A Letter to the Kids of My Country

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To all the kids of my beautiful country:

It’s time that I tell you my story. The whole story. 

I think a lot about our future as a footballing nation. I really hope that my journey will inspire some of you, and make you realise that anything is possible for boys and girls in Türkiye.

Only a few years ago, I was one of you. 

It’s funny ...... When I was 12 years old, I was obsessed with getting a PlayStation. You can’t even understand how bad I wanted one. Every day, I begged my dad. All I wanted was FIFA 17. 

You see, I never really played video games much as a kid, because I was always out playing football in the street. But then one day, one of my friends got a PS4 with FIFA 17, and that was like the greatest day of our lives. 

When we saw the career mode with Alex Hunter — poof. Our brains exploded. 

Do you remember Alex Hunter? Some of you are probably too young. But FIFA 17 had this mode called The Journey, and you played as this random kid named Alex. You started out as a nobody and tried to get signed by the big clubs. If you “made it,” they would show you going out of the tunnel next to stars like Cristiano Ronaldo.

It was more than a game for us. It was our actual dream, on the TV screen. We were so addicted. Every time I came home from my friends’ house, I begged my dad for a PS4. 

“I’ll be so good! I’ll study so hard!” 

But you know Turkish parents. For a long time my dad just said, “Wait a little, I gotta fix a few things …..”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but one day when I came home from school, there was a package on the kitchen table. It was a PlayStation shaped box. 

I went crazy. 

I looked at him like, “Really?!”

He said, “Really.”

When I switched it on, there were lots of games on the PlayStation already. No disc required. It seemed almost too good to be true. I was like, Wait, I had to beg Dad for one game, and now he’s giving me 20? 

I asked him, “Hey Dad, did you win the Lottery?”

He was like, “Actually …… I got a deal.”

I was like, “You mean at the store?”

He was like, “No, no, at the market …….”

Then I found out that my FIFA had no Journey mode. I couldn’t find Alex Hunter. Some of the names were weird. When I wanted to be Cristiano Ronaldo, I had to select this club called “MD White.” 

I went back to my dad. “Are you sure you got the right FIFA? Something is weird.” 

He said, “Yeah, I’m sure. Have you tried turning it on and off?” 

“Dad ……………” 

“You know what? Maybe it’s the Internet.”

I played like this for weeks. I had never tried any other football game except FIFA, so I honestly thought mine was just a different version. But then one day my friends came over to play, and they were like, “Arda ........ what is this?”

I said, “What do you mean? It’s FIFA.”

I said, “No, come on guys, this is the football game.”

They said, “Bro, where is Fenerbahçe? What are all these weird names? Your dad got scammed.” 

They were all cracking up. I was trying to laugh along with them, but I was actually so embarrassed.

But I didn’t care that I had the fake FIFA. I loved it anyway. I don’t need a real pitch or a real goal or a new PlayStation. Even if I have rocks for goalposts, I am happy. 

That’s the Turkish mentality.

I don’t need a real pitch or a real goal or a new PlayStation. Even if I have rocks for goalposts, I am happy. 

- Arda Güler

Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I did not grow up in a rich family. I am not the son of a footballer. I grew up on the first floor of an apartment block in Ankara, with a mom who was staying at home, and a dad who was running a corner shop that had just gone bust. 

Why did it go bust? Well.......

It’s the answer to 99 out of 100 questions in Türkiye. 

Football.

---

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Let’s talk about my dad. How much did he love football? I’ll tell you how much. 

When I could barely walk, he would place balloons to my left so that I would kick them. He wanted a left-footer. He doesn’t just support Fenerbahçe, he lives Fenerbahçe. He used to say that we bleed yellow and blue. I remember once when we scored in the derby, he jumped so high up from the sofa that he broke a light in the ceiling. When we missed out on the league title on the last day back in 2010, he kicked a box and injured his foot, like some character in a cartoon.

Thanks to Dad, I was Fenerbahçe from the moment I was born. Almost literally.  

One of my first wishes was to see a game in person. 

Getting tickets online was almost impossible. You’d sit with your finger on the REFRESH button, and when the clock hit 13:00 …….. 

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!!!! 

13:01.

SOLD OUT.

Every time.

But in 2014, when I was nine years old, Fenerbahçe got a stadium ban, and instead of shutting the stands, they allowed in only women and children. We knew this was our chance, so the night before the tickets went on sale, my parents, my sister and I got in the car, drove the five hours to Istanbul and lined up outside the ticket office. We got there at 5 a.m. and slept in the car until the office opened.

