İlhan Fakılı and the Call-Up to Turkey: Four Years at Clermont Through Grégory Proment's Account

İlhan Fakılı and the Call-Up to Turkey: Four Years at Clermont Through Grégory Proment's Account

A moment of silence in Clermont-Ferrand

Grégory Proment did not know.

That is the first thing I kept from his answer. When he was asked about İlhan Fakılı appearing on the Turkish national team squad list, the 47-year-old who once worked with the young player at Clermont answered plainly: "I did not know he had been called up. This is wonderful news."

People often write that a coach "could not hide his joy" when a former pupil breaks through. But there is a more interesting detail here: Proment did not know. He was not the man the Turkish federation phoned in advance. He was not on the list of people who received an internal note. He learned the news one beat later than the public — or at the same moment, through the press.

For someone who covers sport, that detail carries weight. The Hồng Khẩu corridor taught me one thing: news has a breathing rhythm. Some information travels ahead of the people involved, and some arrives behind their backs. İlhan Fakılı pulling on a national shirt belongs to the second kind. It was not announced through a polite phone call to an old coach in central France. It arrived the way all news arrives: through a list, a line with a name on it, and a morning when someone opens their phone.

But precisely because Proment did not know in advance, his answer is trustworthy. If he had known three days earlier, the story would have been staged. A coach who knows in advance has time to prepare his words, choose his vocabulary, arrange his memories in a pleasant order. Proment had none of that. He spoke in genuine surprise, and genuine surprise is the only thing that cannot be performed.

I have sat in enough empty corridors to tell two kinds of answers apart: the kind that is thought up and the kind that is blurted out. Proment's was the second kind. And in the second kind, people tend to reveal the things the first kind hides.

Context: a boy who travelled from Montpied to Beşiktaş

To understand why this story deserves time, the road has to be rebuilt.

Clermont Foot is not a large club. It sits in Clermont-Ferrand, a mountain city in central France with a few hundred thousand people, better known for its extinct volcanoes and its tyre brand than for football. The Stade Montpied holds a modest crowd. The club's transfer budget has sat in the lowest group of French professional football for years. What Clermont has, instead of money, is a patient development system and a clear philosophy: buy cheap, coach well, sell high.

İlhan Fakılı arrived there very young. And according to Grégory Proment, who worked with him directly in that early period, the striking thing was not his build or his raw speed. It was his technique and his ability to beat a man.

"When he played his first match with me, I noticed his talent immediately. Despite being very young, he already had wonderful technique and very good dribbling ability. He already had all the sporting and human qualities needed to succeed quickly," Proment said.

That sentence has a structure worth unpacking. Proment does not talk about speed, strength or height. He talks about technique and dribbling — both individual skills, the hardest things to teach at professional level. Speed can be improved with a physical programme. Strength can be built in the gym. But the feel for the ball at high speed and the ability to escape a marker in a tight space are either there from childhood or never arrive.

An experienced youth coach usually sees this first, because it is the thing that cannot be fixed. Everything else can be shaped.

And Proment did shape it. He says that during Fakılı's time at Clermont the player had two clear weaknesses: finishing inside the box, and the quality of his decision-making in choice moments on the pitch.

"Early on he had a few shortcomings in finishing in front of goal and in decision-making, in the moments of choice on the pitch. We focused specifically on finishing drills in front of goal. Over time his decision mechanism and the quality of his choices increased noticeably. His goalscoring start at Beşiktaş therefore does not surprise me at all."

This is the core of the story, and it is the part the media usually skips because it is not glamorous.

Fans remember the dribbles, the goals, the moments. They do not remember the afternoons of individual work with a coach in a corner of a small club's training ground in central France. But those afternoons decide which players continue and which players stop.

At youth level there is a fairly cruel rule I have run into many times: plenty of young players have enough technique to stand out at under-17 and under-19 level, but not enough decision-making to survive at professional level. The difference is not in the foot. It is in the half second before the foot touches the ball.

Proment describes that improvement in the technical language of a coach: "decision mechanism" and "quality of choices". That is not the vocabulary of the media. It is the vocabulary of someone who works on a pitch every day. And it reveals something important: Fakılı is not a naturally explosive talent in the child-prodigy sense. He is a talent built with a plan, a pathway, and someone accountable for tracking him.

