Offsides; what about it?

I now live in a world where Futbal (er, soccer?) definitely sits alongside politics as a terribly flammable subject; the religious similarities are eery as well – ritual (chants), devotion (without a jersey, I stand aside, shunned, an outcast), fervency (the ‘seats’ act as boosters, and no one sits – ever), and extremism (this happened at the match the night after). And while Turkish fans aren’t quite as obsessed and compulsive as this, they're damn close. All that being said, when local teams Fenerbahçe and S.B. Elazigspor were set to square off this weekend, I figured it would easily fit under the category of ‘cultural experience.’ A few beers with the fellas and we hit the ferry for the Asian side where the match was to be held. Game on.

In the states, quite honestly, we suck at cheering for sports (American football might be the exception). Maybe the booze starts having the adverse effect by halftime, or maybe we’re not organized enough – either way, we don’t have fans who, I shit you not, don’t watch a single moment of the game in order to stand as hype men for different sections. My man in H18 belted out song after song from an endless bag, all while standing on a the concrete wall keeping him from falling into oblivion, and using the head of another man (voluntary or not, I wasn’t able to deduce) for a support for the entire match. It must have worked – I stood in complete awe at the sea of pumping arms, as droves of deafening cheer galloped around the stadium. To boot, whereas we might use whistles for applause, they use them here whenever they’re royally ticked off at something (referees, etc), and with thousands of people going shrill at once, the entire stadiums sounds like a hissing nest.

Despite the relative enthusiasm (the fans maintained their ne plus ultra decibel level until the very end), the match was hardly a thriller – home team Fenerbahçe went up two nill in the first ten minutes, and ultimately schooled S.B. 4-0. When the outcome became rather obvious, the crowd began to engage in a little ‘Futbal 101’ (as one friend put it): fighting. With each other, that is. Out of nowhere, men from my right, incensed and with rage in their eyes, began streaming toward the section to our left, pushing over one another in order to whip their fists and throw shouts into the expanse between the section on the left. We were informed the fight was political, and I only managed to snag a few seconds being urged to lower my camera phone…

While riot police kept the halftime bathroom melee in check, it was still nothing short of bizarre to witness fans who were in complete cheerleader sync (for the same team) with one another at one moment be viciously at each others throats the next. The incident stands as a testament to the current political climate – all it takes is a few of the wrong words to trip mayhem’s hair trigger, igniting genuine anger. And yet, considering that the next night’s match (Besiktas vs. Galatasaray, see link at top) ended early due to fans rushing the field and straight up brawling with one another, my previously looming ‘cultural experience’ feels rather quaint and tame after all.