This was more like entering the rugby scrum that Turks call a “queue,” crushing your way through the lines of riot police standing next to the armored troop transport toward the five small doors used to admit thousands of fans, going through the first cattle chute, getting frisked, heading to the second cattle chute, getting frisked again, and finally giving your ticket to the ticket taker. Allow me an understatement. This was quite unpleasant.