That matters for the bigger picture, because it suggests Fakılı is not the kind of player who peaks in a flash. Players built through a process tend to have a different kind of durability from players who rise on a single moment.

Vincenzo Italiano and the left-wing problem

When Fakılı left Clermont, the destination was Beşiktaş. And at Beşiktaş the man in the dugout is Vincenzo Italiano — one of the most closely watched Italian coaches of his generation, known for organising his teams proactively, for controlling the ball, and above all for how he uses wide players.

This is where the technical story acquires concrete tactical meaning.

Proment was asked about Fakılı's best position and answered clearly: "İlhan is an intelligent player, he adapts easily to different systems. But you get the highest output when he plays on the left side of a 4-3-3, 4-2-3-1 or 4-4-2, close to the touchline. He has long since adapted to Vincenzo Italiano's system; thanks to his tactical intelligence he will have no problem."

Three numbers. 4-3-3. 4-2-3-1. 4-4-2.

All three share one feature: they have a left winger operating in the wide channel, a player who must both hold the team's width and be able to drift inside when needed. This is not the old-fashioned pure dribbler's role, the man who only faces the full-back and crosses. It is a hybrid position that demands tactical reading and individual unpredictability at the same time.

What stands out is that Proment does not say "left wing" in a general way. He says "close to the touchline". That phrase matters more than it looks.

A winger who plays near the touchline has two advantages. First, he stretches the opposing defensive line horizontally, opening space for the players who drift inside. Second, he receives the ball in a zone with fewer opponents, where one successful dribble creates immediate danger. In other words, this position turns the dribbling ability — Fakılı's natural strength — into a systematic weapon.

And this is where Proment's thinking shows. He does not push his player into a central role, where there is more physical contact and less space. He keeps him where there is space, time, and the chance to use technique as an advantage. A coach who understands his player is one who puts him where he is strongest, not where he most needs to improve.

I have seen this repeat many times in my career covering teams. Players placed in the wrong position are often undervalued for years, until another coach puts them in the right place and they suddenly "improve". In truth they did not improve. They were simply used correctly.

The next question is whether Italiano can do that. Proment believes so, and his reason is notable: tactical intelligence. That is a compliment with weight, because he is not talking about natural talent or technique but about the ability to understand a system. For a young player moving from Ligue 1 to a major Turkish club, in a league with a different intensity and pressure, learning a system quickly is a survival condition.

What Proment says without saying it

The next part of Proment's answer concerns the Beşiktaş attack, and this is where the text needs to be read beneath the surface.

"İlhan is a player as productive as his team-mates. Beşiktaş's attack has a very effective structure. As they play together more they will feed each other, and they will all keep scoring thanks to each other."

A diplomatic answer, one could say. But one thing stands out: Proment speaks of "feeding each other". That is the language of a coach, not a pundit. It implies a process, not a result. And that process involves ball distribution, off-ball movement and, most importantly, mutual understanding between attacking players.

In an attack full of stars, the classic problem is not a lack of talent. It is the division of the ball, the division of roles, and the division of egos. An attack with four or five players who all want the ball at their feet can produce a lower total output than an attack of three players who understand exactly who does what.

For a young player entering that structure, the question is not whether he is good enough. The question is whether he knows when to give the ball up. And here the "decision-making" skill Proment mentioned reappears, this time at a higher level.

At Clermont, decisions were simpler: he was one of the best players, so most correct decisions were decisions for himself. At Beşiktaş, surrounded by equals or superiors, decision-making becomes far more complex. There are situations where the right decision is to release the ball to someone in a better position, even when you have an opportunity yourself.

This is the kind of adjustment no finishing drill can teach. It has to be learned in matches, and it has to be learned under pressure.

That is why Fakılı's strong goalscoring start at Beşiktaş is a more significant signal than a normal scoring run. Scoring inside a crowded attack is a much harder metric than scoring in a team where every ball passes through you.

The counter-intuitive angle: three misunderstandings from outside

When a young player is called up to the national team, outside reaction tends to follow a few well-worn grooves. This is where I want to use my professional position and speak plainly.

