Turkish Delight

The Turks celebrate a magnificent victory as the Czech players are in disbelief.

We travelled from Montreux on the 11:53 train to Geneve, switching platforms in Lucerne in the way. The relaxing day in Montreux before had acted to eager our anticipation of the trip to Geneva and what sights lay ahead of us.  The train trip was literally on the shore of Lake Geneva, and myself, my father and our friend Tommo sat and gazed out of the window as yet another French speedboat buzzed by.

More football fans boarded the train at Lucerne as we began to feel the excitement building. We approached a group of Czech Republic fans at platform four. They greeted as and we chatted to them in their broken english. The first topic of conversation was how we were all going to get tickets. Crazy, ridiculous prices were being mentioned, 500 euros? Are you serious?  We were not happy after this discussion, it would seriously eat into our budget for the rest of the trip.

As the train rattled through tunnel after tunnel as we carved our way through the slanted towering chunks of rock, we got some better news from a ‘contact’ back home. Some English ticket scalpers were working Geneva that day, we had a hope of getting into the dream game.

A sea of red awaited us as we moved out of the main train station. The streets were alive with banging drums, wailing Turks and drunken Czech’s in a very strange bar which was actually an Island. How they got there I do not know! All day we sang and danced with the huge Turkish contingent, drank in small bars and soaked up the intense atmosphere which was building.

We managed to get some tickets in a very secret encounter with a very shady but friendly ticket tout from London, who gave us his business card which read “John” and had his mobile number on it. That’s all we needed to know. We headed to the game, we were squeezed in like sardines on the train. Sweaty Turks surrounded us, the songs and chants grew louder as the lights of the Stade de Geneve became visible. Euro 2008 was upon me, the sights and smells were there, now bring on the football.

There was something about this game, the whole atmosphere was electric underneath this clammy and humid Alpine sky. Something big was going to happen, I could sense it but didn’t know want to jinx it and say it to anyone. How right my assumption was.

We looked around in disarray as a Turkish man kissed me and we could not believe what was happening. Czech Republic were winning 2-0 with 15minutes left, then Turkey pulled a goal back before Nihat struck twice in the final 2 minutes to make it 3-2. We had just witnessed the game of the tournament, I was content to board the plane back to London. The noise at the final whistle was like a fighter jet repeatedly taking off, and it just got louder and louder, the stands were shaking with delight.

Something special was stirring in the air even before kick off at the Stade de Geneve.

The Turkish fan sat next to me that I had been conversing with through hand motions and pointing during the game was in tears, even though we couldn’t speak each others language, we made a strong connection. This was thanks to football, all around me Turkish felt delight. The Czech’s despair.