What would you cite as your most random game ever watched? Perhaps such an occasion arrived on your CV almost by accident. Well that’s what happened to me while in Istanbul during the World Cup. I did get a morsel more notice than the day I was dropped off outside my hotel in Riga with a three hour window to fill, and before I had crossed the pavement from car to foyer, I was following two maroon and white scarf clad chaps literally up the road to watch Latvia v Israel, which started within minutes of my arrival. In Istanbul, my girlfriend was under the weather in the morning, so knowing the Besiktas stadium was easily reached, and it had a museum, I decided to let her rest while I headed off to give the memorabilia of one the city’s big trio the once over.
Upon arrival outside the once named Inonu Stadyumu, which following a magnificent buffing up is officially known under a sponsors name Vodafone Park, I noticed something was a little different. We had inadvertently stumbled on the stadium a few days earlier as it is right across the road from one of the big tourist attractions, the Dolmabahce Palace. It then became obligatory for a wee nip across, and while the ground was off limits, the enormous club shop was open. Whilst perusing the nick nacks I had clocked the museum, hence this second trip to the stadium, and coming across the road from the tram stop, I watched two lads busy putting out fencing, could there be a game?
I could have been at a second tier match within our ten day sojourn, but the two alternative offerings were both 10.30am kick offs on Saturday and Sunday morning. Whilst “technically” these games were in Istanbul, they were both circa 40 kilometres from where we were staying in the magnificent old city Sultanahmet area, but neither was ever going to be attended anyway. This trip had been hastily arranged to meet my girl following the land border crossings preventing her joining me in Italy from St Petersburg the month before. On that occasion I ended up rejigging the whole trip to pack in 13 games, thus making sure football in Istanbul was not my priority.
A quick enquiry at the museum entrance confirmed that Besiktas were indeed playing that night versus Istanbulspor at 7pm in a friendly, with tickets available up the hill outside the stadium at the ticket office. I bounced around the museum delighted that I could add a game in Turkey, and I had a recollection in my mind from the fabulous book Welcome to Hell by John McManus, that the Passolig (Turkish entry ID) requirements didn’t extend to European games, so I presumed a friendly would fall into that category too.
Of course I presumed wrong, and at one juncture I was about to give up. Before you could apply for a Passolig, you had to apply on the Besiktas website to become a club member. Turkey isn’t part of the convenient mobile phone arrangements like the EU for UK visitors, and switching on data immediately starts racking up the pounds. The ticket office and the club shop had no internet, making the whole thing seem like a complete faff. Yet, no matter where you are in Turkey, you’ll always find ‘friendly’ assistance, and despite this ultimately being a poorly attended friendly encounter, a man with an eye for a bit of business was on hand, offering at a premium, obviously, to transfer a Passolig to me for this one game. One more fly in the ointment was having left my passport back in the hotel, but merely a photo of the document would do. A call, a photo sent, with the merest opening of data to receive, and it was game on. A price was negotiated, a photo was taken, as well as passport details passed on, and ten minutes later I had my ticket, albeit having been squeezed for another 100 lira because of the Passolig. He knew the operational process from the start, but this businessman turned cowboy was out for an extra fleecing! I didn’t mind, I was just delighted to be getting the opportunity to sample a Turkish game, my 31st country where I have seen at least one game.
We had already been in Istanbul for 8 days, and this had afforded plenty of time to get familiar with a lot of the amazing sights of this very interesting city. It is truly where the West meets East, and the sheer variety of different corners of the world amongst the visitors must be like no other city. Indeed, amongst the first questions the very forward shop owners, and restaurant staff asked is, “where are you from”. It is a way of showing interest, but also a way of getting you to stop and peruse the goods or menu. Istanbul and the surrounding suburbs has a population of 25 million, making it the 4th biggest city in the world. It really has a huge traffic issue, and hitting the road at the wrong time of day can lead to lengthy delays. Thankfully most cab drivers want to negotiate a fixed price, probably higher even than if the meter was running, but at least if you get stuck on a slow moving motorway for up to an hour, you know the bill is fixed.
On the two major travels by cab through the city that we undertook were to shopping malls, one was in Europe, and one across the Bosphorus in Asia, which was reached via an undersea tunnel, we saw the stadiums of Besiktas’s rivals Galatasaray and Fenerbahce. The Galata Tower is one of the iconic sights in the city, and this central area near the Golden Horn is the spiritual home of Galatasaray, but the club have moved significantly out of the centre, with the stadium more than 13 kilometres from this area now. If you are ever heading to watch a game there, just go for the game, as it is merely sandwiched between a busy motorway and huge skyscraper buildings, seemingly mostly business offices, and there is nothing to see or do, eat or drink in the vicinity.
By contrast, Besiktas are still in the centre of the city, and the stadium has a wonderful position just across from both the Dolmabahce Palace and the Bosphorus river. The surrounding area is seriously steep hills (a common theme throughout the city), but the Inonu Stadium, now Vodafone Park has been hewn out of the hillside, leaving the far end of ground significantly below the road level, and even the nearby hotel’s and buildings appear even more towering than the reality. The river end of the stadium has grand sweeping steps up to an impressive entrance, complete with a life like eagle crest above the vast doors. Even if there is no game, the club museum and shop are always available.
