 Saturday, May 21, 2005
Our family history played out in Motherwell
Two years to the day from Seville and deep within the panting heart of Celtic things are stirring again.
While Seville was unquestionably the highlight of my Celtic supporting life, the whole event was just a bit surreal. I remember the long walk to the stadium in the baking sun thinking that nothing in life had prepared me for seeing Celtic in a European final.
Motherwell tomorrow is more like the Celtic games we all know.
Unless my memory fails me (which I doubt) the most important league victory in Celtic’s history was secured by a Bobby Lennox goal at Fir Park. Seville enhanced the reputation of the Celtic family – and brought a few more thousand to our ranks, but for many of us, we learned to love this club as a Scottish team winning and losing in places like Motherwell, Perth and Paisley.
The home support have been fortunate that successive league victories in 1988, 1998, 2001, 2002 and 2004 have all been won at Celtic Park, a reward denied those of an older generation during the Nine-in-Row years, when remarkably no victories were secured at home.
Tomorrow, only the lucky few will be there is person to see Terry Butcher do a ‘Craig Gordon’ and come up for a corner-kick in added time. Three generations of the ’67 family (including a wee cousin on-the-way) will be watching here, as we pass on the traditions to those who will carry our club on in years to come.
Celtic is often referred to as a family club, which we are, of course. These are the days we share with our families. These are the days where the cantankerous old and insolent youth have something to talk about which has real meaning to both.
If you are with your family tomorrow, give them a big hug as the goals go in. If you are on your own, raise a glass to those who lit the Celtic flame in your heart.
The family has been the only Celtic tradition which has endured for 117 years, long after charity was sacrificed.
The players should know that tomorrow they are actors in a social history of a growing family of Celtic fans, increasingly drawn from all sections of our society.
A Celtic league victory is a beautiful thing.
102 Comments:
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Beautiful Words Paul - Now Lets Just Doo Them !!!!!!!
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Paul,if I can refer back to the previous thread, can anyone tell me if Celtic as a PLC, would have to niotify the Stock Exchange if they were aware that Martin O'Neill intended to resign or take a sabbatical?
ChrisG
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Totally agree Paul67. I will be watching with family and friends in good old Bolton but my heart will be in Dunbar with my Dad, Cumbernauld and London with my brothers and Fir Park with the bhoys. I was privileged to witness the 7 of 9 in a row at Methil many, many years ago but the thrill of a championship win is still as fantastic as ever.
Don't let us down bhoys!! Go for it.
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The heart beats stronger and I grow a foot taller as the Celtic pride in me takes over.
Roll on tomorrow.
C'mon the Hoops, do for it all the Bhoys who have gone before us.
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Another great post, Paul.
One wee detail, though. Celtic DID win 1 title at 'home' during NIAR. However, it was at Hampden not CP as the ground was being improved at the time. I think it was 70-71. If not, I'm sure someone will remember the season, I was only 4!
Regards
Liam H
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Nah Liam, none of the NIAR titles were won at home. BTW, the first was in 1965-66.
However, the stand WAS getting renovated in the year you mention. I was at the Lisbon Lions last game together that year, when Celtic beat Clyde 6-1. The players came onto the field down the steps of the stand.
Memory Lane CSC.
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I will be at Fir Park tomorrow with my son. Unfortunately when Celtic score we will have to sit on our hands as we are in the East Stand!!!
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Paul,
How dare you tug our heart strings so. If I had a glass eye it too would well up (excuse the pun).
Indeed many of us are thousands of miles away physically but right there in the park in spirit.
Our Bhoys will do it for all of us and that wonderous inexplicable Celtic feeling will fill us with pride and love of our team and club.
Wha's like us...
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Can you believe that idiot Yorkston in today's papers.
Apparently we are more paranoid than Rankers and he is really worried that people will think Motherwell checked a la Dunfermline.
This moron gets wheeled out by the press whenever the chance to put the boot in comes along.
I will not be at Motherwell tomorrow( couldn't get ticket) but I know that our supporters will not let us down.
Tell McLeish if he wants to see dignity look to the Celtic fans at Fir Park.
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Hi Paul,
Sitting here nursing a broken shoulder bone having tried to do 'a Bellamy' on the local 5-a-side last night, and being forced to watch some other game! Hope everybody has a ball tomorrow and i am sure i will find some way of holding my stout!! And whatever MON does do at the end of the season it will be with our sincere bset wishes.
Hail! Hail!
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Keep the Faith
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i was at paisley when we pipped hearts to win the league. it was a fabulous day. we won our last eight league games in a row to close a seemingly unbridgeable gap, but were still 2 points and 4 goals adrift. we did the biz in the first half, and it was just a case of what would happen to the jambos' bottle. of course, as we all know, it crashed (courtesy of albert kidd (blessings upon him)). the rejoicing was unconfined. there is indeed greater happiness in heaven over the finding of the one that was lost than over the 99 that we couldn't throw away if we tried.
and so to tomorrow.