Third in the queue. Crazy. 

The next morning, we couldn’t believe we had those tickets in our hands. 

Going to the Şükrü Saracoğlu for the first time felt like entering some secret fantasy land. You walk up the stairs from the inside, and for each step you see a little more of the stands and the pitch until ……… you’re there. The grass opens up before you, and then you hear the noise ..... It’s incredible. There were no men in the stands, but I'm sure you could fill that stadium with kids, and the atmosphere would still be one of the best in the world. 

At some point, I actually saw Aziz Yildirim down on the pitch. Even at nine years old, I knew who he was. I ran down to try to meet him, and I was so excited that I forgot to tell Mom where I was going. Suddenly she looked at my seat and ...... Wait, where's Arda?? For 20 minutes, she thought she had lost me. She was not happy. (Sorry, Mom!)

When you hear that noise and see that grass, you are in heaven. Kids, I hope you will all get to know this feeling. 

The stadium was almost comically good compared to what I had at home. Outside our flat, I was playing on a basketball court with the older kids in the neighbourhood. Or I would be playing at my school. Or I’d be in the car park, breaking car windows that Dad had to pay for. But this is not why we went broke. 

You see, I had a PE teacher named Mahmut, and one day when I was nine, he told Dad that I should join the Gençlerbirliği academy. My dad said no because it was more than an hour away, but Mahmut had seen something in me, and he convinced him. My dad began driving me there, and whenever he was away, he left the corner shop to his business partner. I’m not sure what happened, but one day Dad took me aside and said, “Son ….. We have to close the shop.”

We were out of business.

The shop was our only source of income. Around this time I remember that my friends would invite me to go and eat waffles, and you cannot say, “Sorry, I can’t afford it.” I was always too tired, or I “couldn’t make it.” 

Thankfully, we always had food on the table. I know there are many kids who don’t even get to sleep under a roof. 

Deep down, I knew we were lucky. 

After a little while, my parents opened a new shop. That helped our situation, but when Fenerbahçe wanted me a few years later, I cannot say that we were only thinking about football. We needed money.

We spent three months trying to decide, because a decision like that changes your whole life. I was 13 years old, and my parents didn’t want me to leave home. My dream was to play for Fenerbahçe, but we also knew that it was a very big decision with a lot of risk. Nobody could be certain that I would ever become a professional footballer. 

Finally my dad said, “If you’re going to drown, drown in the big sea.”

That meant Istanbul. 

“If you’re doing OK after six months, we’ll sell everything and come with you.” 

On the day we left Ankara, Dad brought together all of our loved ones, maybe 30 people. It was my birthday, so we celebrated with a big cake, but Mom was crying and crying. I have never seen a birthday with so many tears. I promised to make her proud, and that we would soon be together in Istanbul, but the conversation I remember the most was with my sister, who is eight years older than me. 

Right before we got into the car to leave, she looked into my eyes and said, “Arda, you have to fill the fridge.”

Fill the fridge. Those were her exact words. 

“Arda, you have to make this happen.”

When you are 13, it is difficult to know how to feel about that. You are playing this game for fun, and all of a sudden your family’s future relies on you. I just remember that while we were on our way to Istanbul, I pulled out a birthday gift I had received from my dad. It was a notebook, and on the front cover there was a big title. 

ARDA 10.

I opened it and I wrote down my dreams. Number one: To play for the Fenerbahçe senior team. 

Then Dad saw the notebook, and he told me to write down everyone who had helped me, maybe 20 people, like my PE teacher, Mahmut. He never got to see me play professionally. Mahmut, may you rest in peace. 

When we arrived at the Fenerbahçe academy, I checked the time. 

19:07

The year our club was founded. Maybe it’s meant to be.

But real life is not FIFA Journey mode.

A few months later, I was so homesick that I wanted to go back to Ankara.

Honestly, I felt like giving up my dreams. 

One thing you have to understand is that Ankara and Istanbul are very different. Ankara may be the capital, but Istanbul has the money and the opportunity. One day our school allowed us to wear anything we wanted. No uniforms. The local kids turned up in designer clothes. 

I wore my uniform.

They said, “Arda, what are you doing?”

And I was like, “Ohhhhh nooooooo. I forgot. Damn.”

But I didn’t forget. I just had nothing else. 

