Tag: Carsi

  • Sport overcomes politics as Turkey hosts Israelis amid rising tensions

    Sport overcomes politics as Turkey hosts Israelis amid rising tensions

    By Ben Hartman, for CNN
    September 22, 2011 — Updated 1159 GMT (1959 HKT)

    110921022507 besiktas carsi tattoo horizontal gallery
    A Besiktas fan shows a tattoo which reads “Carsi” — the name of the club’s most famous supporters’ club.

    STORY HIGHLIGHTS
    • Clash between football teams from Turkey and Israeli passes peacefully in Istanbul
    • There had been fears that Maccabi Tel Aviv’s players and fans would be attacked
    • Besiktas supporters insist they have no problem with Israelis, but wanted to win
    • Just a dozen Maccabi fans attended the match, played amid rising political tension

    Istanbul, Turkey (CNN) — They traveled to Istanbul amid fears that mob violence might erupt as relations between two once-friendly nations turned ugly.

    But if Maccabi Tel Aviv and the Israeli club’s supporters received any trouble from the people of Turkey last week, it was only on the football pitch.

    After a 5-1 trouncing at the hands of Istanbul’s Besiktas, Maccabi safely returned to Tel Aviv the next day as concerns that the team and its fans would be in danger proved unfounded.

    The Europa League match appeared to be a perfect convergence of sports and politics, coming as relations between Israel and Turkey reached an all-time low.

    Less than two weeks before the match, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan expelled the Israeli ambassador over the Middle Eastern country’s refusal to apologize for a naval commando raid on the SS Mavi Marmara, on which nine Turkish activists were killed as they made their way to the blockaded Gaza Strip.

    Days later, Turkey broke off military ties with Israel — and Jerusalem announced the formation of a naval alliance with Greece, Turkey’s historical enemy.

    Erdogan has since threatened to deploy Turkish warships to escort the next Gaza Flotilla and to increase Turkish naval presence in the Eastern Mediterranean to counter Israeli “bullying practices” in the area.

    Turkey quickly became a state where Israelis no longer feel welcome, just as Maccabi Tel Aviv headed to Istanbul for a match against a team renowned for having some of the wildest fans in Turkish soccer.

    Elif Batuman, a regular contributor to The New Yorker and a writer-in-residence at Koc University, described the Besiktas squad as “the more working-class team.”

    “Of the three main Istanbul teams, Besiktas is kind of the underdog. They have the least money, the most run-down stadium,” she said.

    “With the other two big Istanbul teams (Galatasaray and Fenerbahce), the stadiums don’t have any particular ties to their neighborhoods, and the fan bases are more spread out. They call themselves the neighborhood team, the people’s team.”

    Ahead of a talk on Turkish soccer at an art gallery in central Istanbul the day before the match, Batuman described Besiktas supporters as being tied not only to the neighborhood but also, to some extent, to a political way of life.

    Israel isn’t our problem, it’s the country’s problem. Every Besiktas game is crazy
    Kemal Yuksel

    “They’re the most political of the soccer teams: they support Greenpeace, they do blood drives, they’re environmentalists. They’re definitely not pro-American, the ones I’ve talked to, but they say they don’t dislike Americans, only American policy. They are also definitely not pro-Israel and they support the Palestinians.”

    He said the match against Maccabi, the most successful club in Israel, was “clearly seen as a rallying event.”

    The Israeli media aired reports that Maccabi players who serve in the Israel Defense Forces reserves were banned from taking part in the game out of fear for their safety. The report turned out to be false, but was in keeping with a general sense in Israel that the team was heading straight into the lion’s den at the worst possible moment, prompting calls for the game to be canceled or forfeited.

    By mid-afternoon on Thursday, Besiktas fans began pouring into a square in the heart of their neighborhood, a short walk from the stadium. Cheering and downing copious amounts of Efes Pilsen beer, they locked arms and sang about the evils of the hated Fenerbahce and the beauty of all that is Besiktas.

