While most other Addicks were celebrating the ton-up, I was away on holiday, in Cyprus. In the run up to going away, I was anxiously eyeing the table, worried that I’d miss the promotion or championship clincher, and was relieved when the boys duly delivered before I headed off into the sun. I wasn’t going to miss out on football altogether, I’d also been showing a new found interest in Cypriot football: not because of Apoel’s impressive march to the last eight of the Champions League, but because one of our old boys, Mr Chris Dickson, transferred to AEL in the window and had been going great guns. I knew that Dicko’s team would have their last home league match while we were there. The missus used to work with our exiled striker and was looking forward to seeing how he’d come on since leaving the Valley.
Dicko was always an enigma for me. A goal machine on his hot-streak at Gillingham who never managed any consistency under Pards and Parky – but then again, who did? The season ended in an ignoble relegation and a bunch of flops were shown the door. I didn’t think we’d much miss any of them, although Dicko was a bit different. A genuinely nice guy who had a performance in him, but who never really did it for us
Dicko cut his losses and headed for Cyprus where he played for Famagusta doing enough to earn a move to the resurgent AEL, who had a realistic shot at bringing home their first title in 44 years. Dicko top-scored in the period after joining, and AEL were top of the pile before splitting into the 4 mini-league finale, with a decent lead. A few weeks before I was due to go that had been stretched to 5 points with four games to go. A double header against Apoel brought a defeat and a draw so the gap had narrowed to two, with two to go.
AEL got through to the cup final with a bore-draw against Larnaca, and faced Dicko’s old team, Famagusta, while Apoel faced a derby against Omonia.
Due to our internet connection packing up we’d missed Dicko’s message about tickets so just headed through to nearby Limassol to work out how to get to see the match. When we got to the rather natty looking stadium, more than an hour before kickoff to find it packed to the rafters with singing Cypriots, I was worried. The ticket booths were closed. I walked around for a bit and found a booth at the other side still open. I was dithering around trying to work out if this was for away fans when a friendly Famagusta fan put me right: the AEL end is sold out, I could have tickets for the away end. I looked disappointed so he said something to the ticket lady and then informed us we could get home tickets here.
So, we parted with 40 € for our tickets and made our way back round to the pandemonium, pausing to procure a natty yellow AEL cap: everyone is decked out in yellow gear. Everyone. I asked the hat lady where we got in, and she said that we had away end tickets. Darn. She shrugged and just told us to go in Gate 3, the home end. The noise was deafening by now, I really wanted to experience the game from there, so gave it a go. The gate guy (not a turnstile) ripped our tickets in two without looking at them, we were in!
The atmosphere was like nothing I’ve ever seen. We managed to find a corner of the stand that was empty. An hour before kick off everyone was singing and jumping. Surely they'd run out of steam soon?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?list=ULSKK8oyQxj7w&v=SKK8oyQxj7w&feature=player_detailpage...TBC
Comments
Gonna enjoy seeing him with the big boys next season.
Out of interest, this Famagusta team. Where do they play? As I understand it, Famagusta is now in the Turkish side ( a mate of mine has family property there which he sadly showed me through a telescope).
The crowd continued to stream in and kept up the singing. We hopped up on our seats. It was pretty infectious, I was clapping along and nervously awaiting the kick off. The stadium itself was quite bizarre. (To Oggy’s point), there were only two stands: one on each of the long ends with the behind the goal areas “missing”. The Anorthosis fans (a couple of hundred of them) had one to themselves, while we were sardined into the other. To be fair they made a bit of noise themselves and spent most of the game merrily bouncing around.
The whole pitch is set behind a Perspex fence (we’d see why later). At the front of the stand is a waist high fence and between that and the Perspex there’s a fifteen foot drop onto concrete. Kids balance on the fence and wave flags. For the first time in my life I start fretting about health and safety.
A fan scrambles over one of the gates and onto the running track, nobody seems too concerned. He leads the crowd in an organised clapping. This keeps the atmosphere bubbling along nicely. He trots out onto the pitch and enjoys the sprinklers while keeping the clapping going.
With game time approaching he’s told to get back into the stands, which he duly does. The stands are packed: a number of people have clambered onto the VIP box and are bouncing about up there. The game kicks off and there’s no let up in the din. AEL generally dominate with Dickson doing well as the lone front man. He’s a better player than we saw, running the channels well and creating a couple of chances. There’s an almighty scramble from a corner and Dicko (I think) hits the woodwork (I think). It’s hard to tell as I’m right behind the dugouts and I’m bouncing on a seat. AEL smack the bar with a long shot, but Anorthosis have a couple of great chances largely due to some inept defending. A lad throws his bottle of water at one of the cops near the dugout. The cop comes forward to peer into the crowd and gets the double bird in acknowledgement. He sulks back to his position.
There’s a buzz in the crowd. Apoel are drawing. There’s a chance to wrap it up here. Half time comes, and finally everyone has a breather and a sit down. The second half starts like the first finished. AEL are doing most of the running but comedy defending has let Famagusta in a couple of times. It could go either way. The crowd doesn’t let all this dampen it’s enthusiasm. The songs are all great: one is based on Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It”, which is a good thing. Dicko bursts through and hammers one just over the bar. I’m boiling and desperately want to drink all the Keo in the stadium. Lovely, lovely Keo. There’s no way up to the beer vendor so I just keep bouncing. This is the best atmosphere I’ve ever been in. Dicko shows some unfamiliar skills and leaves the opposition defence for dead, but the chance is wasted by the sub who has joined him up front.
The riot police file on from the right. A lot of water bottles rain down on them and a few flagpoles. A photographer arranges the flagpoles into an AEL design.
Apoel are losing, this is it. A nothing ball comes to Dicko in the middle of Anorthosis half, his lay off threads the needle, bypassing a packed defence. An AEL midfielder bursts through and slots it away. There’s about 15 minutes to go, and it’s time to go effing mental.
The next 5 minutes see AEL trying to put it beyond doubt. Dicko comes off and a local lad comes on and shanks a chance. I can’t concentrate on the match anymore, everything is going radio rental. The board goes up: 5 minutes injury time. I’m concerned, but nobody else is. A few fans scramble over the fence and start dancing about on the running track. Flares fly. The riot boys are looking nervous. More boys scramble over the fence, people are streaming down from the back of the stand. I start to worry about getting dragged into that big, mad drop at the front, but I’m already too busy worrying about Anorthosis. I shouldn’t: on both counts – we’re barely jostled and the opposition have given up.
By the time the ref blows up there’s a couple of hundred over the fence. The riot police drop back and form up in front of the other stand. There’s no confrontations. More people are streaming over the gates, now. People are climbing up the posts, dancing with the players, standing on the dugouts. Two budding engineers get an advertising hoarding and set up a bridge that allows fans to scramble down. Then some bright spark uses the hoarding to just bash the 12 foot steel gates open. Then, there’s more people on the pitch than in the stands: and the stands are still packed. The fours "s"s sirens, singing and smoke. Dicko emerges from the crowd just wearing yellow cycling shorts. He’s either done a strip or been debagged. Whatever, he’s not letting it spoil his day, in fact he’s having a grand old time leading the tom-foolery. We watch for another ten minutes and then head off, there’s a few large Keos with my name on them.
When we get back there’s a message from Dicko with his contact details in case we struggle to get tickets, which was a nice touch. Excellent day. They’re going for the cup next week: could be lively in Nicosia that night!
Really enjoyed that Morts. Looks like Dicko has really improved his game.
Pleased for him.
D.I.C.K.O
Dick and Pardew in the Champions League two things I never thought would happen.