On the team I felt even more isolated, because I was promoted to the category that was one year older, along with six or seven local kids who had been at the club for a long time. But I was the only one who got to play. They were like, “Why is this kid from Ankara playing?” Politics. Something. They froze me out. 

Just four months after I had arrived, our coach said, “Arda, you are our captain.” 

The local kids were so annoyed. 

Then the coach said, “Arda, you are our number 10.”

They went crazy. 

As you know, the 10 is sacred in Türkiye, even at the U14s. It’s not just “the creative player.” It’s our saviour. It’s Alex — the real Alex. (Look him up on YouTube, you won’t regret it.) 

I was honoured, but also scared. They told me to lead the warmup. “High knees! Sprints!” I didn’t like it. Too shy. 

I missed my family. 

One day I just went, I can’t do this anymore.

I didn’t dare to tell my dad. I was too proud. It would hurt too much. But I knew that my family was considering moving, so I told my roommate, “Text my dad. Tell him that Arda isn’t doing well.”

He was like, “Really?”

I said, “Yeah, just say that I need help.”

It worked. After that text, they moved over to Istanbul to stay with me. They sold their house. They shut down their shop. They left their friends. They bet their future on their little boy. 

If I failed, we were finished.

Thankfully, my dad found a job, and I could focus only on football. We went to play a U17s tournament in Zagreb, and the academy there had a picture of Modrić. One of the coaches grabbed my arm and said, “One day you will be like him.”

Wow. As a kid, how do you even respond to that?

Then one day, Fenerbahçe called me up for a first-team friendly. 

I was 15. I hadn’t even trained with the first team. I remember seeing how strong the seniors were. Luiz Gustavo …….. 80 kilos of lean muscle. Me? Nothing. Skin and bones.

I think it was August 2021 when Mr. Vítor Pereira called me up for my first competitive game, at home to HJK Helsinki. We had a lot of injuries, and when one of our players had to go off in the second half, Mr. Pereira turned to the bench, and he saw that he had three players left. 

One was a goalkeeper. 

The second was also a goalkeeper. 

The third was a 15-year-old kid who looked like a ball boy. 

“Arda, get ready.” 

My heart was beating so fast. When it’s PlayStation, it’s just the controller that’s shaking. In real life, it’s your whole body! Somehow, I felt calmer once I was on the pitch, and then I remembered the second dream in my notebook: 

To score a free kick for Fenerbahçe. 

I had scored them all my life. Look:

Soon we got a free kick outside the box, but I knew it belonged to José Sosa, the Argentine master. You didn’t argue with Sosa unless you were crazy, and maybe I was. 

I lined up next to him, ready to shoot. 

I think he was kind of shocked. He spoke no Turkish and I spoke no Spanish, so I said in English, “Can I kick?”

Sosa said nothing. 

I said, “Me? Or you?” 

Sosa, “..............”

“ME? YOU?”

All of a sudden the fans went whooooooooooooo. 

The stadium camera had zoomed in on my face. They could read on my lips that I wanted to take it, and I think they liked my courage. But Sosa Abi?

He was still the man. 

He took the free kick. 

Miss. 

But I will always remember that moment, and the fans’ reaction. 

After the game, I met my parents outside the stadium. Mom was crying. 

“Arda, you did it.”

Dad said nothing. He had this intense stare, as if smoke was about to come out of his ears. I was like “Dad, aren’t you happy?” 

He said, “Sosa ………. why didn’t he let you take it??”

“But Dad …….” 

“You would’ve scored. I know it!”

The stadium camera had zoomed in on my face. They could read on my lips that I wanted to take it, and I think they liked my courage.

- Arda Güler

You know, people say that Turkish fans are “passionate.” But this word is not enough. Let me tell you a quick story. 

This one time a friend of mine who supports Fenerbahçe went to the derby against Galatasaray. He was on daily medication, and when the referee denied us a penalty, he looked around for something to throw, you know? A water bottle, a chocolate bar ……. anything. He found nothing, but then he grabbed the medicine bottle in his pocket. 

He stared at it really hard. He knew he needed the medication, because he was dealing with a chronic health issue. But his hatred for Galatasaray was so big. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. 

He threw the medicine bottle onto the pitch.

Later that night, he spent hours walking around Istanbul, looking for a pharmacy. 

I think only a Turk can understand this story. 

There is no Fenerbahçe without Galatasaray — it’s an eternal rivalry and an everlasting friendship. But if you’re a Fenerbahçe fan, you’re against everything that belongs to Galatasaray. That’s just how it is. 

