It was 3.15 in the morning. I’d been sitting for five-and-a-half hours, in clouds of cigar smoke, inside the executive lounge of the Georgios Kairaskakis Stadium, waiting for my final audience with the King of Piraeus.

That isn’t his official title, but it might as well be. Because most things in this southern part of Athens are either run or influenced by Evangelos Marinakis: the enigmatic, mysterious and imposing owner of Olympiacos in Greece, Nottingham Forest in England, Rio Ave in Portugal and [we expect soon] Vasco de Gama in Brazil.

Myself and cameraman Chris Johnson spent three days in southern Greece, where we were granted unprecedented access to Marinakis and his football and business operations. The trip had been more than a year in the planning, largely because the man himself, and his enormous cast of advisors and support staff, needed repeated convincing that allowing Sky Sports into his inner sanctum was a project worth his time.

I had finally reached agreement in principle six months or so ago, in the late spring – the subsequent delays were logistical, because he is infinitely busy, with an ever-changing schedule. As it was, we flew to Greece far from certain that he would be able to see us – he’d been delayed on business in America, and the carefully planned itinerary had already gone out of the window before we touched down on the Athens tarmac.

In the end, we got what we went for. And then some. We were afforded a unique insight into the man and his empire, including the most personal and revealing UK interview he has ever done.

This is the story of Evangelos Marinakis: his life, his work and his love of football.

It was, without doubt, one of the strangest, most unsettling, but most memorable interview experiences of my life, spread over three days in the South of Athens.

Marinakis’ estimated worth is in excess of £2.5 billion. His shipping empire has more than 100 ships, with a total of around 20,000 crew members at sea at any one time. He is an influential local councillor in Piraeus, and all the people in this port district of Athens are as daunted as they are adoring of this larger-than-life personality.

Marinakis’ generosity is widely recognised throughout the land. He has given millions to a children’s cancer charity, he produced 60,000 free hot meals for refugees who arrived in Piraeus from the Middle East, and during the Covid pandemic, he was ahead of the Greek government in buying and providing key medical equipment for local hospitals. In return, he demands total respect, and is fastidious in his requirements.

He has a vast personal security operation, which underlines just how valuable his estate is, and how important he is in Greece. When we first arrived at his Capital Maritime offices in Piraeus and pulled up outside, our hire car was immediately surrounded by a host of black-clad security guards, who demanded to know who we were, why we were there, and whether we had permission.

Without ceremony, they took our car keys, and we wondered whether we would ever see the car again. Marinakis has an extensive personal security operation that accompanies him everywhere he goes. When he travels in his home town, several motorcycle outriders flank his car – even if he is popping to his favourite restaurant, who always keep his usual table ready, just in case he decides he is hungry.

Marinakis’ determination to protect himself and his reputation is epitomised by what happened in the UK High Court a few weeks ago. He is suing the chairwoman of Aris Thessaloniki for defamation, claiming that she has waged a smear campaign against him.

He claims Irini Karipides organised a mobile billboard to parade around the City Ground on Nottingham Forest matchdays, and also set up a website to spread damaging revelations about him. In turn, she claims Marinakis has held a grudge against her family for years which goes beyond any football or business rivalry. Marinakis vehemently denies those allegations and at huge expense, is determined to clear his name in the High Court.

Whether in football or business, he is exacting in his standards. Marinakis demands the very best of everything, but he shares that bounty with all of the chosen ones around him, especially with his lavish hospitality. For all the time we were in Piraeus, we were offered the finest seafood, and a constant stream of the very best wines (which, I should point out, we didn’t partake in). Even when we thought we were having a quiet meal on our own, when I tried to pay, I was informed by the staff that our bill had already been settled. Everyone knows him in these parts, and his influence and generosity spread far and wide.

We’d been in Greece for more than 24 hours, and had seen no sign of Mr Marinakis. He had only flown in from America in the early hours, we were told, and was resting. He never likes to be disturbed anyway before lunchtime. He always works late into the night, as we were to learn.

He doesn’t sleep much, he later told me off camera, his mind never at rest. A lot of his time in the quietest hours of the day are spent creating his own original oil paintings and other forms of art, as an unexpected form of release from the inevitable strains of being one of the richest and most successful businessmen on the planet. He has his own art gallery on the ground floor of his shipping offices which is awash with original modern artworks, intermingled with those he has created himself.

