Uzbekistan > Football match Uzbekistan - Iran

In about five hours, I drive to the capital of Uzbekistan, Tashkent. Today, an international football match between Uzbekistan and Iran is being played for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil. I just can’t figure out exactly when the match is scheduled. I hear conflicting reports, from afternoon to evening. Around noon, I arrive at the luxurious Uzbekistan Hotel, where a waiter helps me out. According to him, the match will be played tonight at 7:00 PM in the stadium near the old city. He says the game is completely sold out and isn’t sure if any tickets are still available.

Uzbekistan - The Kukeldash Madrassa in the old centre of Tashkent

Since I only have one afternoon in Tashkent, I quickly head out to see some of the city. I take a taxi to the Plov Center. Plov (or pilaf) is Uzbekistan’s national dish—a one-pot meal with rice and lamb. At the Plov Center, Uzbeks come for lunch to eat plov. I sit down at a table and order a plate. Afterwards, I continue walking toward the old city. By the road, I raise my hand for a taxi. Immediately, a young man in a private car stops. He offers to drive me to the old city for a small fee. I get out at the Chorsu Bazaar. Inside the market hall under a large green dome, fruit and vegetables are sold. The streets around the market are filled with small shops selling various goods. I visit the Kukeldash Madrassa in this district. I enter the remarkable inner courtyard. In the shade, on the grass, sits an old man who beckons me over. From his gestures, I understand he wants to know where I’m from. I don’t understand his Russian or Uzbek. He takes me by the arm and shows me the madrassa—the classrooms, the kitchen, and the restaurant. He explains everything continuously in what I think is incomprehensible Russian. I wonder if he even realizes that I don’t understand a word. He leads me to a student room, where two boys are studying.

Uzbekistan - Boys proudly show their favourite team

To my relief, they speak English. They are practicing calligraphy and write my name in Arabic calligraphy just for me. I feel genuinely honored. They also explain how to get to the football stadium, though they cannot say whether tickets are available. I head toward the stadium. At a gate, I ask an officer if this is the entrance. “Do you have a ticket?” he asks. He can arrange a ticket for me, but with a small markup. Soon, I’m holding a ticket for the Uzbekistan-Iran match. I paid the equivalent of twelve euros—about three times the normal price. While the officer and the ticket broker split the profit behind me, I walk toward the stadium. I encounter a massive police presence at the entrance. Mobile units are everywhere. Everyone is stopped. When the officers see me, an exception is made, and I am allowed to walk through the side entrance—but I must hand over my water bottle. A hundred meters ahead, there is a second police cordon. There is pushing and shoving, and the atmosphere is tense, even among the officers. Cutting in line is not allowed. A local Uzbek man next to me tries to ask for priority, but only gets an angry look. Still, it helps slightly—when some people are allowed through, my side goes first. I indicate to the boy that he is with me, and he may enter too.

Uzbekistan - The Uzbekistan vs Iran football match in Tashkent

He whispers “Thank you” in my ear. Inside the stadium, there are police officers everywhere. The stadium has only 8,000 seats, and I estimate around 800 police are present. Incredible. I don’t even need to find my seat; many officers guide me from one to another until I am seated. Clearly, there are very few foreigners. Next to me sits an officer, who must keep watch over the crowd. The young officer seems extremely proud to be next to me. The stadium is sold out. The stands are alive with celebration. Many supporters have painted their faces in Uzbekistan’s colors. A boy draped in the flag chants “Oez-Be-Ki-Stan,” which the entire stand echoes to the beat of the big drum. When I show my Uzbekistan scarf to the supporters, a loud cheer erupts. After the national anthems, a massive flag is unfurled across the crowd—a spectacular sight from the other side and surely on TV. Iran starts strong. In the first ten minutes, they create several chances. As Uzbekistan recovers, so does the crowd, cheering every touch of the ball as if it were a scoring opportunity. The match itself is not particularly high-quality; the ball moves from left to right without getting close to the goal. On the stands, the celebration continues. Uzbekistan has two good chances but fails to score. Iran, against the odds, scores in the very last minute. It feels as if I have lost. Disappointed, I leave the stadium with the supporters, searching for a taxi.