Turkish Passion

It is with a heavy heart that I let you know that The Turk is a futbol hooligan.  Futbol or more eloquently known by us Australians as “soccer” is the primary sport in Turkey.  The Turk was ecstatic last year as our local team, Mersin, was in A League which meant of course that he could go and watch the big teams Fenerbache, Besiktas or Galatasaray.  Unfortunately for him Mersin dropped to the bottom of the table by the end of the season and fallen back to B League which brought howls from The Turk of the mistreatment done to him personally by their inability to keep above the red line.

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Since arriving The Turk has had LigTV installed and now weekends are centred on the television where The Turk can be found with his brothers and friends yelling or cheering as each situation presents itself.  The referee may be their best friend or worst enemy and each member of his team are champions amongst men or the dog shit that is currently being scraped off your shoe. 

Back in Australia I did not realise the extent of his crazy.  In Australia I did not see it but here, surrounded by his little gang he morphs into an absolute nutball.  His team, Fenerbache, is, as far as he is concerned, the closest thing to an almighty power, more amazing than the late Michael Jackson and, oh I don’t know, more sexy than Beyonce.  His behaviour is, to be honest, a little fucking crazy.  God help us, if they fell off the top of the league table, I will no doubt have to take a new name and run for the hills. 

A couple of weeks back Fenerbache played “the battle of the titans” – this was the heading in the newspaper – their most hated rival Trabzonspor.  The match was probably 30 minutes in when all hell broke loose.  Bottles, concrete (yes really concrete), smoke bombs, chairs and whatever else was lying around was thrown onto the field.  The referee had to cancel the match and awarded the 3 points to Fenerbache.  I sat watching the match with The Turk who spent the whole time screaming at the television, threatening the television (making me thankful that it is attached to the entertainment unit) and standing on the balcony yelling to his brothers (in case they were unaware of the travesty that was taking place).  Ridiculous, rabble mentality.

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Futbol really does bring the crazy out in the Turkish people – which is great to watch but perhaps not something I want to be in the middle of.

If winning isn’t everything why do they keep score?

8 thoughts on “Turkish Passion

  1. Our entire family are Fenerbahçelites, except for my brother-in-law who is with Galatasaray! My father-in-law took years to forgive him.

    Father-in-law is Fener mad; only uses their credit card, wears all the stuff, has their towel, boxers, dressing gown, watches every single FB match on TV (soccer, as well as both men’s and women’s volleyball), and he listens to radio commentary if no TV available, then buys 4 sports papers EVERY day to read all about what he just watched…. and he is 76.

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  2. My Dad loved to watch the football on the telly. The whole house would have to pay homage to The Great Box because 22 men were chasing a ball and hoping to kick it between the two posts either end. He’d shout at the officials too, louder and louder when the linesmen and ref wouldn’t heed his expert advice.
    I dated a guy who played on Sunday mornings. I stood on the touch line, freezing off my assets, screaming support for the home team. The bastard ditched me for a previous girlfriend who DIDN’T LIKE FOOTBALL.
    I also dated a guy who liked to watch rugby. Now that was much more interesting, all those bums in a scrum, and watched from the comfort of an armchair and cuppa to hand.
    We went to Twickers once and were wearing the wrong colours at our end. So we put our scarves away and kept quiet (hard to cheer quietly, though sadly his side lost). I dumped him because he was more interested in the guys than the game.

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  3. Pingback: Sampiyon Fenerbahçe | janeyinmersin

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