but announcement.
The Jeddah giants have stumbled through their recent fixtures like a fighter learning new footwork, all power without precision. Their 3-3 draw with Al-Hilal two weeks ago told you everything about this team's contradictions: Ivan Toney scoring twice in nine minutes to drag them level, only to watch their defense leak goals like a rusted bucket. That defensive fragility haunted them again at Al-Duhail, where they surrendered a two-goal lead and had to settle for a 2-2 draw despite Riyad Mahrez's brilliance. There's a pattern forming here, a dangerous one. When you have this much attacking talent—Mahrez weaving his spells, Toney bullying defenders with that Premier League physicality, Gabri Veiga pulling strings in midfield—you're supposed to impose yourself. Instead, Al-Ahli keeps giving opponents reasons to believe.
The truth is, they're still learning how to be ruthless. Firas Al-Buraikan's late goals against Al-Hazm papered over cracks that their loss to Pyramids FC in the Intercontinental Cup exposed with surgical precision. For all their talent, there's something unfinished about this Al-Ahli side, as if all the pieces exist but the blueprint keeps changing. They average 1.3 goals per game over their last ten, which for a team assembled with such ambition feels less like efficiency and more like unfulfilled promise.
Al-Gharafa comes to Jeddah carrying a different kind of chaos. Their 3-2 victory over Al-Rayyan was pure theater—Dame Traoré opening the scoring, Ahmed Al Ganehi doubling the lead just before half, then Yacine Brahimi stealing three points with a 90th-minute winner after their opponents had clawed back level. That's the kind of win that emboldens a team, makes them believe they can survive anywhere. Their 2-0 dismantling of Al Shorta four days later, with Joselu and Ferjani Sassi scoring within five minutes of each other, showed they could also dominate when circumstances allowed.
But here's what keeps you up at night if you're Pedro Martins: that 5-2 humiliation against Muaither in the QSL Cup. Five goals conceded. In one match. Florinel Coman, their Romanian winger, scored twice in that game and you still lost by three. That kind of defensive collapse doesn't just disappear because you've had a couple of good results since. It lingers in the muscle memory, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
Joselu represents their best hope for chaos. The Spanish striker knows how to operate against elite opposition, knows how to turn half-chances into goals when defenders lose concentration for a single moment. Against an Al-Ahli backline that's proven vulnerable, he'll see opportunities. Brahimi, too, with his ability to drift into dangerous spaces and create something from nothing, could exploit the gaps that inevitably appear when teams try to defend with the ball.
The tactical battle will hinge on whether Al-Ahli can finally harness all that individual brilliance into collective suffocation. Mahrez needs service, yes, but more importantly, he needs runners making those diagonal runs that pull defenders into impossible choices. Toney thrives on chaos in the box, on those scrambled moments when balls ricochet and defenders panic. If Al-Ahli can force Al-Gharafa into their own half for extended periods, the Qatari champions will crack—their defensive record suggests as much.
But if Al-Gharafa can weather the early storm, if they can reach half-time within touching distance, they'll believe. And belief does strange things to underdogs in knockout football. Their averaging 1.4 goals per game over their last ten matches shows they can score, even against better opponents. They proved it at Al-Rayyan. They proved it against Al Shorta.
King Abdullah Sports City will expect coronation. The Saudi fans will expect their expensive imports to deliver the kind of performance that justifies every riyal spent. But football has a way of humbling certainty. Al-Ahli should win this match. They have better players, more depth, home advantage. But "should" is the most dangerous word in sports. Al-Gharafa arrives with nothing to lose and everything to prove, and sometimes that's the most valuable currency in football.
The question isn't whether Al-Ahli will create chances—they will, plenty of them. The question is whether their defense can finally deliver ninety minutes without the kind of mistake that keeps managers pacing touchlines at three in the morning. Because if they give Al-Gharafa any kind of opening, any sliver of hope to cling to, you might just see an upset that reminds everyone why this competition remains the most unpredictable in Asian football.