So, in his absence, we were given a tour of the atmospheric, historical Olympiacos stadium, of the well-appointed Olympiacos training ground, and [cameras off for this bit] we were treated to a luxurious lunch by the port side with some of his nearest and dearest aides. “When might we get to do our first filming with Mr Marinakis?” I enquired. No one could tell me. Except to say only when – and if – he felt ready.

Then, out of nowhere, there was a flurry of activity among his advisors, who had clearly all received simultaneous messages that said he wanted to see me in an hour’s time. Arrangements were made, plans changed, and we sped to the other side of the city to set up at his business headquarters, where we were met by those fervent security guards. Within Piraeus, he has three separate corporate bases, depending on the work he is doing and the clients he is entertaining.

Once inside, we were shown to one of his boardrooms to continue our wait. Eventually, we were taken through to his enormous office to set up the cameras. Inside was a huge walnut desk, a circular eight-seater solid walnut conference table, plush leather sofas and an incredible array of photos and memorabilia. And a giant red bulldog statue on the floor which was too heavy to move.

Photo frames were everywhere, mostly filled with pictures of his family. One wall was taken up entirely by religious imagery, with a huge depiction of Jesus Christ in the centre. Marinakis was brought up in a devout Greek Orthodox family, and religion remains very important to him.

Above his desk was a huge, old-style map of the world, measuring maybe 12 feet by eight feet, with magnetic ships dotted in every single ocean of the globe. This is how Marinakis likes to plot where his huge fleet is at any one time, he later explained to me. To me, it looked a logistical nightmare. But he told me he finds it therapeutic, and calming, to know he is across all of his assets.

On the side wall was what can only be described as a shrine to his father – Miltiadis Marinakis – who was his mentor and his inspiration. A shipping tycoon from Crete, Marinakis senior had also bought a stake in Olympiacos FC, and often took a young Evangelos with him to see the players or spend time at the club, firstly in the 1970s.

So it is that the son is following in the father’s footsteps, whilst also massively expanding both the family business and sporting empires. Above and beyond football, Marinakis invests in and supports 17 other sports in Piraeus and beyond, including volleyball, water polo, sailing, boxing, athletics, and taekwondo.

He has begun to replicate that multi-sport model in England too, with the newly created Nottingham Forest Netball franchise, and Marinakis’ decision to make the whole Forest women’s team full-time professionals, who play their home matches at the City Ground, even though they are currently in the third tier.

After waiting another 45 minutes or so while Marinakis finished a business call in another room, finally I got to meet the man himself, as he re-entered his office. He cuts an imposing figure, with his large stature and regal beard, but there is a natural charm to his persona too. He greeted me with a warm smile, a firm handshake and a look in his steely eyes which seemed to warn me, before we even started, that I shouldn’t try any trick questions. As if I would dare.

After some polite football small talk and much discussion with his advisers about whether his chair was comfortable and the backdrop suitable, we got down to business. The cameras started rolling. I wanted to know firstly about his family, and why Piraeus and Olympiacos were so important to him. Things started well, he was amiable and engaging. Then I interrupted one of his answers.

I was determined – as I always am with my interviews – that this should be a conversation, not an “I ask, you answer” formal tennis match. But it quickly became apparent to me that this is not a man used to being interrupted.

Now, his momentum stemmed, he paused for what felt like a lifetime, looked at me low and stern through his piercing brown eyes, said simply “yes” and continued with his statement, ignoring my diversion. Undeterred, I continued in my conversational style, hoping to break down some barriers. A risky strategy for sure. His advisors twitched nervously in their seats. But my interviewee seemed to appreciate the approach. He began to open up, and suddenly nothing was off the agenda.

Pretty soon, Marinakis offered up a hugely unexpected tender side, as he welled up with tears when I asked him to tell me about the moment he took the Europa Conference League trophy to his father’s graveside. Won by Olympiacos in May, they became the first Greek club ever to claim a major UEFA trophy. It was one of the most emotional moments of his life, and he wanted to dedicate it and share it with his father, he said – the man who had inspired him, and first instilled in him a love of football.

I apologised for upsetting him, and he smiled reassuringly at me. That seemed to break the ice still further, as he warmed to our conversation.