In this period, I just had to stay calm. All my friends were telling me to be careful, because in this game, the winds can change very quickly, and my first mistake could end it all. My dad was reading all the comments in the newspapers, just in case something negative came up.

My mom just said, “Negative stuff? How could anyone not love you?”

She always cried when people came up to her in the stands at our home games and thanked her. Of course she was happy when I scored, but if someone congratulated her on raising a good kid? That meant more to her than 100 goals for Fenerbahçe.

Remember this, kids. There are only two things more important than football. God and family. 

Especially Mom :-)

I’ll never forget the phone call I got in August 2022. 

“Arda ……… your mother. There’s something wrong with her heart. She just had emergency surgery.”

When you hear that, football disappears from your mind. Your world starts spinning. You feel this lump deep in your stomach. The doctors had to replace a valve in her heart. As she was preparing for surgery, she watched me score two goals against Kasimpaşa from her bed. Someone in my family sent me a video of her watching me celebrate and crying. I opened the video when I got back to the dressing room, and I was so scared. It was the kind of crying you do when every moment could be your last.

I cried, too. I really thought she was going to die. 

The next day, I told the club that I would not play the following game. For the first time in my life, I didn’t even want to touch a ball. 

Thankfully, Fenerbahçe were incredible. They gave me time off, and President Ali Koç made sure we had the best doctors. The surgery went well, and Mom recovered. 

No matter what you do, family is always the most important thing.  

A little more than two months after the surgery, I scored a volley against Dynamo Kyiv, and I pulled up my shirt to show a message:

ANNECIM SENI ÇOK SEVIYORUM

“Mom, I love you so much”

(I always will.)

By then I had achieved my third dream: To be Fenerbahçe’s number 10. 

I never thought it would happen, because the shirt belonged to Mesut Özil. He is the player I have learned from the most, but for three months I didn’t dare to speak to him. I was too shy. He’d pass me in the hallway going, “Hey, have a good training session.”

I’d stare right ahead and say, “OK.”

He’d say, “Arda, are you OK?”

I’d say, “Yes. Good.”

People who don’t know Özil think that he’s a little cold, but he was the one who started our friendship, because I couldn’t. One time he invited me to his room at the training ground, and there was a PlayStation there that he wasn’t using. He must have seen me looking at it with big eyes, because he said, “Arda, you can take it.” 

I said, “No, I can’t.” 

Too shy. 

“Arda, take it.”

He was so kind.

When Özil left Fenerbahçe in 2022, I thought the shirt would go to one of our new signings. I was 17 years old, and you cannot ask for the 10, the same way a king cannot ask for the crown. But the board members told me, “Arda, the shirt is yours …….. but only if you have the confidence to wear it."

I needed exactly one second to think about it. 

"I’ll take it."

When I put that shirt on for the first time ........ I don't even know how to describe it. I was not just walking in the footsteps of Alex. I was taking on the creative responsibility for the entire team and millions of fans. It was a privilege. An honour. A dream. 

Arda Güler, Fenerbahçe’s number 10. 

It was almost like winning a trophy.

When I put that shirt on, I felt invincible.

That extra responsibility made every goal important. Two weeks after the game against Dynamo Kyiv, I was scrolling Instagram, and I saw a headline:

“ARDA GÜLER IN TÜRKIYE SQUAD”

They hadn’t even told me. We were first playing Scotland in Diyarbakir, and when I was sitting on the bench, the fans were shouting for me to come on. That support meant so much to me. Sometimes when I was on the bench for Fenerbahçe, even the fans from our opponents would sing for the coach to let me play. I have never seen anything like this. What could I even say? Just thank you. 

After that, everything went very quickly. In March, I was called up for Türkiye again. 

The next few months, the transfer offers came rolling in. 

But I didn’t want to know anything about them unless they got me really excited. And then in June, my dad said he needed to call me about a new offer. 

I was like, “I told you, I don’t want to know unless ....”

He was like, “Arda .....”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Real Madrid.”

Real Madrid …….. My fourth dream. I felt unreal that it could happen so quickly. That summer my dad and I had many long conversations about whether it was too early for me to go. It was actually really complicated, because we had so many other offers, and it was hard for me to decide what to do. But then I had a FaceTime call with Mr. Carlo Ancelotti. 

I’ll never forget when his number came up on my screen, and the video was loading …… 

“Hello, Arda. How are you?” 

He was on holiday, too. The moment was so surreal that I struggle to remember the details, but I think he was wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts, and sunglasses, and maybe he even had a cigar. 