Besiktas have a fine history, and courtesy of reading Welcome to Hell, like the author John, I became more inclined to cheer for the “Kara Kartallar” (the Black Eagles) over any of the other big Istanbul trio, albeit I was drawn to them purely through his fine words. I know he was drawn to them by virtue of the club and its fans appearing to be more societally aware. I liked that aspect, however given my predominant attraction to the underdog, all three of the giants would be too big for me! If I ever lived in Istanbul, probably someone like the club from Eyup, a district up the coastal waters in the Golden Horn area of the city would more likely become my team, as well as doubtlessly already attracting a Yorkshire support! Eyupspor were one of the two 10,30am visitors to the second tier games that I passed up on, and therefore I suspect they’ll probably have to wait forever for my support!
The Besiktas museum proudly tells the club story, from those who started the club back in 1903 to the considerations put into modernising the stadium, and oh boy what a magnificent job they have done. Besiktas have 21 league titles to their name, 16 under the modern Turkish Super Liga name, where on one of these occasions they went unbeaten for the season, the only time in Turkish football history this has happened. They also concluded their Centenary season by winning the league, something they are rightly proud of doing. The museum also celebrates the many big name clubs that Besiktas have played in European competition, and while (whisper it quietly in these parts), Galatasaray are the only Turkish club to win a European competition, the “siyah beyazlilar” (black and whites) have beaten some top sides here, with the beating of Liverpool especially celebrated in the museum.
With Vodafone Park being just a few minutes walk from the end of a tram line that I could easily pick up 6 stops nearer our hotel, it was both unusual, and a very relaxed feeling stepping onto a tram just an hour ahead of kick off. In hindsight, even that was potentially too early for a mid-season friendly as I was heading into the stadium 40 minutes before the start. Being a little early meant that the police and stewards had very little to do, so why not not frisk and search the poor sod in front of you somewhat excessively, and why not do it at three different checkpoints as you edge closer to the seating areas. The last lad went too far, my mini umbrella, taken just in case as rain had been in the vicinity all day, and my pack of Polo’s, were both okay, but my pen, well that was an offensive weapon and immediately taken from me and thrown in a bin. However, his sloppy search of my bag meant he’d left a similar pen still tucked away in the bottom of the side pocket.
There was no official crowd given, but I would estimate no more than 3,000 in a 42,500 capacity venue were inattendance, but the security was over the top, with 200 plus stewards I counted and the 300 plus police, some slumped on their riot shields asleep in the foyer at half time as I witnessed. What did they really expect of this sleepy friendly? There was very often on our travels in the city this idea of, why employ just two to do anything when 6 or 10 would be better. We were regularly treated to views of roof repair gangs on other hotels near ours, where the work would have been a two man job elsewhere. We had encountered a fairly significant earthquake while we were there, and potentially these repairs were a legacy of that significant minute or so of everything shaking. A lot of buildings in the Sultanahmed area are wooden structure and quite old.
At half-time, I fancied a beer, and while alcohol is not as restricted as Qatar, it was not available in the stadium. I had clocked this from the catering list, thus saving myself the embarrassment of asking at the counter. There might have only been a miniscule support, but the curiously fractionalised singing groups were dotted in a variety of locations, resulting in the endless cacophony of chants coming from all sides. The near empty bowl of the stadium fairly made the noise ricochet around, which created quite an atmosphere. Besiktas can be proud of their stadium, it is an absolutely wonderful venue. The swirl of spotlights along the roof edge, rather than floodlights, means evening photos are better too. Their reward for buffing the stadium so beautifully was being awarded the 2019 UEFA Super Cup.
The game as you’d expect wasn’t a classic, but a strong Besiktas team were a constant threat to a more defensive visitor in fellow Super Lig outfit, İstanbulspor. A Scottish journalist of great repute from yesteryear, dear old Bob Crampsey, once described the difficulty of breaking down the Iceland U21’s at Love Street as, “never easy to find a way through strategically placed dustbins”. A harsh assessment even for San Marino, let alone Iceland of their amateur era, but Istanbulspor were set up to contain largely, and this quote came to mind. Besiktas were finding it difficult testing the keeper courtesy of the oppositions obdurate, but fine defending. The home side had two Englishmen in the side Nathan Redmond and Dele Alli, with the former a real live wire in the first half, and it was his seriously deflected shot that finally broke the deadlock. This brought an immediate change in attitude from the visitors, and they could play, forcing mild panic and some corners ahead of the break. However, following a calamitous opening five minutes to the second period, where they shipped three more goals, the six İstanbulspor fans present had seen enough and left. The third of this wee rash of strikes, the fourth of the game, was a really impressive team passing goal, finished brilliantly by Dele Alli. The rest of the game became a stop, start substitution fest with Besiktas gradually changing the entire team. There would be no more goals and little in the way of goalmouth excitement thereafter.
It was a very interesting experience, and if I ever find myself back in Istanbul, seeing a proper league match with a raucous crowd in Besiktas stadium would be quite a thing. As it was, 35 minutes after the full time whistle I was back in the hotel room, adding further credence to both the notion of the excellent tram service, as well as the proximity of the Besiktas stadium to Sultanahmet, the old town, and main tourist hub of this vast city.
Football Adventures with James Rendall 