Újpest: Purple Night — Terrace Edition

Words: Jonas Zöller

Images: Jonas Zöller

As we made our way to the airport, I did what I always do – check the weekend fixtures.

You all know the drill. I had to remind myself again: this wasn’t supposed to be a groundhopping trip.

Time to lower expectations a bit.

In fact, when we planned the weekend in Budapest, football wasn’t part of the plan at all. We were heading to the Hungarian capital to visit a friend spending his semester abroad.

What awaited us was perfect weather, a few cold beers, and the undeniable beauty of the city.

©Jonas Zöller/ Terrace Edition. Újpest. Hungary.

The problem? Just three days in town, and no one in the group really cared about catching a football match. A few weeks earlier I had mentioned the “small” derby between Ferencváros and MTK Budapest in the group chat – but the decision went in favour of a small day festival just outside the city.

So far, so good – no new ground then. I had already made peace with that idea when I gave the fixtures one last look.

And there it was. One game that just seemed too perfect to ignore: Saturday night, under the floodlights, Szusza Ferenc Stadium: Újpest vs. DVTK.

After a few minutes of digging, I was convinced. Turns out Újpest is one of the country’s most historic clubs, and the ticket? A ridiculous 1,000 forint – about €2.50.

The club had decided to offer that price for all remaining home games of the season to calm tensions with supporters after their early-season form had dropped off.

©Jonas Zöller/ Terrace Edition. Újpest FC vs Diósgyőri VTK.

After dinner, I said goodbye to the group and headed north on the Budapest metro. I didn’t expect much and knew little about Hungarian football or fan culture. So I just followed the route, switched from metro to bus, and watched the purple-and-white crowd grow at each stop.

For the final stretch to the ground, I walked among the Újpest fans. On that mild early summer night, you could feel it – the air already carried football.

The stadium is located on a main road in Budapest’s 4th district, with a Tesco, McDonald’s, car workshop and tanning salon next door.

And yet – somehow I liked the setting.

Fans trickled in from the surrounding side streets, scarves were being sold here, sunflower seeds over there – and the brightly lit floodlight masts towered above it all.

The ticket came from a very friendly older lady at the booth – her English honestly surprised me. The same couldn’t be said for the security guards. When I arrived at the turnstiles, the Hungarian national anthem was playing, and it took several attempts to understand that checks were paused during the anthem.

Once through, I made my way up to the stands. That moment – when you climb the last steps and catch your first glimpse inside a stadium – it never really loses its magic.

Szusza Ferenc holds 13,501, and with 5,187 tickets sold that night, it felt decently packed – perhaps thanks to the ticket prices.

I ended up on the busy back straight, and the home end, led by the Ultra Viola Bulldogs-Ultras‘ got going with real energy.

I was surprised by the melodic style of the chants – a very Italian vibe from the purple-and-white crowd.

In the away sector, around 300 fans had made the 200 km journey from Miskolc. Their support, in contrast, was what you’d expect from Eastern Europe: raw, loud.

On the pitch, the home side played well and took a deserved 1–0 lead in the 48th minute, only to concede not long after – 1–1 the final result.

Despite the unsatisfying scoreline and the bleak table situation, something lingered in the air that night.

Maybe it was the home end, going through their chants as if nothing on the pitch could break their rhythm.

Perhaps it was the way people on the opposite stand wore their purple-and-white scarves. I’m not sure. But you could feel it – something proud drifting through the stadium.

Maybe not pride of the current team, and maybe not of the last few years.

But people carried the club’s past, its legends and history, with them under those lights.

After the game, I skipped the metro and called an Uber – which turned out to be a lucky move.

My driver, Bence, was a passionate Újpest supporter, and visibly proud that a tourist had ended up at his club. We quickly started talking about its long, winding history. Bence spoke about league titles in the 1920s, European appearances in the mid-70s, and the decline that followed.

After the fall of the communist regime, the club entered financial trouble – and despite two domestic cup wins in the 2010s, they never fully recovered.

Then came Puskás Academy – the pet project of Hungary’s Prime Minister Orbán – a cash-rich newcomer that shook up the top tier. Historically, Újpest’s fiercest rival was always Ferencváros. While‚ ‘Fradi‘, backed by foreign investors, came to dominate Hungarian football in the new millennium, the club from the fourth district wasn’t so lucky.

As Bence explained with a mix of pride and frustration, the takeover by a Belgian investor wasn’t the success hoped for.

The new owner took changed the club’s crest, never the most popular move.

The promised success never came. In early 2024, after negotiations, the club was sold again – this time to a Hungarian oil and gas company.

Similar to so many places, another sale became a new reason to dream of old glories.

Bence still believed in a better future for his club. We talked a bit more about away-days, fan culture and Hungarian football before he dropped me off with the others – and I disappeared back into the Budapest night and it was purple.

Jonas is on Instagram: @fadingfloodlights

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