What came next was a revealing and deeply personal conversation. He spoke openly about his family, his background, his love for Olympiacos and Piraeus, and his long-rooted admiration for Nottingham Forest, which had been born during his time at boarding school in England in the early 1980s, when, he said, Forest and Liverpool were the two dominant English teams. Both played in red, he pointed out – matching the Olympiacos colours, and a prerequisite for him to become a fan, and later the owner.

He spoke openly about Edu, the master football director who he has persuaded to leave Arsenal – contractual arrangements are ongoing, he told me, before the Brazilian legend takes over Marinakis’ international football operation.

He explained his frequent and volatile arguments with the English football authorities, and his steadfast refusal to change or back down; his dismay with what he feels are poor refereeing standards in the Premier League; his anger at VAR and how he finds it inexplicable that, with multiple camera angles and time to check, they are not perfect in their decision making; his determination to make Forest an established part of the Premier League “Big Six”, and how he is keen to re-invest in January to try to make that happen; and he told me of his ambitions to expand his football portfolio by acquiring a big club in Brazil, confirming negotiations are underway to acquire Vasco da Gama.

It was an incredible interview that he gave me, and with each new sentence, it felt like he was delivering an explosive new headline. Everything this man says is significant.

That was the main course – a near 40-minute rollercoaster of news and emotion. Now, on day two, we were there for the dessert, and a final bit of filming with him inside the stadium. He’d invited us to be his special guests for Olympiacos’s 1-1 draw with Rangers in the Europa League, and there we were in his executive lounge, watching a steady stream of locals as they were invited – no, directed – that it was their turn to go behind the heavy curtain to speak to Mr Marinakis.

Moments later, Mrs Marinakis and her daughter left the table and walked our way. Athanasia Marinakis, with whom Mr Marinakis has three girls and a boy, came to speak to me and shake my hand. She apologised for not having spent more time with me, but explained that she must leave – her daughter had school in the morning and it was already past midnight. She smiled, told me to ask for anything I wanted, and she and her daughter were escorted out of the stadium by more security guards.

All around me, senior officials had huge smiles on their faces, as they explained that this was one of the most prized honours that Mr Marinakis could bestow – being given special attention by the inner family. I must have made a good impression the previous day, they said.

Then, after three hours of waiting, I got called in to see him. One of the half dozen or more special advisors who were buzzing and fussing around the general vicinity, pointed to me, told me my presence was required, and they hurried me into the midst and mist of cigar smoke engulfing Mr Marinakis’ private table. Not the cameraman, they said, just me. I was now, in every sense, behind the curtain.

There, Mr Marinakis pulled me in for a photo with him and another dignitary who had presented him with a huge ceremonial sword, emblazoned with the word “Olympiacos.” Marinakis himself was animated and delighted, relishing his role of host, beaming as he beckoned me in. The other personally invited ones around the table were somewhat bemused about why I’d been shown such special treatment, but they smiled and nodded towards me: as the subject of Marinakis’s attention for that moment, they knew their role was to be polite and attentive.

Two minutes later, back to my seat outside I went, and the wait went on. It was gone 3am when he finally finished his other business, and Mr Marinakis joined us for a quick football chat and a couple of shots of him in the empty stadium. Four minutes, tops. But again, he was friendly and accommodating and – unlike us – didn’t seem at all tired.

He would carry on entertaining and working long into the night, we were told. As we left the stadium, the Athens streets were deserted. Local people would be getting up for work soon. And we had to grab a few hours sleep before heading to the airport and a flight back to Heathrow.

It was, without doubt, one of the strangest, most disconcerting but most memorable interview experiences of my life, spread over three days in the South of Athens.

I was left in no doubt about this man’s power and influence, his wealth, the deferential standards he expects, his unapologetic single-mindedness, his innate instincts to challenge those in power. But I was also moved by his generosity, his natural charm and warmth, his engaging personality and – above all else – his determination and passion to succeed in everything he does.

He is already infamous in Greece, and much further afield for his business and footballing prowess. In England, he took Forest from their worst start to a season in 108 years to promotion from the Championship in that same season. Now, in their third season in the Premier League, they are in amongst the clubs just outside the top six.

Marinakis’ abrasive character and quick wit, his unflinching standards, his winning smile and mentality, and the way he seems to constantly clash with the football authorities – all are instantly reminiscent of Forest’s most famous son, Brian Clough. That is not a comparison that anyone in Nottingham should make lightly.

It is a heady mix of power and personality that has already guaranteed Marinakis cult-hero status with the supporters on Trentside.