    Those Besiktas supporters spoken to at the pre-game drink-up did not appear to have the Gaza Strip or the Mavi Marmara on their minds, and were completely indifferent to the presence of an Israeli reporter scribbling on a notepad in their midst.

    They’re the most political of the soccer teams: they support Greenpeace, they do blood drives, they’re environmentalists
    Elif Batuman on Besiktas fans

    “We hate Fenerbahce, not Israel,” said Kazim, a student from Yildiz Technical University in Istanbul, who also said he did not believe the war of words between the Turkish PM and Netanyahu gave the game any extra meaning.

    Kemal Yuksel, a student at the Istanbul Technical University said the Besiktas fans are “just interested in football, not politics.”

    “We live for Besiktas and it doesn’t matter what country you’re from — we want to beat you,” he said. “Israel isn’t our problem, it’s the country’s problem. Every Besiktas game is crazy, doesn’t matter if we play Maccabi or anyone else.”

    At the same time that the Besiktas fans were pounding pre-game lagers, a crowd of around 200 people marched from Taksim Square in central Istanbul to the Inonu stadium, vowing not to forget or forgive the Mavi Marmara incident. Wearing t-shirts emblazoned with the pictures of the nine Turkish activists and with some protesters carrying flags of the Lebanese Shi’ite militia Hezbollah, they made their way towards the stadium without arrest or incident.

    The protest was a repeat of sorts of a smaller gathering held the night before outside the Divan hotel where the Maccabi players were staying. A crowd of about 20 people waving Palestinian flags stood in silence across from the hotel for a couple of hours before filing away into the night.

    Meanwhile, a block further down the street past the Divan hotel, three street-walkers of unclear gender plied their wares, drawing slightly more interest from passersby than the nearby anti-Israel protest.

    We told everyone we were Israeli. No-one gave us any trouble whatsoever
    Israel Mukhtar

    Like everywhere else the Maccabi players traveled during their visit, the Divan was under heavy police protection. Outside the hotel, two armored police vans were parked at the ready, with officers in front of the vehicles with sub-machine guns. Around a dozen other police officers stood in formation next to the vans, but were not wearing riot gear. Next to the vehicles, a police sedan idled, while a single officer napped in the front seat.

    The heightened security continued inside the stadium, where dozens of riot police circled the field and plainclothes police and security officials kept a constant watch on the event.

    Once the match kicked off, it took only three minutes for Besiktas forward Hugo Almeida to put his team on the board with the first of his two goals. Maccabi answered soon after halftime through forward Roi Kehane, but the visitors never threatened again and Besiktas rolled to a 5-1 victory before a raucous home crowd.

    The 12 hardy Maccabi Tel Aviv fans who attended the game, protected by at least 20 police per head, were seated in the fenced-off visitors’ section, which was book-ended on the left and right by two sections of empty seats patrolled by stadium security.

    One of those Israeli fans who made the trip to Istanbul was Israel Mukhtar, 45, who was in town on his first-ever trip abroad with the Maccabi squad.

    “We went all around the markets and the nightclubs [in Istanbul] and we told everyone we were Israeli. No-one gave us any trouble whatsoever,” Mukhtar said, adding “all of the security was well done and we never felt a threat for a second, I didn’t even see a single Palestinian flag.”

    Mukhtar and his friends, nearly all of whom were middle-aged men who seemed to know each other prior to the trip, said the danger inherent in the match was overblown by the Israeli media.

    They praised the professionalism of Turkish security forces, and expressed their feelings that the diplomatic tension between the two countries is on the upper levels of their respective government, and not reflected in a visceral hatred from people on the streets of Turkey’s largest city — as opposed to Cairo, for instance, where a mob ransacked the embassy a week earlier forcing the Israeli staff to flee in drag under evacuation by Egyptian commandos.

    Even with the final score of the match reflecting an on-field massacre of the Israeli visitors, Mukhtar said he was not disappointed by his decision to attend the match.

    “To be honest, it made me proud to be Israeli. To know that out of 6 million people (in Israel), you’re one of only 12 who was willing to come … I think it means something.”

    Ben Hartman is a reporter for the Jerusalem Post.

