RODA ANTAR — THE CEDAR STRIKES

When you talk about Lebanese football, there’s one name that echoes like a thunderclap across stadium walls and neighborhood cafés alike: Roda Antar.

He wasn’t just a player — he was a gladiator in midfield, a lion-hearted leader who carried the hopes of a nation on his back, especially when the spotlight rarely shone on Lebanese football. While others dreamed of Europe, he went and tamed the Bundesliga, stamping his name on German soil with tackles that rattled bones and goals that silenced crowds.

Roda didn’t play the game for applause — he played it like a battlefield commander, chest out, eyes sharp, guiding Lebanon through impossible matches like a storm-weathered captain steering a battered ship. He scored not just goals, but statements — each one a roar for a country hungry for glory.

And when he pulled on that red cedar jersey, it wasn’t just fabric — it was armor. With every armband he wore, he led like a warrior-prince, fire in his belly, dirt on his boots, and a nation’s pride in his stride.

Others came before and after — some with flair, others with finesse — but Roda Antar was pure football soul. The heartbeat. The hammer. The history.