He said, “Arda, you will have a big future here. Maybe not the first year, but you will get chances. When Modrić and Kroos are too old, we could play you in midfield.”

Just hearing your name next to Modrić and Kroos is surreal. I couldn’t speak. 

Then he said, “Arda, promise me that you’ll come to Madrid. Promise, promise, promise.”

I said, “Of course, Mister.”

He said, “We’ll talk soon. Now I really have to go to my wife.”

Hahaha. I think Mr. Ancelotti was already into extra time.

When I hung up, I looked at my dad, and we agreed....

“If you are going to drown......”

“Drown in the big sea.”

When you are presented as a Real Madrid player, it’s like a wedding ceremony. Your contract is for six years, but the idea is to stay together for life. I was sitting next to my parents, and when Mom began to cry, I wiped away her tears and kissed her on the cheek.

We had given up so much to be here, and now our dream had come true. 

I was too broke to play as Alex Hunter on the PlayStation. 

So I had to become him for real.

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Right from the start, Ancelotti became like a father to me. But it was funny because he would joke with me about everything, and I was still a kid with wide-open eyes who was trying to take in the biggest club in the world. I could never tell when he was actually serious, you know?

One day Ancelotti says, “Raúl is the coach of Castilla. If you see him, say hello. You know Raúl, right?”

Of course I know Raúl. He was the captain, the top scorer. He’s a living legend.

After training the next day, this guy comes over to us. Ancelotti says, “Arda, this is Raúl.”

But the thing is, the first time you see one of these legends in the flesh, it just does not feel real. It seems fake. I’m too young to have seen Raúl actually play for Real Madrid. I only saw him on YouTube. 

Ancelotti smiles, and I’m thinking, No, he’s messing with me again. 

I say, “Come on, Mister. I’m sorry, but this is not Raúl.” 

I’m expecting Ancelotti to laugh and say, “Well done” or something, but he gives me this deadpan look and goes, “What do you mean he’s not Raúl?”

Then Raúl turns to me and says, “I am Raúl González. Nice to meet you.”

I’m like, “No you’re not. Come on." 

They can’t believe what they are hearing. It goes on like this for a few minutes, and then Ancelotti calls over Toni Kroos. 

“Toni, is this Raúl?”

“What? Of course.”

I still don't believe it. This is a big joke. I’m not falling for it. 

Then he calls over Modrić!

“Luka, is this Raúl?” 

“Of course it’s Raúl.”

Now I’m getting scared. 

Even Raúl is looking at me like, “Of course it’s Raúl.” 

They start pulling up pictures of Raúl on their phones. I finally give up and go, “OK, I’m sorry. You really are Raúl. Nice to meet you, Sir.” 

Everyone was laughing at the boy from Türkiye. Even Mr Ancelotti. 

When I came home and told my family what had happened, they looked at me and said, 

“Arda ............ you are so stupid.”

This was in my first week at Real Madrid. 

Nice start, Arda.

When I arrived, I actually found out that David Alaba and Toni Rüdiger speak some Turkish. They grew up with Turkish immigrants in Berlin and Vienna, and Alaba is a huge Galatasaray fan. Courtois played with Arda Turan, so he also knows some words, too, the bad ones. 

But it was weird because as you know, in Türkiye we address our seniors with respect. We say “Abi,” which literally means older brother. It’s coded into our culture. I could not call Modrić just “Luka.” He could be my father, you know?

So I said, “Hello Luka Abi.”

Well …….. Alaba and Rüdiger thought it was used for everyone. Even me. 

They began greeting me with, “Good morning, Abi."

The name stuck, and now it’s too late to change. I’m officially Arda Abi, the youngest older brother in the dressing room. 

Usually, you feel that you have “arrived” at a club when you’ve scored a big goal or made a decisive pass. For me, that moment actually came when we got a free kick outside the box, and I was on the bench. Modrić turned to me and said, “Hey Arda, this would be perfect for you.”

Little things like that mean a lot. 

There was another game recently where we were down at halftime, and Modrić told me, “Get ready, you need to come on.”

This legend is one of the best midfielders of all time, and now he was trusting me to turn the game around. 

I was really moved. 

I know people in Türkiye want me to play every game for Real Madrid. I do too, but I know I have to be patient. When Ancelotti says that I can become one of the best midfielders in the world, it shows that the club has a plan for me.

