In the Soccer World Cup for Not-Quite Countries, Get Ready for Northern Cyprus vs. Abkhazia – Wall Street Journal

SUKHUMI, Georgia—Abkhazia doesn’t hold a seat in the United Nations. Its athletes can’t compete under their flag in the Olympics. But the post-Soviet separatist region is determined to get on the map as host of a world cup for would-be countries that, by most people’s reckoning, don’t exist.

Abkhazia, a stretch of Black Sea coastline that was once a Palm Beach for the Soviet elite, broke away from Georgia in bloody fighting in the early 1990s. Among U.N. members, only Russia, Venezuela, Nicaragua and Nauru, a tiny Micronesian island, recognize its independence.

In May, Abkhazia will be the site of the World Cup of the Confederation of Independent Football Associations, or Conifa. The soccer tournament is expected to draw teams representing Kurdistan, the Roma people, Western Armenia and Punjab, among others, bringing together in international competition a collection of statelets, nationalities and disputed territories.

The force behind Abkhazia’s bid to be a separatist soccer mecca is Astamur Adleiba, president of a local team called Dinamo. “We’ve always wanted to bring together the whole world of half-recognized countries,” Mr. Adleiba said. “Abkhazia is the obvious choice for the World Cup. It’s a soccer paradise.”

The local capital of Sukhumi is a resort town of ornate but often crumbling buildings set on lush hills that rise out of the Black Sea’s eastern shore. A partly burned-out former Communist Party headquarters dominates the skyline. On the boardwalk stands a derelict half-constructed hotel.

The only legal way to enter Abkhazia, for most of the world, is on foot or horse-drawn wagon. Mr. Adleiba is making sure the games go on, complete with pyrotechnic-heavy opening ceremonies. Walking on the field of a newly built stadium in sunglasses and a plaid blazer, he pointed proudly to the yellow and green contoured seats, new screens and imported artificial turf.

“Imagine: The lights are on, you’re playing in front of 500 people and you can just feel the energy!” he said.

Timur Kveskveskiriy, a local filmmaker, plans to create an opening show that is a little bit Super Bowl, a little bit Vegas and all Abkhazia. “Of course, we don’t have a Beyoncé, but we have local stars,” he said, adding the dancers will be dressed in the green, red and white colors of the Abkhaz flag.

Abkhazia survives largely on subsistence farming and a flow of bargain-hunting Russian tourists who stay at sanitariums once operated by the Soviet military and currently operated by its Russian successor. To cut a few costs, these will house the foreign soccer teams, as well. The games’ budget is the ruble equivalent of $14,000. The cash-strapped local government is receptive to the games but worried about the bill.

Mr. Adleiba’s ambitions gained a big boost from Conifa, a group set up in opposition to FIFA, the world soccer governing body. FIFA declined to comment.

Swedish businessman Per-Anders Blind founded Conifa in 2013, looking to give entities such as Somaliland and Northern Cyprus international games of their own.

Northern Cyprus declared itself a state following the dispute between Turkey and Greece that divided the island of Cyprus 42 years ago. It is recognized only by Turkey.

“The Northern Cypriot team intends to come to the tournament,” said Orcun Kamali, a member of its board. “We have an advantage that our team plays together consistently.”

Mr. Blind said it makes sense to have a tournament for such entities. “Borders are just administrative boundaries,” he said. “People today create their own borders.”

Last July, after bids from Abkhazia and two European teams, Conifa chose the Black Sea statelet. The fractious politics of tiny Abkhazia—its population is just 240,000—have made organizing the separatist world cup a struggle.

The organizers held an online contest to chose a mascot. Entries included a deer, a monkey and an ear of corn dribbling a soccer ball.

The monkey mascot was a shout-out to local pride: In the Soviet era, the region was home to a primate research facility that was part of the Soviet space program. Locals joke that the scientists wanted to create a half-man, half-ape super-soldier for the Soviet Army.

Like Roswell, N.M., where UFO hunters are a cottage industry, residents of Abkhazia are proud of their Planet of the Apes-style local mythology. “The rumors never proved anything,” said a tour guide at the still-functioning research center, as visitors tossed carrots and parsley to the caged primates. “But they can’t be denied, either.”

Organizers are still struggling to choose a mascot. “For a mascot you obviously need some little person or a little animal of some kind, you know?” said Mr. Adleiba.

Most governments consider Abkhazia part of Georgia, and the Tbilisi government has agreed to respect the Conifa world cup. At the same time, it warned against entering Abkhazia from the region’s Russian border, which Georgia says is illegal entry.

That is the route most Russians take on their summer holidays. Unfortunately for sports fans, the only other route is through Georgia, which means a six-hour drive from the Georgian capital and then a mile-long trek over a potholed bridge to reach an Abkhaz checkpoint. Cars aren’t allowed.

“You have to understand, we’re not Salt Lake City or Moscow,” said Mr. Adleiba. “This is all new to us. We’re working through all the problems as we go.”

On the wooden balcony of a Sukhumi cafe, Mr. Adleiba took in the view of the Black Sea and instructed a visitor in how to eat mamaliga, a dish of cornmeal and smoked cheese. (Spoon out the porridge from the edges.) He soon returned to his favorite theme, the world cup, and voiced a nagging concern about whether Abkhazia’s competitors will be separatist enough.

“I bet some of them don’t even have ambitions to be their own country,” he said.