 FROM the moment we touched down in Turkey the omens were bad. The excitement of being told how brilliant the party in Taksim Square was by friends was swept aside by the disappointment of realising our coach wasn't going there. Instead, on police advice, we were dropped off near the harbour in Istanbul. Good start. A quick scout around revealed nothing to do, so it was time to take the bull by the horns - forget the coach, we were going to Taksim Square under our own steam. After a taxi journey the Dukes of Hazzard would have been proud of - and a prophetic rant by a local kid who screamed '3-3' at us - we arrived. It didn't disappoint. There were Liverpool fans everywhere, the beer was flowing, the sun was out - this was more like it. Fast forward a few hours and it was time to head for the ground. With our coach long departed from the other side of the city there was only one thing for it - brave a taxi again. With cigars in hand in case we won, we were on our way - but not for long. We soon had problems. A Mercedes carrying two Turks seemed intent on running us off the road and our driver was soon jabbering away to our new friends while leaning out of the window and paying no attention to the road. Next thing, he'd pulled up - they wanted Liverpool fans with them so they could get past police and soak up the atmosphere near the ground. Fine, so long as they paid for the cab! They did and after a bizarre journey to the middle of nowhere a stadium emerged. So to the game and I was unlucky to be positioned in front of a young Victor Meldrew. Despite thousands standing on their seats, this man insisted I stayed off mine, even pushing me off. It almost came to blows before a mate said they didn't have Sky in Turkish prison! Three-nil down at half-time, the consensus was avoiding embarrassment was the best to hope for. Thankfully we were wrong. And come the final penalty save from Jerzy Dudek who did I find myself hugging as I tried to protect my cigar? Yep - Victor Meldrew! | 
