Imagine spending thousands of dollars to pay for a flight from Sydney to Athens, sitting 20hrs in total in economy class seats on two planes that travel over 15,000 kms, all to watch one football game live in Greece.
That is the easy part.
It has been well-established that football is an incredibly fanatical experience in the homeland, with the tribalism erring on the side of violence and war between clubs’ supporters.
As such, the challenge of acquiring tickets to games has become so difficult to the point that anyone from outside the country must do intense research ahead of time.
This season was the first time in more than a decade that Panathinaikos, the team I follow with an undying passion, had a chance of winning the league. My brother and I made it our mission to be there in Greece in time for the season’s end.
The first hurdle was buying tickets for the flight, and we had to fork out thousands of dollars each which, being young recent university graduates, was tough but at the end of the day manageable.
Little did we know at the time that would be the easiest part of our journey.
The next step was obtaining so-called “κάρτες φίλου” or “fan cards” of Panathinaikos which are essential if you wish to purchase tickets to matches.
Getting these was also fairly simple and so we thought that everything was coming together nicely.
However, in Greece, tickets are not put up for sale until a few days before the match.
So, in the leadup to our flight, we both knew that we were travelling to the Πατρίδα (motherland) with the knowledge that we could ultimately fail in our mission of watching even one game live.
Arrival in Greece – Heartbreak
We arrived at Eleftherios Venizelos airport on Sunday May 7 exhausted from the flight but deeply excited at the prospect of seeing the “Trifylli” win its first premiership since 2010.
The next day, we went with some cousins to a local bar in Athens to watch the derby between us and our “eternal enemies”, Olympiacos, at their mighty home, “Karaiskakis” Stadium.
We were both incredibly nervous as we knew that a loss would be catastrophic to our team’s championship chances, with AEK level on points with us and this being the penultimate round.
There were two screens at the bar, one showing our match and the other showing the Aris-AEK clash, meaning that we spent the entire 90 minutes like tennis spectators, constantly moving our heads from right to left.
Sixty-nine minutes of intense play later, our hearts dropped as Olympiacos left back Oleg Reabciuk found the back of the net.
The loudest cheers came not from the Olympiacos fans but from the “ΑΕΚτζήδες” (AEK fans) who realised the title was now firmly in their hands.
The full-time whistle blew. 1-0 to Olympiacos and 1-2 to AEK.
There we were, one day into our trip that now felt ruined. There was a complete feeling of emptiness in both me and my brother.
There were no words to comfort us, nothing to bring us out of the depths of despair. All hope was lost.
That night was the worst in many years for us but we had to pick ourselves up and salvage the trip as best as possible.
The tickets were set to go on sale three days later for Panathinaikos’ last match of the season against Aris at our home, “Leoforos” Stadium.
Our cousins invited us to go out during the day into the city and we were more than happy with the idea, though we stressed that at 2 pm local time we would be on our phones, battling to buy tickets.
We walked together from Syntagma all the way to a popular tourist spot, the “βραχάκια της Ακρόπολης” (Varachakia Acropolis), when the clock hit 2 and in a fury we dived straight into our phones.
After five minutes of furiously trying to select tickets, we managed to get four spots, two for us and two for our uncle and our cousin.
We proceeded to the next page which required you to put in your “κάρτα φίλου” (fan card) number as well as either your passport or “Ταυτότητα” (Greek ID) number.
We tried three times to fill it out and each time it said we had made a mistake. Looking through, we realised that the “κάρτα φίλου” only allows you to buy one ticket each.
We backed out and tried again but, much to our dismay, seats were completely sold out.
So here we were at a beautiful spot in the city with our two cousins, having failed our mission to watch our beloved team play.
An unexpected surprise
Lamenting our failure, we tried to take solace in the good company we had and enjoy the rest of the day out with our relatives who managed to take our minds off it for a little while.
Walking back into our apartment, my brother saw that he had left his computer slightly open and so he went to give it a proper shut down.
That was when he noticed something odd.
The computer was still open on the Panathinaikos page from the previous night’s browse for tickets. After refreshing it, the icon to purchase tickets was still active.
Out of curiosity, he pressed the button and found two available tickets at Gate 9.
Our anticipation began to rise.