  • Besiktas fans reveal united front

    Besiktas fans reveal united front

    Carsi

    “Football isn’t just a sport. Nowadays it’s an industry,” says Besiktas fan Ozan Ilhan ahead of his side’s clash with Manchester United on Wednesday.

    The smallest of Turkey’s “big three”, Besiktas are seen in their country as the halk takim, the people’s team.

    The team’s fan base is traditionally more working-class and left-wing than those of rivals Galatasaray and Fenerbahce, and their supporters’ club, Carsi, takes this history to heart.

    Formed by six teenagers in 1980, Carsi is now a thousands-strong organisation that, unusually, marries fanaticism for the team with political causes.

    Ozan is a 24-year-old student who lives in the German city of Koblenz, and works in the city’s car industry.

    He is one of the 1,000 or so Carsi members making the trip to Manchester.

    “My wife cannot understand me,” he complains. “She says: ‘Why fly to Manchester for Besiktas? You can watch it at home on the television.’”

    They are coming from all over Europe – 150 from Germany, 50 from Holland, 50 from London – for a match they probably won’t win and, even if they do, has no bearing on them qualifying for the next stage.

    “Carsi is like a spirit,” says Devrim Borcek, another fan from Germany.

    “Those living in Istanbul are close to Besiktas. I’m living 3000km away but I have to live the same as these guys.”

    But this is more than an ordinary supporters’ club trip.

    Carsi is a hive of activity, both at matches and away from the stadium.

    It has a changing cast of members but, for the core, the group is central to their lives.

    Together they take part in Labour Day marches, do charity work, produce placards for matches, and even protest against government nuclear policy – or just meet up to drink and talk about football.

    Fans are introduced to ideas like anarchism and socialism that don’t get an airing in traditional media, let alone most football stadia.

    By contrast, the fans they will encounter on Wednesday have been dubbed the “prawn sandwich brigade” for their corporate approach to supporting a team.

    So how do Carsi members feel about Manchester United fans?

    Ozan respects United’s history and success, if not their fans’ style of support.

    “They are a good example of people who like the football industry, who like to go to the stadium, watch the match and go home,” he says.

    “That’s not the culture of Besiktas. We have to scream whether we win or lose – all that matters is the atmosphere, the expectation that you are not only there but you are living it.

    “I cannot imagine Besiktas like Manchester. It’s not possible and I don’t want it.”

    But they do want to be successful. Although winners of the Turkish league last year, Besiktas are currently at the bottom of Champions League group B, yet to win a European match this season.

    Those in charge need to decide whether triumph on the European stage can be achieved without diluting the club’s identity, in an age in which success increasingly depends on money.

    The club’s efforts to boost revenue have seen Carsi lose out.

    Ticket prices have increased year on year, making it harder for the traditional fanbase to attend.

    Seats in Carsi’s section for last Saturday’s derby against Fenerbahce cost 250 Lira (£100) – more than all but the most expensive tickets at Old Trafford.

    “The three big clubs in Turkey – Besiktas, Galatasaray, Fenerbahce – their presidents don’t want these fans in the stadium,” a Turkish journalist tells me.

    “Like in England, they want rich fans.”

    Where next for Carsi, then, if the club no longer wants them?

    The globalisation of the game has brought the group opportunities and threats in equal measure.

    Some members worry its 1980s collectivist ideology doesn’t resonate with younger fans in an era of multi-million pound transfers and instant success.

    But televised games, the internet and cheap European flights have brought more people into the Carsi fold.

    Widespread publicity means the movement has become a magnet for those disenchanted with “typical” football fans, or even Turkish society in general.

    They are fighting for a vision of what it means to be a fan – an all-consuming relationship with the club that they believe is alien to most in English football.

    And so to Old Trafford, the 76,000-capacity, all-seated cathedral for the modern game.

    “It will be a hard match, I think,” says Ozan.

    “Our chances aren’t good. But remember the match in 2003 against Chelsea, when nobody expected Besiktas to win. It was wonderful, so why not again?”

    BBC