Half an hour’s walk from our apartment takes me to the Selman Stermasi Stadium, named after a previous player and coach of KF Tirana. I cross Skanderbeg Square, which commemorates the 15th Century military commander who led a rebellion against the Ottoman Empire. He’s now a national hero with a large statue in the eponymous square. I walk down Boulevard Martyrs of the Nation, a wide and impressive thoroughfare that houses many government buildings including the Presidential Palace. I take a right along Rruga Abdul Frasheri, named after a 19th Century politician who promoted Albanian independence. You can hear the history of a city in its street names.
The stadium is just beyond the Blloku district, which was reserved for Hoxha and his apparatchiks in Communist days. It's now home to snazzy shops and restaurants while his previous residence has been acquired by an American college. How the mighty fall and all that.
After a bit of trouble I find the ticket office for the football stadium. There are two prices: 300 lek (£2.50) or 1000 lek (£8.00). Being a skinflint, and unsure of the value of what I'm about to see, I go for the 300 lek option. I show my ticket at the gate and one of the security guards wants to inspect my rucksack. He's alarmed by the sight of my water bottle so opens it and gives a suspicious sniff. Apparently reassured it's not alcohol he throws the top on the ground and hands back the bottle. I ask him if I can have the top back. He shakes his head and makes a throwing gesture, the implication being that a bottle with a top is a dangerous missile and I'm likely to hurl it at the pitch in a moment of violent passion. I shrug and demur pointlessly then walk into the stadium.
It has seen better days with bleacher-style seats, a few of which are damaged or broken. It's open to the elements, which is fine on a warm sunny day like today but must be a bit of a challenge in the winter. I notice the cognoscenti have brought newspapers to unfurl on the dirty seats and protect their clothing. I use my map of Tirana and settle in for the big match. It looks as though 1000 lek buys a seat in the grandstand and perhaps a better class of newspaper.
The teams emerge to a muted smattering of applause. Tirana are in blue & white stripes (Sheff Utd style) while Egnatia are wearing a fetching bottle-green number. Their star Brazilian, Fernando, has dyed his hair green, which adds a pleasingly exotic touch to proceedings. Egnatia are top of the league and Tirana are fourth so it promises to be a hard-fought contest.
Tirana make a good start with a glancing header from a corner in the fourth minute. After thirty minutes, they score again from a free kick on the edge of the area. Things are looking good for the home side and they defend like stalwarts against a nippy and fit Egnatia who score from a corner just before half time. In the second half, Egnatia's superior fitness starts to show and Tirana are doing too much last ditch defending. It's no surprise when Egnatia score an equaliser and then a third goal in quick succession. To rub salt into the wound, Tirana miss a sitter in the final minute. Groans all round from the regulars.
In a corner of the stadium, a group of self-styled Tirana Ultra Fanatics do their noisy thing. Led by a rhythmical drummer and cheerleader they maintain a constant barrage of chanting, jumping and gesturing regardless of what's happening on the pitch. If their team had shown as much rhythm, energy and determination the result might have been different.
