作者footballitis (加加加!!范范范!!)
看板ManUtd
標題本期United專題:加拉塔薩雷地獄主場回憶錄(原文版)
時間Fri Nov 7 22:39:24 2003
這個回憶錄,相信看曼聯看了有十年的朋友會很有感覺...
我身為資淺球迷,看到這篇文時真的很震撼,也才真的理解到"地獄主場"的可怕,
(雖然去年巴薩主場的那顆豬頭我仍記憶猶新...)
當年勇敢身陷敵營的球迷們...我在此向你們致敬~~
以下是此篇文章的原文部份,
我今天很累,所以日後再分段翻譯,就請大家先姑且看看原文的吧!
來自United雜誌
The Longest Days
~ It's a decade since United played Galatasaray away on a trip still
infamous for the rough justice dished out to United players and fans alike.
Andy Mitten, one of the 164 United fans to be deported from Turkey, remembers
the experience. Any England fans thinking of travelling to Istanbul this month
are best advised not to read on...~
"To this day it's the most hostile atmosphere that I've ever known." said Gary
Neville recently when asked to comment on United's journey to Istanbul in 1993.
"We walked out into the stadium to the most incredible noise I'd experienced
in my life. I was only a young lad, but I probably learned more in ten minutes
that night than I had in two years playing for United's reserves."
Neville's comments were reflected by his United teammates who travelled to the
notorious Ali Sami Yen stadium for a European Cup second leg tie. After a 3-3
draw at home in the first leg -- a game notable for Peter Schmeichel accosting
a protesting Kurdish student burning a Turkish flag. United effectively needed
to win the away game to progress to the Champions League stage. It was always
going to be tough, but few realised just how tough.
Hundreds of feverish Galatasaray fans were waiting to greet the United party
when they landed the day before the game, and they weren't there to request
autograph. When the players walked into the arrivals hall they were greeted
by banners saying:"Welcome to Hell" and shouts of "No way out". The Turkish
fans also smashed bottles and tried to rock the players' coach before the
police took control. If they were intimidated, the players didn't show it
as they smiled, albeit nervously, before being transported to their luxury
hotel.
Around 1,500 United fans travelled to Istanbul, a vast and chaotic sprawl that
bridges Eurpoe and Asia, and our group of 200 arrived a couple of hours after
the players. Interestingly, the Galatasaray fans and their banners had
disappeared with the TV cameras for whom they'd put on the charade.
We were taken to the three-star hotel Tansa, located in a rough inner city
neighbourhood of tight streets with tatty blocks of flats canyoning
steeply either side. Straight away, I began to feel uneasy. The coach couldn't
get to the hotel and we had to walk the final few metres, attracting attention
as locals stared at us from the balconies above. It was unnerving. Still, that
afternoon we were given a city tour and were treated like wealthy tourists.
Our excursion crossed into Asia where we saw belly dancers and ate well. After
returning to the hotel around 6pm, about 30 of us went to a nearby bar to
watch a Cup Winners' Cup game between Ajax Amesterdam and Istanbul's third
team, Besiktas. The atmosphere was raucous, but no different to any other
European trip and we got on well with the locals. Towards the end of the game,
the mood began to darken. Word had got around that there was a group of
"Manchester" nearby and gaggles of locals began to loiter outside. They began
singing and gesticulating before a glass was thrown inside our bar. They
wanted trouble, and while some United fans were prepared to grant them their
wish, others were more restrained. Maybe they had seen 'Midnight Express'?
Around 20 police arrived and suggested that it would be best for us to go back
to our hotel. We left the bar surrounded by a line of police protecting us
from a mob of baying locals now about 100-strong. The police escort started,
but they struggled to contain the agitators. Objects were thrown at us, both
from behind the police lines and from the flats above. The walk turned into
a nervy jog. The Turks were chanting:"Cin Bom Bom"- the chants of Galatasaray.
It was dark, the noise was getting louder, the streets tighter. I was
frightened, more so when I looked ahead. There, I could see a big group of
locals between us and the hotel. I thought we were going to get pincered.
Then I got a big whack on my head whick knocked me to the ground. "I've been
hit by a brick," I shouted. My roommate Grant replied:" It was a watermelon
you div." I wasn't used to distinguishing between being hit by either. By now,
the police had lost control and with the hotel 50 metres ahead, the jog turned
into a dash for the doors. Some suffered a worse fate than being hit by a
watermelon and while I was relieved to get back to the hotel, a scene of utter
madness was developing there. One lad was carried into the reception with blood
all over him, his girlfriend screaming that he was dead. He was put into a
police car and taken to hospital. Bricks and bottles were thrown from outside
and there wasn't a window left unbroken in the hotel after a few minutes.
Everyone was hyper, especially a few of the angrier United lads, buzzing at
the scenes of mayhem unfolding. Some of them picked up chairs and ran straight
into the mob of Turks who were trying to storm our hotel from outside.
I went up to 'the safety' of my room on the fourth floor. Entering the room,
I switched the light on and a brick duly came crashing through the window
and landed by my bed. It was becoming very, very scary. The sound of three
gun shots followed. Paranoid, I thought that they were trying to shoot us and
moved into the bathroom for protection.
~to be continued~
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