The spring branch of our sad story: Orkun Kökçü

“The history of football is a sad voyage from pleasure to duty. As football has become an industry, it has lost the beauty that existed when it was played for the sheer joy of it. In these days as we live through the end of the century, football rejects everything that is useless.”

These words belong to Eduardo Galeano, who wrote the most beautiful lines about football.

As football fans, for years—perhaps historically speaking, since the 2002 World Cup—we have been conditioned to a game without a story, without a narrative, where money is the only valid currency, managed by imperialist companies and transnational conglomerates.

Why do I mention the 2002 World Cup? Because the success of Turkey and South Korea there, and the early exits of Italy, France, and England, made for a tournament full of surprises.

As Galeano said, it was perhaps the last tournament where the “beauty” of football was truly experienced…

Real Madrid, under the leadership of contractor-president Florentino Pérez, had not yet added Manchester United’s iconic name David Beckham to its squad…

Before that “billion-dollar barrier” erected in front of Nihat Kahveci, football was a game of dedication, belonging, loyalty, affection, and love…

Of course, much has changed and transformed in the time since. Things that were once unthinkable have become the new “normal” of the game. We, in turn, began to romanticize nostalgia and the past, using them as garnish for our books, texts, and conversations.

THE MAN WHO PUT DYNAMITE INTO INDUSTRIAL FOOTBALL

Between legal betting and illegal betting, we began watching a game played by Gulf countries, Asian billionaires, and U.S. investors. After a while, the game accelerated. As the game accelerated, emotions dulled, and as emotions dulled, we forgot how to value worth and show respect for loyalty.

That was until July 12, 2025…

The reason I base this on this date is that I am a Beşiktaş fan. For as long as I can remember, I have laughed with Beşiktaş and cried with Beşiktaş. Thanks to Beşiktaş, I have met hundreds of good, bad, ugly, and beautiful people… Throughout this entire process, winning any championship or lifting any trophy never really mattered to me.

Because we experienced these things on July 12-13.

It was Orkun Kökçü, who, at his young age, just 24, while the biggest clubs in Europe were chasing him, pushed everything aside to show the resolve to continue his career at his childhood love, his Beşiktaş…

He made the impossible possible.

Perhaps he made the wrong decision for his career, but he reconnected a huge family. Because the family had been torn apart, the family was wounded, and every member of the family was looking at each other with suspicion.

As Umberto Eco says; “Football is the mass madness of modern times”… It really is.

For, on July 13, that is, yesterday… The masses, who feel the neoliberal vigilance in every area of life to their bones, performed a ritual against the industrialization of football.

They came together in the right place, with the right person, at the right moment…

Thousands of people who flocked to İnönü Stadium did not just welcome one person; they embraced one another through the values of belonging, loyalty, and love that this one person carried.

Political scientists define the concept we call family as “the smallest unit of the state.” Some people pass on, others take their place. A baby reconciles those who are estranged and brings together those who are fighting.

And in this miracle of life, a song plays in the background: A Child I Loved Far Away…

Now, that child is close to us. Those who want to jump onto the pitch and hug him do so, and those who want to look from afar feel proud. Because he is one of us, from within us… And best of all; he reminds us of ourselves.

He makes us feel the meaning of being a family, unconditional love, loyalty, and sacrifice. He reaches out to our sad story like a spring branch.

What can we say, kid… Welcome!