You said Beitar are bad in Europe? Experiences from the sauna in Larnaca
At first, miracle followed miracle, then Beitar Jerusalem choked AEK and kicked history. When the team controls the ball, Antwi gallops forward and Carabalí shows new sides of his talent, the wasteland of Larnaca looks like the lights of Paris. Moshe Ziat returned from Cyprus sweaty and happy.
It is the end of July and the sweat is dripping like from an old air conditioner gutter, but I went to Larnaca. It is the first time I am traveling with Beitar to Europe, on paper a dubious experience in itself: in the worst case, you will meet a team on a pitch resembling the Haberfeld and receive 3 goals on a half-pitch where sheep once grazed; and in the even worse case, you will concede a pair from a team whose most famous player was once called 'the Messi of Albania' and has some giant in the attack who will head you home. And yet, despite the resume, I went to Larnaca.
Well, not exactly to Larnaca. We took a hotel in Limassol, a place that is Paris compared to Larnaca. And here too we met fans, a trickle here and there: 'do you have a ticket, brother?', 'I am looking, brother is looking', 'a friend is stuck'. What do you mean stuck? Who travels to sweat their life out on this island when they are not equipped with a ticket? Well, in the end, these are fans who shout 'Noooo' when the defender moves slowly along the center line; a technical item like a ticket will certainly not extinguish the fire of their lust.
We arrived early at the stadium area in Ashkelon, or Afula — each according to what they tend to be offended by — in Cyprus. The line began to gather slowly, buses unloaded fans in yellow and black, police with dogs held behind them. Only after an hour did the wounded from the pro-Palestinian ambush arrive: one with a swollen face in a bandage, one receiving treatment behind some tree. It startled us, tensed us to the limit; the finger scrolls through reports from Iran and the scenes reach the wastelands of Cyprus. We hurried inside.
Hot, did we say? A wet sauna. But there is a game. AEK started throwing balls into the box, one hit the post, then another, miracle after miracle. A bit like in the World Cup, but everything changed at the first water break: from it we emerged as a real Beitar. A team that controls the ball, moves it, presses, and everyone runs like crazy. I love this team.
What is this Nana Antwi, can someone explain to me? I don't remember such a defender with us. What is this Boris Eno, total control in the middle with midfielders next to him who look like leftovers from KFC. The huge, aggressive Carabalí feels comfortable revealing delicate sides too when he threads a ball into the corner; both a clearance and a ball in the net in the same move, that is the finish that ended AEK. And there could have been another one here, but let's not be greedy.
You said Beitar are bad in Europe, right? I don't know, I only saw them winning.
This Beitar did things we don't know, don't understand. We finished as runners-up after 40 years, we held a race; 20 thousand season tickets at Teddy, never happened before; the missing piece is consistency in Europe. To come to a stadium in Larnaca, which is like Levita in Kfar Saba, and win.
What does it mean to win? To control. To choke the local team. Not to panic when they start well against you. Experience that is unclear where we gained from, confidence in the game system, patience. We didn't create a lot but certainly more than the nothing they did and we even pushed one in, fantastic. I believe in us. We are in a good place.
We dragged the puddle that was once us to the car, looking carefully in all directions. With enough dopamine in the body, even the wasteland of Larnaca looks like the lights of Paris, amazing.
