Anadolu Bağcilar v Van Büyükşehir Belediyespor
Bayrampaşa v Orhangazispor
Siirt İstanbul Yavuz Selim Okulu v Kocasinan
Halide Edip Adivar SK v 12 Bingöl Spor
Next morning and we awoke to the searing heat of a bustling central Istanbul. Except we didn't. The line into the centre is currently being rebuilt as part of the Marmaray project to give fundamentalists more terrorist targets, with public transport playing its part by constructing a tunnel under the Bosphorus to connect Europe and Asia, and also the two parts of the city. This means we were dumped at Halkalı, a desolate wind and rain swept platform right on the eastern outskirts of the city. Imagine if the Eurostar terminating at Tilbury.
Our venture to take in the classic Turkish diesels wasn't off to the best of start, with haulage since the border being an E68, which is one of a class of 70 ordered from Rotem, the railway part of Hyundai. At least getting the class leader, 68001, meant we got one of the eight that were built in Korea, rather than the other 62 which were bolted together by TCDD in Eskişehir.
Though there was still some rateable attraction about.
The railway are good enough to put on a connecting bus into the centre. Ciaran keeping a watchful eye out for any follow up moves from border police.
The jaunt into the centre runs right along the shore line, with the Bosphorus strait just being a mass of moored up coastal vessels. Depicting this with a photo that only shows one doesn't really prove that point, but I am sure this will be exactly what the bustling fringes of Newhaven will look like post-Brexit, when the lack of trade agreements and the pound not being worth the plastic it is written on, will make the south coast the world centre for the distribution of MDF pellets, or some such financial cash cow.
Anyway, it was the usual Bullseye moment with rail replacement transport as it dropped us at Sirkeci station, where we got to see what we could have won...
..ie. The exact train we should have travelled on in a quarter of the time, was sat stabled in the platform.
My locality for the last fifteen years has been the Manchester Road area of Swindon. Almost exclusively, the demographic of this area is:-
- Prostitutes
- Taxi drivers attempting to murder prostitutes
- Turks
This means that the commerce down the road is either 24hr convenience stores just selling condoms and lube, or else it is Turkish cafes. Therefore, I have detailed knowledge of Turkish dining habits, which is basically they only ever eat off cuts of doner meat with rice, and are permanently drinking weak black tea in a Pyrex mug, with enough sugar in it that the very slender accompanying spoon stands directly upright in it.
By now it was 0800 and we were starving. So we went to a nearby cafe and ordered what was described as a 'Turkish breakfast'. Needless to say, this was off cuts of doner meat with rice, and accompanied by weak black tea in a Pyrex mug, with enough sugar in it that the very slender accompanying spoon stands directly upright in it.
With the Eurasian/student breakfast over, we dropped off stuff at the hotel who didn't seemed at all perturbed about us checking in eight hours early. Which was handy as I could now get in five games of football across the city over the course of the city. So it was down to the recently expanded metro system, although my journey was on the original 1989 M1 route. However, recent terrorist activity in the city has meant there is full airport style security screening at each station, with metal detectors for bags, and even the presence of some very uninterested shoe and belt police.
My games were ordered around a route coming in from the north west of the city, the first game being midway to the outskirts. What I hadn't factored for was the size of the city and the frequency of stops making it a 70 minute journey. Eventually the destination station was reached, the entrance being marked by a building that looks even more like a cock and balls than the infamous Goole AFC water tower.
Which led me out into the delights of suburban Istanbul. It might look a bit shit, but it's no Stockswood.
I spied my first ground, which appeared to be accessed via a lorry park. However, halfway across said park, I was alerted to the clanking of a steadily unfurling chain, which was accompanied by the increasingly looming presence of a large, manly, frothing dog, bearing its teeth in a manner that suggested it wasn't about to discuss the relative prospects of Gençlerbirliği in this years Süper Lig. I hastily set off, wondering how long a chain can possibly be. The answer is that the Turks don't comply to standard British railway measures of a chain as being 22 yards, as I was quite a way into the next street before a loud clank alerted me to the rabid mongrel thankfully being subjected to the recoil action of eighty odd foot of linkages, as it was fired back into an upended wheels bin. The dog heads off behind said bin, with the both of us unsure of who the victor was. His canine companion on the left has a more sedate approach to haulage security.
So instead a more mainstream approach to the ground was found.
Which despite being at the fourth level, had still attracted the attention of the purveyors of half and half scarves, proving that being a wanker is not contained by country borders or relative levels of football.
However, what appeared to be the main stand was hosting the sort of hostile immobile shouting scrumfest that occupies 90% of a rugby union game.
