Forced win, three points in the bag – but nothing more…
Beşiktaş supporters have been living through the same bitter routine for a long time. Students, retirees, workers, civil servants – everyone digging deep into their pockets in this brutal cost-of-living crisis – go to the stadium dreaming of joy, and go back home disappointed, empty, and frustrated. The emotional bond with the club remains, but the pleasure of watching Beşiktaş play football has almost completely disappeared.
For weeks, maybe months, the “Black Eagles” have not offered their fans a match you could genuinely call enjoyable. The team is falling apart piece by piece, both tactically and mentally. The latest example was the Beşiktaş–Konyaspor game. The match started at the same low tempo we’ve grown used to, and Beşiktaş only managed to win 2–1 thanks to what can fairly be described as a fluke goal from Orkun Kökçü.
Yes, the scoreboard shows three points. But this result does not prove that Beşiktaş played good football. It only proves that sometimes luck favours you even when you don’t deserve it.
A coach watching more than he’s intervening
There is a lot to be said about Sergen Yalçın. He sees the team’s problems as clearly as anyone, he knows the shortcomings, but he doesn’t seem to be finding real solutions. Too often, he stands on the touchline more like a spectator than a coach capable of changing the script of the game.
One of the most striking issues is the constant rotation. Almost every match comes with a different starting eleven. Central defenders change, midfielders change, strikers change. Of course, modern football demands rotation, but what we see in Beşiktaş is no longer “planned rotation” – it looks chaotic. A team that keeps changing its backbone can’t build chemistry, and that lack of harmony is written all over Beşiktaş’s performances.
In central defence, for example, pairing the inexperienced T. Djilo next to Emirhan backfired exactly as you would expect. The goal conceded came directly from a misunderstanding between these two centre-backs; Konyaspor happily took advantage and went 1–0 ahead. When the heart of your defence is built on inexperience and miscommunication, every attack from the opponent becomes a potential disaster.
Midfield: from continuity to uncertainty
The same chaos appears in midfield. Take Salih Uçan: one match he’s there, next match he’s gone. There is no clear hierarchy, no stable core. Once upon a time, Beşiktaş could rely on a midfield that almost chose itself: Oğuzhan, Atiba, Josef — players who played week in, week out, who knew each other’s movements by heart and controlled the rhythm of the game.
Today, by contrast, you have a revolving door. Some players appear, disappear, come on for 20 minutes, then vanish from the squad list in the following game. Without continuity in the middle of the park, there is no structure, no identity, and no mechanism to transition from defence to attack with clarity.
The never-ending search for a real striker
Another chronic issue is up front. How long has it been since Beşiktaş had a truly dominant centre-forward? For years now, the club has been gambling on one strange signing after another – forwards who arrive with big expectations and even bigger wages, then leave quietly after failing to deliver. A lot of money has gone up in smoke.
It’s impossible not to think of the past: where is the ruthlessness of Burak Yılmaz? The killer instinct of Mario Gomez? The presence and charisma of Demba Ba? These were forwards who decided matches, who forced defences to step back out of sheer fear. Today, Beşiktaş often steps onto the pitch without that kind of focal point.
During the Konyaspor game, there was not a single player consistently attacking the spaces behind the defence, constantly asking questions of the back line. Without that, every attack becomes predictable, slow, and easy to read.
No vertical threat, no width, no imagination
Throughout the match, Beşiktaş lacked a player who could carry the ball forward with conviction, attack the opponent vertically, and break lines with a purposeful run or pass. Under pressure, the instinct of most players was the same: play the ball backwards.
Instead of trying to hurt the opponent, the team took the safe way out – recycling possession, but never really threatening. When a team does this repeatedly, it’s not just about “being careful”; it reveals fear, lack of confidence, and lack of a clear attacking plan.
Konyaspor often defended with six men at the back, closing down the middle. Yet Beşiktaş stubbornly kept trying to break this wall by forcing their way through the centre. There was almost no intelligent use of the wings, no attempt to stretch the defence horizontally before attacking the gaps.
Gone are the days when someone like “Atom Karınca” Rıza would bomb down the flanks, whipping in dangerous crosses from the right or left. Today, you rarely see the kind of quality delivery that unsettles defences and creates chaos in the box.
