Anorthosis Mouttagiakas: Cypriot soccer soul

Words: Laura Gates

Images: Laura Gates

Anorthosis Mouttagiakas F.C, founded in 1989 in Mouttagiaka, Cyprus.

Game vs Ethnikos Assias, 10th October 2026.

Like any other football fan on holiday, I naturally wanted to sniff out any sort of game I could find while on my holiday to Cyprus.

Unfortunately, the ability to go to a bigger game was taken away from me as my parents had booked a meal in town at a local place that clashed with Karmiotissa vs Omonia.

So, I chose a third division match between Anorthosis Mouttagiakas F.C and Ethnikos Assias. I didn’t care, it was a Saturday afternoon and football was available to immerse myself in. Plus, I naturally had my camera.

©Laura Gates/ Terrace Edition. Anorthosis Mouttagiakas.

I found the game via the trusty Futbology app, locals at the hotel hadn’t really heard of them, and wondered why I wasn't more interested in Arsenal vs Leeds that they had playing at the hotel bar.

At this point, the Premier League is more of a hindrance.

Naturally, I showed my phone to the cab driver and assumed that would be that… wrong.

He dropped me off at a kids astro pitch which, to me anyway, was the middle of nowhere. It was hot and kick-off was 15 minutes away.

Checking maps, it looked like I had a 27 minute long walk to the Municipal Stadium of Germasogeia as no taxis were picking up.

Off I went. Camera in one hand and lukewarm water in the other. I was determined to get my football fix.

I would’ve beaten the 27 minutes set by Google Maps if it hadn’t taken me the wrong way, where I ended up in the pool area of someone’s back garden.

I could hear the football over the fence. Fans were singing and the distinctive sound of a referee's whistle had blown.

Kick-off had long gone and the home team had taken a 1-0 lead. Frustrating. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it.

That left me no choice but to follow the sound and the floodlights above, eventually wading through bushes and pacing up a small mound with a break in the grass, to finally find the ticket gate.

I was met by a woman and her baby, sat on a plastic chair. Everyone seemed friendly and spoke English. Entry was a modest €6 and my favourite part of all… a proper ticket stub.

Funny the things you miss with modern football. A physical ticket for the first time in a long time. I’ll be keeping that.

A bar welcomed you on the way in which was cheap and cheerful. I could get rid of the lukewarm water and pay €2 for something much more refreshing. Result.

The game itself was wonderfully scrappy, tackles were flying in and the crowd were up for it. Proper bleachers, nothing fancy.

Fellas drinking and smoking, cracking peanuts out of their shells and screaming at the referee.

I could spend many an afternoon here.