But being on the bench is not easy. When we won the Champions League, I didn’t actually feel like lifting the trophy, because I hadn’t contributed that much on the pitch. That’s why I was so shy when Ancelotti gave me the mic at Cibeles. I wasn’t planning to go to the top of the bus at all, because I was really tired, and I remember that two of my friends were texting me, “Where are you? We can’t see you.” 

I was downstairs talking to Kroos and Modrić, and Modrić was asking me whether Mourinho was going to Fenerbahçe. My friends were like, “Are you crazy?? You just won the Champions League! Go up and celebrate!” 

I’m just like this. It’s not enough to win a title. I have to feel like I’ve earned it. 

That’s why the Euros felt different. When I scored against Georgia, my phone exploded. Likes. Followers. Messages. Congratulations. Crazy. 

For our match against Portugal, I was a little nervous. I hoped that Ronaldo would talk to me after the game, because I respect him so much. Then on the day of the game, Marca printed this front page: 

“GÜLER CHALLENGES CRISTIANO”

Oh, no …..

The truth was, I was honoured to share the pitch with Cristiano. Have you seen The Last Dance? Cristiano is like Michael Jordan. A headline like that is fuel to him. Portugal won 3–0, and after the game he did not speak to anyone. 

A few days later I understood how he felt, because on the bus on our way to the stadium, I saw a video of a group of Austria fans. 

They were saying, “Who the f*** is Arda Güler?” 

I was shocked. Why would anyone say this about me?

But then I remembered when Mr. Jorge Jesus had left me out of the team for weeks at Fenerbahçe. One day he lined up two teams to practice free kicks, and I wasn’t in any of them. I was on my own taking corners. It was pouring down, and when I got home I cried so much. I promised myself that I would never have this feeling again. 

People see me as a creative player, but I am also a warrior.

You put me on the bench? I’ll work harder. 

You talk s*** about me? I’ll crush you. 

When I saw that Austria clip, I was the one going into Michael Jordan mode. They kept singing about me at the game. They threw beer cups at me. 

Perfect. 

When I assisted our second goal, I turned to the Austria fans.

Thank you.

I guess I took that personally.

When we lost in the quarterfinals, I wondered if people back home would turn on us, but they had seen how much we’d fought for our country. In Türkiye, character is everything. Rüdiger told me he had noticed my passion and anger. When Rüdiger says anger, he means it in a good way. I have always given my teammates instructions, even as a teenager at Fenerbahce. I can’t help it. If I stop, I’ll play badly. I want to be a leader, I want to take corners and free kicks, always. Just ask Mr. Sosa. 

Playing for Madrid is actually easy. You know that Modrić will find your run. Vinícius will make even a bad pass look good. The hard part is learning Spanish, adapting to the culture and staying grounded. So it’s good that my family visits me once a month, and that Mom still tells me to tidy my room. She always says that if I wasn’t a footballer, we would be in big trouble. 

Thankfully, the fridge is full.

Since leaving Ankara, I have kept writing down the names of the people who have helped me get here. We are far above 20. Mom, Dad, my sister, my friends, my coaches, my presidents, PE teacher Mahmut, the doctors who saved my mom’s life…..

No matter who you are, you cannot do it alone. 

I turned 20 earlier this year. There are so many more dreams in my notebook. I want to become an important player for Madrid. I want to earn that Champions League title. I’d love to be the number 10 at this club, too. 

Above all, I want to lead the way for a new generation of Turkish players.

I know that I am the big hope of Turkish football, but I don’t want to be the only one. I want to open the door for everyone else. 

That means you guys, who are reading this letter.

When I go home and find how happy you are to see me, I get emotional. The songs are still ringing in my ears. I can feel your love from Madrid. 

There is a video from the earthquake in 2023 that gives me the chills. It was recorded when I was not playing so much for Fenerbahçe. Maybe you have seen it. Two guys from the rescue teams are with a little boy who has just been dug out of the rubble. The boy is lying down, his body is covered, and his head is sticking out. You can hear the sirens. The boy has spent nearly five days under the cement blocks, thinking he was going to die, and he has a message for me.

For me! In that moment! 

I will never forget these words.

Arda Güler Abi
I love you so much
Keep saving Fenerbahçe
Abi please tell the coach to let you play

Then one of the two heroes says:

He didn’t give up, and neither should you.

When I hear those words, how can I?

So to every kid in Türkiye with a PlayStation and a dream: 

Grab a ball and run outside. You will feel like you own the world. 

Sincerely, 

— Arda