Asllani’s bittersweet debut
The new Albanian signing, Asllani, gave a brief moment of joy. Setting up a goal for his team, he instantly lifted the mood in the stadium and among viewers. You could sense the excitement: maybe this is the kind of player who can bring creativity and energy to a tired-looking side.
But that joy was short-lived. Just two minutes later, he saw a red card and left the pitch, turning his dream debut into a nightmare. This episode summed up Beşiktaş’s season perfectly: every positive step is followed by a setback, every source of hope is immediately clouded by frustration.
Still, even in that short appearance, Asllani showed flashes of personality and attacking intent. If he can learn from this early mistake and keep his discipline, he might become one of the few bright spots in an otherwise grey picture.
The captaincy question and dressing-room signals
Another detail that raised eyebrows was the decision to hand the captain’s armband to N’Didi when Orkun Kökçü was substituted. On paper, there may be reasons: seniority, experience, training ground behaviour. But from the outside, it’s not easy to understand this hierarchy.
Captaincy is not just a piece of fabric on the arm; it’s a message to the dressing room and to the fans. It tells you who the coach trusts to lead, who sets the tone when things get tough, who speaks for the team. In a group already struggling with identity and clarity, such decisions carry extra weight. When you can’t understand the logic behind them, you start wondering if the internal structure is as disorganised as the play on the pitch.
The referee and the illusion of “no controversy”
For once, the referee did not become the central figure of the evening. He didn’t make any major mistakes that overshadowed the contest or shaped the headlines. That in itself is a relief in a league often dominated by discussions about officiating.
But the absence of refereeing controversy also exposes a harsher truth: there is nowhere to hide behind excuses. This time, Beşiktaş cannot point fingers at the man in the middle. The problems lie entirely within the team’s own performance, structure, and mentality.
Three points in the bank, problems still on the table
Yes, the “Black Eagles” walked away with three points against Konyaspor. On paper, that is what counts in the standings. But anyone who watched the match with a clear eye knows that the win was forced, fragile, and far from convincing. The performance did not suggest a team on the rise; it suggested a team clinging to results while their football continues to decline.
This is the real danger: when results occasionally go your way, it’s easy to pretend that everything is under control. In reality, the cracks are getting wider. Beşiktaş might have won the battle, but if nothing changes, they are on track to lose the war of long-term stability and identity.
What needs to change?
First, the team desperately needs a defined backbone. Constantly changing the starting eleven destroys any chance of cohesion. At least the central defender partnership, the main two or three midfielders, and the primary striker must be chosen and trusted over a stretch of games. Without repetition, automatisms cannot develop.
Second, Beşiktaş must rediscover verticality and width. The team needs players – or at least a game plan – that target open spaces, not just feet. Runners attacking the channels, full-backs overlapping with purpose, wingers able to beat their man and deliver quality crosses: these are not luxuries, they are necessities in modern football.
Third, recruitment decisions up front must finally be made with a long-term vision. The club cannot afford another cycle of short-lived, expensive experiments at centre-forward. A powerful, reliable striker who fits the team’s style, presses off the ball, and can both finish and link play should be a priority, not a luxury.
Fourth, leadership on the pitch has to be clarified. Whoever wears the armband should be someone who commands respect, speaks up when the team drops its intensity, and sets the standard in training and in matches. Confusing signals about who leads only deepen the sense of instability.
The fans’ patience and the risk ahead
The most painful part of all this is what the supporters are going through. They are not asking for miracles. They know the club is not in its brightest era. But they expect at least a team that fights with a clear idea, shows a plan, and gives them moments of pride and excitement in exchange for the money and emotion they invest.
Continuing with this level of football – joyless, slow, predictable – while hoping that individual moments or lucky goals will mask the problems, is not sustainable. Today, people still fill the stands out of love and habit. If nothing changes, that loyalty will start to erode. Not overnight, but slowly, silently, irreversibly.
For now, the reality is simple: Beşiktaş won against Konyaspor, collected three valuable points, but the football they played is far from what this club’s history, badge, and fans deserve. The scoreline says “victory,” yet the performance screams “warning.”