Approaching the end of the season, soccer usually follows a rhythm. The plot thickens, tension rises, and the finale feels inevitable. But April was not that. No surprises there, we've been living on the darker side of black and white for years now. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but Beşiktaş fans would’ve sacked the architects by Thursday.
And now comes May, not with a bang, but with the fanbase narrowing its gaze, not out of belief but survival. Third place, once a consolation prize, is now the last hill left to climb. And it matters more than expected. Thanks to a newly announced Super Cup format, finishing third would mean entry into a January semifinal: a shot at silverware that didn’t exist a week ago. A door creaks open, but only if Beşiktaş gets there. A big IF, heartbreakingly so.
Around the club, attention begins to drift toward next year: the transfer market, a reshaped squad, and a presidency that now seems destined for a full term. The campaign isn’t over, but its epilogue is already being drafted.
On the Pitch
Home loss to Başakşehir, 0–2 was a match where the visitors won without trying too hard, carried mostly by a player once dismissed as “only useful in counter-attacks,” who managed to score from a free kick. Beşiktaş held their own for about an hour, but the wheels came off once the most counter-attacking player of them all broke the deadlock. His second, a curling free kick, sealed the result, a club with an artificial soul triumphing over one with a battered but beating heart. It’s hard to say anyone truly cared about the loss. At this point, it's all so predictable that singling out players or analyzing tactics feels pointless.
Away draw to Göztepe, 1–1 felt like a tug-of-war without a winner. İzmir, with its Aegean breeze, carried both relief and regret. Rafa Silva's early goal promised catharsis, but Göztepe, winless in eleven, found unlikely inspiration through our once-very-own İsmail Köybaşı and his one-in-a-million strike. Beşiktaş walked away with just a point in a chase that no longer felt like a race. Still, there was something oddly refreshing about finally redeeming(!) ourselves against this season’s unofficial boogey-team.
Home win over Hatayspor, 5–1 offered fleeting dominance against a team already condemned. Hatayspor arrived with relegation looming and left with confirmation. Immobile’s hat-trick was merciless, Rafa Silva sparkled, and Arroyo closed the show. But the margin only highlighted the gap between the teams, and any joy was muted by the opponent’s terminal state. There are no clean victories in a league full of ghosts. Immobile was simply Immobile, a penalty merchant, polished and precise like a finely tailored Italian suit, perfect for special occasions but rarely there when it actually matters.
Away win over Fenerbahçe, 0–1 became the most improbable yet familiar of affirmations. Gedson’s goal just before halftime silenced Kadıköy and reignited something primal. Minutes earlier, he had missed a penalty, a moment that could have unraveled the night. The latest in a series of contrasting contributions only he seems capable of scripting. Under pressure from a title-chasing rival and fans once again calling for their board’s resignation, as they do every year like a finely tuned Swiss clock, we stood firm. In a season defined by unraveling, this was a moment of fierce clarity. We are still here, somehow. It felt like a home game. It usually does on their ground. Circumstances irrelevant.
What is a Capital Increase and Why Does It Matter?
Beşiktaş just pulled off the largest capital increase in its history. That phrase gets thrown around, but here’s what it actually means, and why it matters.
Beşiktaş, like many major football clubs in Türkiye, operates its professional football branch as a joint-stock company, similar to a public limited company. It allows the club to raise money by issuing shares, with Beşiktaş JK (the parent club) holding a controlling stake.
So when we say the club created and sold new shares of Beşiktaş Futbol AŞ, we’re talking about a legal and financial mechanism that brings real cash into the football operations, not loans or sponsorship fluff.
The club created new shares of Beşiktaş Futbol AŞ and sold them. Existing shareholders got first dibs, and the rest went to the market. The result? Approximately €41 million/$45 million (or a world-class holding midfielder, if you’re lucky) in fresh cash. Not a loan. Not a deferral. Real money.
All of it goes straight to paying off the club’s debts to the banking consortium, which still stands at roughly four times the amount raised. So no, it won’t buy a world-class holding midfielder.
Now, with more equity and less debt, Beşiktaş improves its position under UEFA’s Financial Fair Play rules. This doesn’t fix everything. But it clears the fog a little. It gives the club time. And time, in football, is currency.
Are The Chaos Days Really Behind Us?
President Serdal Adalı says the chaos days are over. Maybe they are. He certainly talks like a man who’s staying. He’s betting on blueprints over fireworks, self-sufficiency over sensation. Training grounds, real estate, long-term income; the vocabulary has shifted. That is either boring or brilliant, depending on how tired you are. Music to fans who envy the slow-burn successes of clubs like FK Bodø/Glimt (who, at the time of writing, are facing Spurs in their first-ever European semi-final!), but more like a lullaby to those who crave transfers like sugar.
On the sporting side, he’s promised a squad built on three pillars: a core of Turkish players including academy youth, players accustomed to European-level competition who can lead on and off the pitch, and select international talent to raise the ceiling. Not a full revolution, but a rebuild with a ruler and a level. No names yet, just a framework. And maybe that’s refreshing. After years of improvisation, a little planning goes a long way.
At this point, I just hope to live long enough (or that young fans get the chance) to see the day when our only worry is which player fits best, not whether we can afford him. Just two or three cherry-on-top signings for a squad that’s already doing the job. One can dream. Hope dies last.
See you in June.