I write in tears: Champion Trabzonspor – Spor

We’ve waited too long, too long.

More than it should be…

Dreams, disappointments, endless successes, failures…

We have seen it all. Many of us have been sacrificed. We contributed very little.

We like. We know from ourselves those who are in leather, those who run, those who cry out with passion, those who thirst for justice, and those who do not remain silent in the face of injustice.

We were revolutionaries.

We were on the front line.

We did it first. In pursuit of a pair of blue eyes who destroyed Istanbul’s reign; Adding a burgundy alongside it, we won for the second time. As football legend Özkan Sümer said, Trabzonspor was the child of the Republic, and it suited them better to be revolutionary.

(Ozgur Hassan Altuncu)

Kazım Koyuncu, the boy in the poet’s jacket, was on our side for this very reason.

We came from all sides, from all wings, like the SOL winds of the 70s. We blew like a storm. We have completed the spirit of the times.

“I’m an Anatolian kid, I don’t play anywhere else” As Ünal Karaman, who says, we were the special children of this land.

We were not in love with money, but with faith and together we were in love with the country. We were the martyr Eren Bülbül running through the Maçka highlands with a torn shirt. We were Major Arslan Kulaksız, who was martyred in front of his family.

We are Martyr Muhammed Fatih Safitürk District Governor. We were Koray Çapoğlu, dead in his bosom with the maroon blue flag he waved with pure emotion in Suruç.

We were the Akçelik brothers and the Akyazı brothers, who died in traffic accidents on the roads outside with the excitement of catching the game.

We were closest in the places that seemed the furthest away.

We were in the village of Bağacık in Diyarbakır. We were in Mardin, we were in Bingöl, we were in Ağrı, we were in the heart of the most beautiful place of many beautiful people.

We were both national and universal.

“Everywhere is Trabzon for us” Then we remembered and remembered not just an empty slogan, but our own children running in every stadium in the country, and our volunteers all over the country and around the world.

We have not given up. We went, we looked. Sometimes we wanted to go but we couldn’t. The work of the fields did not wait, the grass of the meadows was not long in coming. On the steep slopes of the eastern Black Sea, in the short waves of battery-operated radios, “minute and score” We accompanied the old, the young, the women and the men together, our voices echoing in the mountains.

We are happy, we are sad. Enough, we didn’t say we gave up, we couldn’t tell. We were passionate.

We fell in love with her waves, platters, servants, brides and daughters.

Evil is enough to give to ourselves and to all of us what comes from us. It’s been a day, we hurt each other like hot vinegar. The time has come, we have buried Avni Aker, who we have buried many great teams in his green field, with our own hands, being fascinated with reason. One day we were born from our ashes in Akyazı as Şenol Güneş.

We were believers. We stayed alone and became both announcers and markers in many places, in schoolyards abroad, for example. We were happy for every goal. The day came, we rushed together.

So much so that in the last second goal scored in Birmingham, we jumped and broke through the wooden floors of the wooden village houses. We included our heavy cows in our joy.

The day came, after the goal he scored in Lyon, we played a goal horoscope like Hami.

It’s been a while since we left the field to the teams that Kenan Evrens made play in the final. During the medal ceremony “Enough, will you get all the trophies?” said to the putschist, “We know our limits” we said it. We lifted the trophy in front of their eyes, as if in defiance.

The time has come, we have the honor of the first and only cup given in memory of our valiants who shed their red blood in Cyprus.

We won the cup, which they wanted to take away from us with unfair penalties in Bursa, with 3 goals against 5. We were present in Hami’s balls which pierced the net, in Shota’s dribbles, in the pitches which did not weren’t enough for Orhan, in Yattara’s shows, in Hamdi’s header against Barcelona, ​​in Liverpool’s victory…

We have stubbornly paved the way for success under the leadership of Abdullah Avcı. We had the first light of our daughter, Buse Naz Sürmeneli, from Japan, where the sun rises. Each of his blows was our accumulated anger, the tears of victory.

Our fathers had Cemilleri, Şenolları, Tuncayları, Ahmet Suat Özyazıcıları.

He became our Protector, Unal, Shota. We grew up a bit, we were Fatih, we were Gökdeniz. We were many more. Now our children are Uğurcan, Yusuf, Abdülkadir. Our grandchildren are part of everything…

We were all in one city. We were the language. We were the hope and joy of lonely towns and waking generations. What we have just become football. We are not just a sports club.

We were much more than that. We have become school, life, culture, art, literature. We have become life. We taught, learned, laughed less and cried more. And luckily, we all saw that big “delayed” day together.

Fortunately, knowing that there are millions like me, whose biggest childhood dream has come true, we wrote CHAMPION TRABZONSPOR in fonts screaming tears everywhere.

Guest author: Özgür Hasan Altuncu


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