MAKEDONIJA V SCOTLAND, World Cup Qualifier, Skopje
10th September 2013
In continuation of part one in Srbija.(See next article below)
Post Burek nibbling, the border formalities were next up as the journey continued into the mostly southerly state of what was once Yugoslavia, bound for the capital, Skopje as we were. Remarkably in the ‘90’s as region’s further north tore themselves apart and went to war with one another, Macedonia (I am not pandering to any Former Yugoslav Republic or North appendages) was a potential flash point that somehow avoided out and out war, save some localised skirmishes. The UN were all over Macedonia doing its best along with the government to avoid the bloodshed of Bosnia etc, and it was largely successful.
Historically Macedonia is very different from its northern neighbours in Slovenia and Croatia for sure, as a little over a hundred years ago both areas were under the influence and governance of very different cultures. The Austro-Hungarian Empire might have guided the northern areas in a certain direction, while the Ottoman Empire certainly did likewise in what were the southern Yugoslavian areas. The ethnic diversity of Macedonia is quite extraordinary, even during the second World War the Bulgarians helped themselves to large parts of what today is Macedonia, ahead of Tito’s Partisan’s pushing back and claiming whole swathes of land that has now devolved into seven different countries, with the seventh Kosovo, only being partially recognised as a country and highly controversially at that.
After Slavko and Katarina had dropped me off at my hotel in Skopje, even the extraordinary sight from my room window opened up a very different European proposition to me. I have never been anywhere East of here in the Muslim world, and the sight of minarets as well as the call to pray sound, was something quite unique thus far in my travels, and especially in the morning as I was waking up, it was quite a soothing sound. It highlighted the cultural mix, an uneasy mix at times, in a country where due to an unwillingness to participate, predominantly by the Albania community, who continue to refuse to provide accurate information thereby leaving Macedonia as the only country in the world never to have had a census!
In the world of football, Macedonia’s flagship side were Vardar Skopje, a club who could give the more elite sides of Beograd, Zagreb and Split a good game back in the day, but the rest of the club sides from around these parts fleetingly, if ever, managed to make it into the Yugoslavian top flight. Upon Independence, the new land having started up its own league, has gradually seen the power of Vardar diminish, as well as sadly the overall standard drop, in correlation with dwindling crowds. There are however signs that some teams, largely financed from the Albanian community, such as Shkendija from Tetovo and Shkupi in the capital have started not only to joust with Vardar for the title, but started to make strides in European competition too. That has culminated in the National team winning its group in the Nation’s League, and only the global pandemic has prevented the play-offs to see if Macedonia can qualify for its first ever major tournament finals. It would be a fabulous achievement.
Back to 2013 I had obviously arrived in Skopje ahead of the Tartan Army, as that first day plundering the city was somewhat more sedate than the next one. Around 30% of the population of the country lives in Skopje, a city that has been inhabited since 4000 BC, and remains of a Neolithic settlement have been found within the imposing walls of Kale Fortress that looks down on the modern city. The ethic mix is best explained by the inordinate number of baton changes of rulers; from Roman, Byzantine, Bulgarian, Ottoman, Kingdom of Serbia, briefly Bulgarian again, then Yugoslavia ahead of full independence. With such diversity, comes the giddy mix of cultures, which woven peacefully gives the country a unique feel. The Old Stone Bridge across the Vardar river has seen many a changing of the guard, and if stone could talk, this bridge would be the toast of any high brow gathering as it recants all manner of tales it has witnessed. The Old Bazaar area is where all these diverse aspects of the city and the country come together, with a rich tapestry of bars, restaurants and shops to bombard the senses. The fabulous historical parts of the city sit uneasily with the nauseating modern constructions culminating in an Alexander the Great theme park feel. Given this was seven years ago, I shudder as to what other monstrosities the architects have got away with in Skopje.
That inaugural day in Skopje had culminated in getting together in the Old Bazaar for proper Macedonian food with Katarina and Slavko, the bond of great friendship was already visible. The next day the centre was full of Scottish fans almost to a man and woman in kilts with barely a flash of anything other than pasty white knees on show! I travelled around doing the tourist thing under the radar, with neither kilt or tartan on view. As the day went on, the antics of the drink fuelled visitors, similar to my experience on the Faroe Islands six years earlier, just became tiresome. Intriguingly right in the centre of the city that day, a small kiosk was set up for anyone to buy a ticket to the game.
By game time, our number had swollen as we got together with relations and work colleagues of my friends Katarina and Slavko. The Liverpool contingents from the Macedonian Reds were well represented with a rogue Gunner, and a chap who’d had a trial at Dundee! The National Stadium in Skopje, then known as The Philip II Arena is a thing of beauty, with its high steep banked rows of seats on both sides of the pitch edging to a reduced, more sedate seating capacity behind the goals, with the arching roof following the flow of the stadiums seating to perfection like an ocean wave. Yes it has a running track, but this stadium was for multi-purpose use, and somewhere to be proud of for sports fans, whatever the code they follow. In 2019 the stadium was renamed The Tose Proeski Arena, in honour of the country’s pop sensation, so cruelly taken from life at just 26 years old. His fame went beyond the borders of Macedonia, he was idolised throughout the Balkans and beyond, with a couple of his CDs and a DVD residing proudly with me for example. His name will crop up once more in the post match conclusion to this article as a fabulous mini tour of Macedonia was undertaken with Katarina as my guide.