We then proceeded to the page where we encountered trouble before. This time, however, we were only buying tickets for the two of us, so the details were accepted and we moved on to the checkout.
My brother whipped out his travel card, which he obtained expressly for this trip, and put in the details. It did not accept them. He tried twice more to no avail. Our spirits were once again being crushed.
In one final attempt, he took out his ordinary Australian debit card which last December he had decorated with a Panathinaikos sticker and typed in the details.
As the loading icon appeared, we sat there in anticipation. Thirty seconds passed (though they felt like 30 years) and then the most beautiful thing happened as we saw the page that confirmed we had our tickets.
Right there, my brother and I stood up in jubilation and we jumped into a hug, the first time my big brother had ever given me an embrace that was not a headlock.
In that moment, I realised that while silverware is always the dream, there is nothing bigger than the love you have for your team and just having the chance to watch them play before your eyes is greater than any other earthly pleasure.
The matchday experience
Come Sunday, we were dropped off outside the stadium by our uncle who insisted on dropping us off and picking us up.
The moment we stepped out of the car we saw a parade of Panathinaikos faithful proudly sporting the green and white colours. Due to the intensity of the football culture, gameday on home turf is perhaps the only safe time and place to openly wear the jersey which we both did.
For the first time in our trip, it felt like we were truly a part of our team and that we had arrived “home”.
Entering through the gates, we heard a roar of anger from within to which we found out seconds later was because the Aris goalkeepers had just emerged for their warmup.
Another gentle reminder of the wildness of Greek football fans.
We took our seats and eagerly awaited kick-off, soaking in every minute of the supporters’ passionate chants across the stadium, led by the active fanbase stationed at Gate 13 (Θύρα 13).
Eventually, the players emerged and the roar of the fans somehow grew even louder, and a sea of green flares lit up the entire ground.
The referee finally blew the whistle to start the match.
The euphoria my brother and I were experiencing soared to a higher level as we scored six minutes in, a perfect start to our first Panathinaikos game together in nearly 15 years.
Aris equalised soon after to bring us back down to reality and roughly ten minutes after their goal, we witnessed another example of the crazy fanaticism of Greek football fans.
Substitute striker Aboubakar Kamara went around towards Gate 7 (directly opposite Gate 13) to warm up. He is a player on loan to Aris from Olympiacos, so the fans started booing him and in retaliation, my brother swears that he saw Kamara give them the middle finger.
The supporters became incensed at this, flooding towards the front and smashing violently on the giant plexiglass that stands on the border of the seats and the pitch.
Fans started throwing bottles towards Kamara and screamed unacceptable profanities towards him, with a mere child shouting at the top of his lungs “Go back to Africa!” in Greek.
This was when my engagement in the match took a temporary detour as I pondered the effects the sport has had on the people, making civilised individuals behave like wild animals.
The huge support for our club was fantastic to see but the side-effects of this leading to extreme feelings of hate and even racism against players and clubs shows it can be counter-productive.
The fact that away fans are banned from the stadium for reasons of safety just highlights this point even further.
I eventually escaped this deep train of thought in the 77th minute when Aris won a penalty, which Kamara stepped up to take.
While I had some sympathy for the player as a person, my loyalty to the Greens meant I desperately wanted him to miss and luckily our goalkeeper Yuri Lodygin dived correctly to keep it level.
That proved the last decisive moment of the match and it finished 1-1, a fittingly tame conclusion to our epic journey.
The aftermath warmed my heart deeply as nearly all the sold-out crowd stayed behind to cheer on the players for their efforts all season, even jumping onto the pitch.
I was particularly impressed with the fans’ chants of our coach, Ivan Jovanovic, who has reinvigorated the “Trifylli” in his two years at the helm.
The passion again reminded me of the positivity that can be spread through unwavering, fervent support for your team.
Leaving the stadium, I recounted all the steps it took for us to get there and it made me wonder: there must be a way to simplify this process.
All the trials and tribulations associated with attending one football game in Greece, it just seems absurdly difficult.
Hopefully, this can be made easier because when you do go, it truly is an unforgettable experience.
While I love supporting football in Australia, when watching Panathinaikos play at our “Leoforos”, there was one everlasting thought that my brother and I both shared:
There is no place like home.