I attended the first leg of the Final Four, which included the semifinal matchups. A university friend of mine from Canada, Yanni, called me out of the blue one day and said he wanted to come to Istanbul for the Final Four. I managed to get three tickets (thanks, İzzet). Yanni’s college friend from his freshman year at Michigan University, Uğur, also joined us. Our group was set. It turned out to be a pretty interesting evening for me.
Watching two full games back-to-back can get exhausting, but several elements made the night enjoyable. For starters, the Greek fans were worth checking out. Especially the Panathinaikos supporters sitting just above us—passionate, loud, and very familiar in their reactions (though, with me not knowing Greek, I can’t say if there was any foul language involved!). Their interactions with the Olympiakos fans across the arena were intense and often entertaining. The organizers had wisely placed these rival groups on opposite ends of the stadium to prevent physical contact, though we still witnessed a few verbal exchanges.
The Russian fans were also quite spirited—some even showed up in quirky outfits that added color to the night. The quietest fans by far were the Barcelonistas. They were few in number and not very vocal (or maybe we just couldn’t hear them over the Panathinaikos fans).
During halftime, we switched sections inside the arena. Since dinner wasn’t ready yet, we grabbed some snacks, mostly olives and green plums—from the concession stands. And that’s when things got amusing. Yanni, in a swift move, popped a plum into his mouth and instantly grimaced, asking, “What the heck is this?” I explained: “It’s a green plum. Not your typical sweet plum. You should eat it with salt.” I showed him how, and once he tried it salted, he admitted it was much better and kept going.
Soon, a few more foreign fans came over. Half-jokingly, I offered them some plums too. Predictably, each one made a sour face after their first bite. We all laughed. I gave them the same explanation: “This is not your average plum. Salt it first—only then does it makes sense. You won’t find these anywhere outside Türkiye.” The same scene repeated itself with two more groups of visiting fans.
The plum chatter abruptly ended when I spotted İbrahim Kutluay—a former star athlete whose skills and character I deeply admire, a true gentleman in every sense. We hadn’t seen each other in a while. I first met him 12 years ago in Çeşme, and even though we don’t see each other often, we’ve always had a warm rapport. For a while, when he was moving homes, we even lived on the same floor of Süzer Plaza.
After we said our hellos and he walked away, Yanni—being a huge Panathinaikos fan—asked, “Wasn’t that İbrahim Kutluay?” He went on to say how much Panathinaikos supporters loved him. Kutluay overheard this and, smiling, turned back to shake Yanni’s hand. It’s quite something when a Turkish player wins the hearts of one of Greece’s most passionate fanbases. Let’s not forget: Panathinaikos, with İbrahim Kutluay on the roster, won the EuroLeague championship.
This year, though, things played out much differently. Panathinaikos lost the first game—despite leading most of the match, they crumbled in the final quarter and were overtaken in the last minutes. During the break before the second game, we went out for dinner and then returned to the arena. While waiting at the entrance, we were chatting when Galatasaray’s coach Oktay Mahmuti and Beşiktaş’s coach Ergin Ataman walked past.
Out of instinct, I said to Mahmuti, “Coach, it should’ve been us in Olympiakos’s place. We even managed to beat them in the first round.” With a somber expression, he replied, “If only…” And then Ergin Ataman—always quick on the draw—added, “Well, next year when we make the Final Four, you’ll come watch us.” I told him I’d be glad to watch both teams, and that I had a lot of sympathy for Beşiktaş. We all laughed and went to take our seats.
I’m sharing this story now because Beşiktaş has just clinched the championship, and I think it ties back perfectly to that encounter. Coach Ergin truly has a strong sense of self-belief—and I’m sure he instills that confidence in his players too. After NBA star Deron Williams returned to the U.S., many people were quick to write Beşiktaş off, saying they’d be relegated. But just the opposite happened. Beşiktaş’s performance only improved after Williams left.
And look at the results: Beşiktaş pulled off the impossible this season, taking home three trophies. In addition to winning the Turkish Cup, they also captured Europe’s second-tier cup, etching their name into Turkish basketball history. Finally, they ended their 37-year title drought by winning the Turkish league. If Beşiktaş makes smart transfers this summer, I have no doubt they’ll reach the Final Four next season—just like Coach Ataman told me.
Personally, I hope to see Ergin Ataman achieve yet another first: coaching in the NBA. Imagine a Turkish coach leading an NBA team—that would be phenomenal. Of course, it’s worth mentioning that Türkiye already has other top-tier coaches with international success, like Erman Kunter and Ergin Ataman himself.
To wrap up, let me emphasize something I mentioned in my previous post: the people who train and mentor athletes must be highly competent in every aspect. Do we have capable coaches in Türkiye? Absolutely. Especially in basketball. Names like Aydın Örs, Ergin Ataman, Erman Kunter, and Oktay Mahmuti come to mind. In fact, basketball and volleyball are far ahead of other sports in Türkiye. That said, Turkish sports overall still lag behind where they should be.
In my opinion, all sports disciplines in Türkiye should look to basketball and volleyball as role models. Coaches and athletes alike must raise their level of education and training. A well-developed sports ecosystem not only keeps youth away from harmful distractions but also serves as an invaluable promotional tool for our country—and contributes directly and indirectly to the Turkish economy.
Tag: sports
