You'll never walk alone.

I like a spectacle, so any large gathering of people can pique my interest, regardless of whether I intend to share in the emotion of the experience. Whether it's airports, concerts, sporting events, political rallies, or the end of the school day, I'm always keen to be on hand to watch.

This last week was special because I was witness to two spectacles.

Wednesday morning, I got up early (3:30 AM) to watch election results come in with a gathering of expatriates. The event was interesting, and I'm sure that Obama's election is important... I'm just not sure if it is for me. There were tears of joy, shouting, and cheering when Obama was declared the winner. My first thought was:

"It's 5:30 AM, and we've only been here for an hour. How can the show be over already?"

The memories of two successive elections, left undecided after a night of tallying results, left me feeling that Obama's landslide victory had robbed me of my spectacle (for which I had payed 5 TLY).

Friday, I made up for it by going to a Beşiktaş match.

They say that there are three types of foreigners in Istanbul, and you can distinguish them by the team they support:

Fenerbahçe fans are 'fresh off the boat', and taken by the widespread popularity of the Blue and Yellow. They don't know Turkish, and certainly don't know Turkey, so they can hardly be blamed. These are people who buy Yankees hats when they visit New York City, fair weather fans.

Expatriate Galatasaray supporter have been in Turkey long enough to meet some actual Turks, and at least make their acquaintance. Self-identifying "liberals" (according to the American definition), this group will take up the Red and Yellow mantle for the experience of "Turkish" football, and upon their return to Starbucks, email friends and family from their MacBook Pro and blog about their experience at "the crossroads of civilization".

Foreigners in Turkey have to find Beşiktaş. The informed ex-pat, one who speaks Turkish and knows about Turkey and Turkish history, who approaches the world with a sense of ideology, and who knows that the fan base is more important than the team, will sift through the mosaic of Turkish football and come realize it's fundamental duality, embodied by the Black and White.

In my first year here, Beşiktaş was merely the home team. The stadium was close, and it made sense to support them... I could hear the games from our apartment. These days, home games are part of the rhythm of living in Istanbul. It isn't about about geography anymore, nor the team, and much less football, instead it's part ideology part song. If I'd been in Spain in the 1940s, I would have been a leftist for no other reason than the people. Beşiktaş offers me that, so I'll continue to walk with them.

Friday afternoons, school lets out early, so myself and two colleagues were in Beşiktaş and sipping rakı by 4:15. We snacked on appetizers, drank, talked about past matches, and were joined later by one colleague's mother and two English teachers. Around 6, things began getting rowdy...

It started with songs. These were hymns, really, as the tunes were often the same while the words changed. Our fan base is creative, and the song list is endless. For over an hour we sang and cheered, drinking and eating, until at 7:30 we began the march to the stadium.

I've been in Kadıköy during a Fenerbahçe match, and one could always distinguish when the goals occurred by the peak in sound. From outside Inönü Stadium, it sounded like a riot was happening around some corner. It was sheer volume.

Inside, the sound was the constant white noise of a cheering croud. Occasionally, coordinated in song, but never less than the volume of a baseball game when a run is batted-in: a crush of sound. The passion of Beşiktaş has no analogy, and I now remember ball games as study destinations, like libraries or well-lit corners.

The match took ninety minutes, but for my effort I got a lasting, six-hour dose of pure spectacle. It should tide me over to the next game.