who’d run onto the pitch. He picked him up by his collar, marched him to the touchline and threw him to the ground. I don’t suppose that helped relations, so I’m blaming Big Pete for the nasty welcome!
Beautiful as it was, on the banks of the Bosphorus, the hotel wasn’t exactly a sanctuary, either. Fans kept managing to get through to our rooms on the telephone, which was unusual. It seemed like every few minutes there’d be another call. It was impossible to get a moment’s peace.
None of that could prepare us for what we experienced when we arrived at the Ali Sami Yen stadium. As the coach pulled up there were people absolutely everywhere. I swear every Galatasaray fan in Turkey had come out for the game. But then we walked inside and the place was already full!
Remember, this was about two hours before kick-off and the place was already rocking. We went for a stroll on the pitch and it was so loud you couldn’t hear the bloke next to you. It was the most atmospheric game, by a distance, that I’d ever been involved in and I still haven’t been to another that comes close.
I’d played at Anfield and Elland Road and I went on to play in places like Greece, but nothing was anything like that night in Istanbul. This was on a whole other level. “Hostile” doesn’t do it justice.
The stands at each end were singing to each other, the crowd were bouncing up and