Misunderstanding one: "A young player has no room at a big club."

This is a cliché that sounds realistic but is often wrong case by case. At a big club a young player gets fewer opportunities in quantity, but the quality of those opportunities is higher. When a young player is given a chance at a big club and takes it, he draws many times the attention of the same performance at a small club. And in modern football, attention converts directly into the next opportunity.

Proment says several leading European clubs will soon track Fakılı. That is not empty praise. It is an observation about how the transfer market works.

Misunderstanding two: "A national team call-up is the peak for a young player."

In reality, for a young player, the first call-up is often the most dangerous moment of his career. Not because of the glory, but because of the calendar.

A player who has just moved to a new club, who is still adapting to a new league, who is still proving himself to a new coach, now also has an international window. This is a period when the body carries a heavy load and the mind carries heavy pressure. Many young players with strong starts dip in this phase — not because they got worse, but because they are overloaded.

The lesson I drew from years of covering national teams is this: do not judge a young player by his first call-up. Judge him by his return to club football afterwards. If he holds his form over the following four to six weeks, that is a real signal.

Misunderstanding three: "Europe's top clubs will come immediately."

Proment says this, and to some degree he is right. But a distinction is needed between "tracking" and "making an offer".

In modern football, scouting is organised on an industrial scale. A rising young player enters the watchlists of dozens of clubs within weeks. But those watchlists run into thousands of names. That means very little.

What means something is when a specific club sends a specific scout to a specific match. That is the next step, and it usually happens at the end of a season, not after a few opening games.

So when a coach says "big clubs will track him", that should be understood as a probabilistic forecast, not an announcement. I have heard this sentence about many young players. Some of them go on. Most do not, for reasons unrelated to talent: injury, a change of coach, a change of system, or simply another player in the same position progressing faster.

Reading signals from what Proment chooses to say and not say

In my trade there is an unwritten rule: what is said is usually less important than what is omitted. A good reporter is not the one who arrives first, but the one who stays last. And the one who stays last hears even the sentences that were never spoken.

Proment talks a great deal about technique, decisions and position. He does not talk much about physicality, defensive ability or endurance. That gap is notable.

For a modern winger, the defensive phase takes up a significant share of playing time. A winger in Italiano's system has to take part in high pressing and has to drop to support the full-back when the team loses the ball. It is a very high physical demand, and it is usually the weak point of young players with good technical foundations.

Proment's silence on this may have many reasons. Perhaps the question did not go that way. Perhaps he did not want to discuss a former pupil's weaknesses in the media. Perhaps he considered it unnecessary.

Whatever the reason, this is the aspect to watch. In modern football, a winger who attacks well but cannot defend will be exploited very quickly at national team level, where opponents analyse in detail. At club level a coach can hide the weakness by tasking another player to cover. At national team level, with short camps and few chances to adjust, weaknesses tend to show more clearly.

Another aspect deserves attention: Proment says Fakılı "adapted to Italiano's system long ago". The phrase "long ago" can cover a relative period rather than many years. For a player who has just moved to a new club and a new league, "adapting" and "mastering" are two different levels. Adapting to a system's basic principles is not the same as mastering its detailed situations.

There is one thing I always watch when a young player changes league: the difficult phase is not the first ten matches. The difficult phase is the next ten, when opponents have video of you, when the coach understands your weaknesses, and when the weight of expectation has grown. That is when the difference between a good player and a very good player appears.

In a dressing room, people leave behind boots, the smell of sweat, and unfinished sentences. Unfinished sentences usually carry more information than complete statements. In this case, the unfinished sentence is the one about defending.

From Clermont to Ankara: what actually changes

One point must be stressed about the Turkish national team context.

Turkish football has a characteristic that observers from outside often underestimate: the level of emotional pressure. In a country where football is tightly bound to national identity and where national team matches are followed with great intensity, pulling on the shirt for the first time is a qualitatively different experience from playing at club level.

For a young player who grew up abroad, as Fakılı did in France, there is an additional factor: the connection with the domestic audience. He is judged by a different yardstick — not that of a player developed inside the domestic system, but that of a player returning from outside. And in Turkish football that kind of expectation is usually heavier.

