Ilisiakos is a club I’d visited a few times before I started this blog. They are a multi-sports club based in Ilisia, central Athens, perhaps best known for their basketball department, which is also their most successful one. Their football team has a longer history, though, and although it never managed to reach the first division, it has plenty of second-division seasons on its CV; not bad for a neighbourhood side. It’s also the club where Nikos Sarganis, probably the best goalkeeper in Greek football history, began his career, as well as Zacharias Pytichoutis, a later legend of Panathinaikos FC. They’re also one of the most well-supported local teams at that level in Athens, with a long and steady history of ultras presence. Their home base is the Zografou Stadium on Kokkinopoulou Street, though today finds them playing in nearby Goudi due to maintenance work at the aforementioned ground.

Nea Ionia is a side I had never seen play before, although I’ve visited their stadium in the past; you can read about that here. They too used to have a decent and lively following, which has sadly declined since last year. Like Ilisiakos, they are a fellow third-division club this season, and today they are competing against them for a spot in the next round of the Amateur cup.

Goudi Stadium is one that’s been on my radar for a while. My mum has been telling me about it, as it’s right next to the park where she walks our dog on Sundays, sometimes even glimpsing some football as she says. It’s actually inside the Goudi Grove, in the same way the stadium in Galatsi is part of the Veikou Grove (I’ve written about that here). It’s also just a short drive from my place, so I figured I had to finally pay a visit.

There’s something special about a football ground that isn’t segregated from its surroundings, one that’s just part of a larger space. I don’t know if I’m able to explain it well, but I think it must be the symbiosis of the park-goers with the football crowd. The ones on a casual walk, the afternoon joggers, the children playing — all existing just a few metres behind the immersed spectators — make the whole experience feel casual yet surreal. It probably just exaggerates the contrast between normal life and the alternate reality that a football match is.

Due to the day and time of kick-off, the turnout wasn’t huge. Naturally, the crowd tended towards an older demographic, but as time passed more young people arrived, mostly friends of Ilisiakos’ players, it seemed. At this point I’m also wondering why a knock-out cup match didn’t take place at a neutral ground, but I’ll assume it has to do with some form of seeding rules.

Both sides played all right but seemed to lack a certain spark; call it passion, confidence or urgency. The match was fairly balanced, if not leaning slightly towards Ilisiakos. Both teams had moments when they controlled the game, but overall 0-0 felt like a fair result. As mentioned, these cup games are single-leg knockout ties. There is no extra time, so the 90th-minute whistle meant it was time for a penalty shoot-out.

The thrill that penalties offer felt like compensation for the rather unexciting duel I had just watched. Ilisiakos went first and Nea Ionia second. Both sides missed once and, as the tension built, a visiting player missed again before Ilisiakos converted their kick to secure a narrow victory that sent them through to the next stage. Older men celebrated like children, and unaware passers-by momentarily paused their strolls, confused as to what was happening, while life carried on in another park of the capital.