Not particularly keen to join, I had a peak through the fence to confirm that there was indeed a game on.
A further walk round and I arrived at an altogether more sedate entrance.
Anadolu Bağcilar 1 v Van Büyükşehir Belediyespor 2, TFF 3 Lig - Group 2
Anadolu Bağcilar are actually from Üsküdar, a district in the Asian half of Istanbul. However, their own Vefa stadium doesn't mean requirements (it must be bad) so they have to play across the water here instead. The club were founded in 1908, which is apparently where their recorded history ends, except to say that the wrestling team has now been disbanded, which was of obvious disappointment.
Van is located right on the other side of Turkey, so is a hell of a slog for fourth tier football. Its location means it has a large Kurdish population, and a history of being fought over by the Turks, Iranians and Armenians. There have been a succession of football clubs in the town, with Van Büyükşehir Belediyespor emerging in 1982. The demise of top level side Vanspor saw them become the leading side, with a significant rise in support. However, they could have the most rich and long history of any club, but when you have a badge like this, that is all that anyone is interested in. So, a sinister looking cat in an ill fitting bow tie, waves very camply at you whilst walking on water.
They perhaps need more creativity when choosing an away kit.
The Mahmutbey Stadium was originally opened in 1992, and was then renovated in 2013, with a 3g pitch and the addition of such luxury as player's tunnel. The main feature is this 2,500 seat stand, with a centre gable offering a welcome feature to the normal modern cantilever.
However, it was all getting a bit heated between the away supporters and the security/police. Kick off time came and went, and with no sign of the game starting or it being a particular welcoming atmosphere, I decided to head off. So it was back to the metro, another contest with the shoe and belt police, and another long slog on the Metro took me here.
The next game was in a more suburban area, which took me through some textbook Istanbul traffic gridlock and car horn blaring, not seen in England unless we get to the quarter final of a major football tournament.
Bayrampaşa is very much a working class district of Istanbul, with large sections of Albanian and Bosnian migrants. The area grew up as the regional centre for artichoke growing and processing, whatever you might process an artichoke into. I kept following the car horns, like an ultrasound pied piper.
But it did lead me to here.
The game was already underway, and I was able to get a shot of it through the fence, though the railings were slightly intrusive. See if you can spot them.
Fortunately, a local youth spotted my plight and relieved me of my camera, promptly shinning up the adjacent floodlight pylon, onto the roof of an electrical substation, to get this photo for me. You would have thought if he'd gone to that much effort, he'd have at least bothered with the photography rule of thirds.
Rather uniquely, the entrance to the ground doubled as the local market, and they were no longer letting anyone through it into the game. Therefore, plan B was enacted which involved standing near to the ambulance crew at the emergency exit, asking them a few questions in English that even I didn't understand, and after a while, walking on into the ground.
Bayrampaşa 0 v Orhangazispor 0, TFF 3 Lig - Group 1
Sağmalcılar Youth Sports Club, were formed in 1942, becoming the present Bayrampaşa Youth Sports Club in 1959, becoming perhaps the only football club to change its name because the previous one had become notorious for outbreaks of cholera due to poor water supply. The club have largely played in the third division, but a spell back in the amateur leagues has been followed by a rising up to the 2 lig before relegation back tot he third..
Orhangazispor are from Bursa, the fourth largest city in Turkey with a population of almost two million. There is a top flight club in the city. Orhangazi Belediyespor were formed in 1982 and recent success has seen promotion up to league three for this season.
Çetin Emec Stadium is a stadium located in
The Bayrampaşa stadium was opened in 1972, but was renamed after author Çetin Emeç. The pitch was sand based, but in 2012 major reconstruction took place. This resulted in a grass pitch, but also the stands were knocked down as they had been damaged by an earth tremor.
A single 2,000 seater, quake proof stand was built, and this is the only structure at the ground now.
The next move was very tight and a bit of a walk. However, the passing of Istanbul's most dangerous looking taxi, based on both roadworthiness and driving style, was to good an opportunity to miss, so it was flagged for the white knuckle ride. Except it became apparent the driver didn't know where he was going, so pulled up to ask directions. Except it was less of a 'pull up', and more a 20mph mounting of a busy pavement. Various shouting at startled pedestrians did not result in the required knowledge, so off he hurtled into a branch of fake Lidl. For quite some time. In fact, after five minutes of waiting, and with me having easily reached the ground by now if I'd have walked, I was fed up of being stared at by bewildered pedestrians making the detour around me, and I got out and walked, with still no sign of the driver.
The next side Street revealed whistles and shouting.
And indeed a football ground.