This is why the endorsement of a French coach carries specific weight. It is not only professional praise. It is a legitimisation from an external system, something domestic audiences often find more credible than internal assessment.

I have seen this mechanism many times. A young player rated highly abroad is accepted faster at home. A young player rated highly only at home is always doubted until he proves himself abroad. It is a small but real injustice, and it exists in almost every football nation.

Proment's words therefore do double duty: they confirm ability, and they confirm the validity of the selection.

The Beşiktaş attack and the question of symbiosis

Back to Proment's assessment of the Beşiktaş attack. He says it has "a very effective structure" and that the players "will feed each other".

That judgment needs to be placed in a concrete tactical setting.

An effective attack is not a collection of good players. It is a system in which players occupy different areas of space, move according to rules that complement each other, and generate varied attacking options from the same basic structure.

In such an attack, the value of a left winger depends on whether he understands his team-mates' movement rules. When the left-back advances, the left winger must decide: drift inside to vacate the channel, or hold position to create a switch option. When the central striker drops to receive, the left winger must decide: run into the space behind, or hold the width.

Each of those decisions happens in about a second. And in an attack with many good players, a wrong decision does not only spoil your own chance. It spoils an entire chain of chances, because the whole system moves on the assumption that everyone does their part correctly.

This is the highest level of the "decision mechanism" Proment refers to. And it is why I believe his judgment on Fakılı has a real basis rather than being social politeness.

A coach who has worked with a player through the most important stage of his development will know precisely how far that player can learn. Proment does not say Fakılı will succeed immediately. He says Fakılı "will have no problem" with the system. That is a forecast about adaptability, not about output. And adaptability is the kind of forecast a youth coach has enough data to make.

What to watch over the next six months

From what Proment says, several specific signals can be drawn.

First, the position. If Fakılı is used mainly on the left, close to the touchline, the system is operating as Proment predicted. If he is pushed inside or forced to switch flanks regularly, that suggests the system is not yet optimising his strengths.

Second, minutes played in the period after international windows. That is a more important metric than total minutes, because it shows whether the player can carry a double load.

Third, involvement in final attacking situations. A winger can touch the ball a great deal while contributing little to decisive moments. What matters is where he is in the last second of an attacking move.

Fourth, and most important, the appearance of specific scouts. When a specific club sends someone to a specific match, that is a real signal. Watchlists mean nothing. Physical presence means something.

One thing I have learned from years of following young players: their careers rarely move in straight lines. They move in jumps, and the jumps usually happen at unexpected moments. One player can stall for two years and then explode in six months. Another can explode in six months and then stall for two years. And the outside observer usually sees only the moment, never the process.

That is why testimony from someone who was inside the process has its own value. Proment did not see the moment. He saw the finishing afternoons, the corrections to decisions, the times a player understood something and changed. That is data no video can capture.

Waiting is not doing nothing. Waiting is listening to the pitch whisper. And in this case, the pitch has been whispering from Clermont-Ferrand for years.

What remains after a phone call

There is one image I keep from years of covering football: a club chef still cooking full portions for a team with nobody left to feed. Old Châu's ghost team still eats hot rice, in the crowdless Shanghai cold. People tend to think football lives in big moments: goals, trophies, call-ups to the national team.

It does not.

Football lives in the afternoons when a 47-year-old coach in a mountain city in France gives his time to a young player practising finishing. In the times the boy chose wrong and was corrected. In a stretch of time long enough for small changes to accumulate into a different player.

When the news of Fakılı's call-up arrived, Proment did not know. He was not present in that moment. But he was present in all the moments before it — the ones nobody filmed, nobody reported, nobody remembers.

And when he was asked, the first thing he mentioned was not goals, not fame. He mentioned technique and dribbling — the things the boy already had. Then he mentioned finishing and decision-making — the things the boy had to learn. That is the order of a working coach: identify what cannot be taught, then talk about what was taught.

The thing I want to watch next is not whether Fakılı becomes a star in Europe. The thing I want to watch is whether he returns to Clermont one day, not to visit, but to do the same for another young player. Because that cycle — the taught becoming the teacher — is the only thing that keeps the development systems of small clubs alive.

And if he does, then a call-up that Proment did not know about will mean more than one cap. It will be a link in a much longer chain.