Warm welcome in Hell lifts the spirit

David Beckham had just sent his penalty kick into orbit and the deafening din from thousands of whistles had given way to gleeful delirium when the young Turkish fan standing next to me in the Sukru Saracoglu stadium offered a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Of course, he had barely been able to suppress the heartiest of laughs. And, after one of the most spectacular Charlie Caroli moments from a big-time Charlie, it was just about possible to smile ruefully back at him and his guffawing mates among this incredible red sea of support.

Yet as one of the few Englishmen to end up standing amid the throng of 50,000 passionate home fans, it honestly felt uplifting to find that a game which for so long had supposedly only the potential for poison and mayhem could end up with the odd warming hand of friendship being offered. Off the field, at least.

The home fans maintained a cacophony. They never stopped giving Beckham the bird each time he trotted over to the corner flag in front of us and at the end were outraged about England's celebratory huddle.

And it did seem charmless as, with the honourable exception of Nicky Butt, England players quite ignored their deflated opponents for an indecently long time.

Yet this was more sound than fury. It never once felt in the slightest threatening even when the Turkish supporters were getting agitated about the only uncivilised stuff on view which appeared to be kicking off down the tunnel. Welcome to Hell? Hopefully, this was a night when everyone but dear old Alpay seemed content to lay to rest that tiresome stuff.

A newspaper colleague and myself weren't testing out the security cordons which had already proved successful in identifying and keeping the few English out of the ground; simply, there was no more space in the press box and we needed to do our jobs, to report on this unique happening.

Aware that Turkish ID was being demanded, we used no pretence or subterfuge to gain entry, showing both tickets and credentials as English journalists. Security officers admitted us, happy there would be no problems. The police knew we were English too and seemed quite unconcerned. Why would they be? We were all obviously just there to watch the football.

So were those genuine travelling England fans who were not so lucky. There were about 50 turned back at the airport while some were intercepted outside the ground before being taken to a nearby community centre - where they were allowed to watch the match.

Inside the ground, it was all gloriously chaotic with dozens of soldiers leaning over the barriers and blocking the pathway in front of the section where we were standing. Naively, I showed one the seat number on my ticket. He just laughed; every seat had been snapped up hours ago. This was the first time for eons I've attended a standing- room only fixture.

A middle-aged man and his wife, who had chosen this as his firstever game, budged up to make room. One lad, a Fenerbahce fan, offered stories of Sergen and then a bottle of water. "Could I have done what you are doing now? Okay to sit in the middle of England fans that night in Sunderland?" he asked. It was a good question.

Even while praising our "listening" fans, Paul Barber, the FA's director of communications, still admitted yesterday that he hoped England supporters would never again have to face a blanket ban from a game like this and the previous one in Macedonia.