For this encounter with Scotland, the stadium was never likely to be near capacity, neither side had a chance of going to the Brazil World Cup. The Scottish fans were housed in a section of the main stand opposite where we were sitting, and as usual they’d come in considerable numbers. Despite dusting down my Argentina ‘78 version of a replica shirt for the occasion, there was nothing but smiles and warmth from those sat around us. Both the Tartan Army and myself were at the right end of the stadium to see the sublime free kick from Shaun Maloney that thundered into the top corner to win the game 2,1 late on, it was a goal fit to win any game. One thing that showed just how little I pay attention to the National team was the man of the match for Scotland, a wee lad I had never seen before, and not only did he score the opener, he scampered around enthusiastically and was a constant thorn for the hosts. I subsequently learned this was Ikechi Anya, who played for Watford. The win saw Scotland leapfrog Macedonia from second to third last in the group, but the home team had played well and at 1-1 no one would have said it wasn’t deserved. Anya and Maloney, aided by Steven Naismith’s support play proved to be the difference between these evenly matched sides on the night . There was one hilarious moment when the ref got the second half underway for a few seconds before realising that the Macedonian goalkeeper was still edging across the running track putting on his gloves nowhere near the pitch let alone the goal! The post match beers with my Macedonian friends included loads of chat, but not so much about the game, it was that incidental.
This game was the fifth time I had seen my country play away, and obviously the losing of the kilt and the love affair with the Tartan Army culture is winning, as the “kilt” trio; Costa Rica (‘90- Genoa) 0-1; England (‘96- Wembley) 0-2, and Norway (‘98-Bordeaux) 1-1 all failed to bring a win. The two subsequent games, Faroe Islands (‘07-Toftir) 2-0 and here in Skopje 2-1, both viewed from the home end without kilt, have brought my only two sightings of an away win! Where will my next Scotland away day be? If anywhere!
The day after the game, Katarina, her friend Magdalena, Slavko’s then girlfriend and I sent off west out of Skopje and followed the Korab mountains south towards Lake Ohrid, stopping off in rural villages for the most lavish spread of local cuisine. Macedonia may not be the richest country in terms of finance, but like Serbia, they are both blessed with riches of the land, far more worthy and important in my book, coupled with incredible warmth from the people. The evening arrival in Ohrid, the main town on the same named Lake showed even in mid September it is a busy little place. The hotel was right down by the water, an idyllic setting save for the disco bar a few doors down whose music hampered sleep for us all, but mostly the second night for me as I was out like a light that first night. Perhaps due to the different air, or just the fatigue of an extraordinarily busy few days, but I slept well.
The mountains on the far side of the lake is Albania, a land so interconnected with life in Macedonia, but not always in a positive way sadly. Visiting St Naum monastery at the southern end of the lake the next day, the first town of Albania, Pogradec was visible along the shore. It remains as close to visiting there as I have managed so far, but in truth it isn’t high on my must do list. Interestingly the lake is maybe one third Albanian and it’s called Pogradeci. Back in Ohrid we would see small groups, or couples still sporting their Scottish colours even if the kilts had gone. These sightings made me proud in the sense that not all the fans just head abroad to drink and be merry, a good number take time to enjoy the culture and the beauty of the land they are visiting, and those who went beyond Skopje will all have returned north with genuine warmth of the local people and the stunning scenery Macedonia affords.
On the way home we visited the second city of Macedonia, Bitolo, then through Prilep where Tose Proeski had been born before visiting the mountain town of Krusevo where he grew up. The views from Krusevo were stunning, a quiet, sedate place other than the bus loads of Tose fans who come to pay homage to the young star at a museum they have built in his honour. He might have only been 26, but he had met so many famous people and accumulated quite an array of instruments as well as making a good number of albums before being killed.
It was a late evening arrival back into Skopje, and after a shower at Katarina’s and a late night chat with Slavko, it was a very early morning flight back to the UK. It had been a truly memorable trip, one that has come rushing back to me as I recollect moments to write this piece. I am delighted that a few years later I was back at Luton Airport to meet Katarina and her mother, as we embarked on a tour north which included her first ever trip to Anfield. Alas, even for a game versus Watford, tickets proved impossible to get at a sensible price, but I know they had a wonderful day in Liverpool, complete with stadium tour and they enjoyed Edinburgh too. Slavko has yet to make it to either city, but had Covid not put the world on hold, they had been planning a trip to celebrate the Reds league title as well as journeying to Edinburgh, but that will have to wait for another day, hopefully not 30 years though!
I was barely home before I was taken to the sky’s once more bound for Yerevan, Armenia merely a month later, a journey that will conclude this Go East mini series.
Football Adventures with James Rendall 