No lesser home of Kastamonuspor, which was of initial concern as I was looking for Halide Edip Adivar, but it seems that no Istanbul actually plays at its own ground.
Siirt İstanbul Yavuz Selim Okulu 1 v Kocasinan 0, Süper Amatör Lig - 5 GRUP
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So I made my way into the ground, only to find that it appeared to be half time. Enquiring with some fellow spectators, they revealed that this was actually Siirtspor v Kocasinan, so I was at completely the wrong ground.
So a mad dash through a few more side streets was halted only to admire this beauty of a Cortina.
Şişli was previously a very affluent area of Istanbul, but as the city expanded, the wealthy traders moved much further out of the city. The large residences they left behind became ideal for mass occupation by migrants arriving in the city, and it is now a very diverse neighbourhood. But a low wall with a line up of blokes slumped over it, revealed this paradise below.
Moving towards the other end revealed yet more beauty, in fact the only thing that could make it more perfect would be an entrance.
If ever there was a requirement for using the word 'understated', this was it.
Halide Edip Adivar SK 0 v 12 Bingöl Spor 1, TFF 3 Lig - Group 1
Halide Edip Adivar Sports Club were established in the 1990s, but the current set up derives from a merger with "Kasımpaşa Harb-Is Dikimevi" in 2004. Halide Edip Adivar are one of the few to be named after their country's leading early 20th female nationalist and women's rights campaigner. They have had a steady rise up from the amateur leagues to 3 Lig.
Bingöl is a town in the far reaches of Eastern Turkey, making this a lovely 1500km journey for fourth level football. It's name translates very poetically as 'a thousand lakes', which whilst being a rough estimate, does reflect its location amongst glacial deposits. The football club was established in 2012 as Çapakçurspor, playing in the excellently titled Bingöl 1st Amateur League. The demise of the city's main side, Municipality Bingölspor, saw a name change to take on the mantle of the leading club. This has seen a rise up to the national leagues and are currently at 3 lig level.
But what an absolutely stunner of a ground this was, matched by its history. Like many football grounds, it started out as a 3rd century Byzantine open reservoir, known as the Cistern of Aetius. After the 15th century fall of Constantinople it became a sunken vegetable garden, the Çukurbostan; "hollow garden". The 1920s saw it converted to a sports ground, and its present state dates from a 2007 renovation.
Below the road and large retaining wall was this main stand, where spectators were restricted to.
The opposite touch line being the cliff face of the reservoir walls, attoped by brightly coloured apartment blocks, and with some sort of central control area, draping the national flag.
Each end had a bank of unused open seating and a club house.
The pitch was enclosed by a run track, which contained a whopping two lanes, although the widths of them seemed to vary at an alarming degree as it progressed around the ground.
A touch line view of proceedings.
The visitors then took a rather unexpected lead.
Which resulted in one of those much loved continental footballing rituals; the banging of the Perspex. You have to give credit to those swarthy foreigners, when it comes to open palmed smacks on clear plastic, they can teach dear old Blighty a lesson or two.
The great thing about this ground was that I could get a clear idea of how high my beloved vertical toe ended defensive clearances were going, as they could be measured against the thirty foot cliff face and storeys of the low relief buildings. This one was a stunning cliff + 3.5 floors.
I don't know what the Turkish for 'these fuckers couldn't score if we played on until the next random renaming of the city' is, but I now have a rough idea as the home side contrived to really ineptly miss a succession of laboured chances.
The game finishing 0-1, with various degrees of histrionics from the home players as to how much it meant to them.
I exited with the masses.
With another admiring moment with the 'sporty Corty'.
Where some sort of public transport dungeon was finally reached.
The lack of shoe and belt police signifying it was the tram.
This was taken over to the Kabataş tram terminus.
With Ciaran rejoining me from another continent via a much envied funicular and ferry move.
And together we made our way here.
Which is here for the uninitiated.
Do I have to spell my it out for you?
However, previous assurances that tickets were available on the gate did not transpire to be the case, only 300 Euro VIP tickets. Similarly, the very obliging tout was keen for the bargain deal of us swapping our passports for 20 Euro tickets, which Ciaran did actually seem to be contemplating.
Instead, we made our way to the Galata bridge, where we watched the game in the restaurants on the lower deck, with a meal of, well of course, off cuts of doner meat with rice, and accompanied by weak black tea in a Pyrex mug, with enough sugar in it that the very slender accompanying spoon stands directly upright in it. Of equal interest are the scratch marks appearing to come off the top deck of the bridge. These are in fact fishing line of the plethora of anglers who were bait fishing.
With the conclusion of a lively 2-2 draw, it was a tram and metro move back to the hotel, ready for the next days transcontinental adventure.
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