2 early goals for 'well. TFOD storm into early 2 goal lead. the hu-ther glasgow team sense victory. hibees pull one back, and knowing aberdeen are still close to nicking third spot, start to put the pressure on. meanwhile the hoops relentessly claw one back. 10 mins to go. tic draw level. still in second spot, though. 5 mins to go. joy of joys, hibs equalise. last min. penalty at easter road. bazza blasts over. but it wouldn't have mattered, 'cos celtic win 3-2 in injury time. i haven't decided who scores yet. jackie maybe. more appropriately, stan.
the raw emotion!
but maybe, on reflection, it would be better if we could be a couple up by half time.
pimlico bhoy.
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Well said Paul.
All of us who had the privelage of being in Seville will never forget it. However our aim has to be to go one better and actually win a trophy in Europe again. If events over the coming months pan out as you have alluded, then anything would be possible.
Pimlico Boy I don't think I could stand the sort of tension you described. There's 22 hours to kickoff and the butterflys are here already. What will I be like tomorrow ?. Sitting in the East stand South, anybody else there?
Lets all enjoy this upcoming week - It's what it's all about.
C'mon the Hoops
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To ChrisG,
Chris, I feel that I can call you Chris.
Sounds like a fine strong name.
Now,Chris, Me Bhoy, listen to your wise old, Uncle AbaDaba.
Never, Ever, Believe what you are told, by the Yellow Press!
News is all slanted to wards a malicious interest,it is always full of Half-Truths and Innuendos.
All reporters are tarred with the same brush.
That is why is seems so puzzling.... to the uninitiated......... when former Celtic players, turn out to be Celtic Criticizers Personified.
They are behaving exactly according to type.
They are no longer honest men, they are now members of the Fourth Estate.(A more fitting Appellation, would be, of course......... The Fifth Column.
Yes I think in the future, all ex-Celtic reporters should be referred to as Fifth Columnists!!
Now, place your hand over your true Celtic heart.....
Repeat after me..........
"I swear that I will never, ever, Believe one word of any press report, until verified....... OFFICIALLY.... by the Celtic Football Club, So Help Me, Blessed Martin, Amen."
Yours in Celtic Forever,
Uncle AbaDaba.
Loving it, in the Emerald Isle.
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paul, your wasted doing this should be writing "tear Jerkers" for the telly!
Nice to remember that last day at love street. I moaned at my dad all morning to take me, he eventually gave in and has thanked me ever since.
No need for nerves the future has already been seen, trophy wrapped in ribbons of white and green.
Get ready to celebrate!!!
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Thanks Anon 1.65, Liam H, Glasgowdave.
ChrisG, chill, important info would need to be disclosed to the stock market even before it reaches Celtic Quick News.
“well up”, geddit CanajunBhoy. Very good.
Duck Derry, 5 a side is a a dangerous game. Trick is to stand on the same spot for the whole game and wait until the ball comes to you.
Hope the shoulder copes with your celebrations tomorrow.
Thanks also to dialupcelt on the previous post for the update on the youths. I know that Martin has promised to take Roco Quinn on the US tour, which really screws with the media theories.
Lets hope for a couple of jems.
Uncle AbaDaba, as soon as you introduce the financial imperative balance is compromised.
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Peterm1711,
From the "Celtic Football Companion"
"April 29th 1971 at Hampden Park Celtic 2 Ayr United 0"
"Attendance 25,000"
"Celtic clinch the title"
On 1st May, Celtic were back at CP to beat Clyde 6-1 in the Lions' final show. Stein put them out one last time as the title was already won.
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Paul67,
This is a missive--- from,
THE MYSTICAL MAVEN OF MAGICAL PROGNOSTICATIONS
Tomorrow night's Sports Headlines.....
"Killer B's Arrive in Lanarkshire!
The long expected Arrival Of the deadly Killer Bees, made their presence known, in no uncertain terms at today's sporting encounter at Fir Park.
The Deadly Duo,brought the struggling Motherwell defense, to its collective knees.
Then it eventually wilted and collapsed completely, under a barrage of painful and mortally wounding, stinging strikes!"
Let it be known, from this day forth........
"Beware of Celtic's Deadly Duo.......
Bellamy and Beattie......
Now Known as............
"The Killer Bees!"
Alis le Fey,
Enchantress in Residence,
Atlantic City, New Jersey.
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OOoooops!
Forgot to put "Liam H" afet that post about Hampden '71.
Liam H
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Beautiful Paul, just beautiful.
I have the choice of watching the game with my mates down the pub or with my dad. You've just decided for me (its like coming home for Christmas!).
Hail, hail.
MMFYM
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Hate to be pedantic, but did we not win the league at Kilmarnock last season??
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great site , we need more of this , especially the sort of stuff that has you thanking god that we are a part of the great family called CELTIC FOOTBALL CLUB. You had the hair on the back of my neck standing up with your post today , long live CELTIC long live her people.
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We did indeed win the league at Kilmarnock last year.
I was there and I will be there tomorrow. And if we win again I will think not only of my own pleasure, and of the achievements of the gladiators on the park but I will also think of everyone who contributes so eloquently to this marvellous site. And later in Sharkey’s I will raise a glass to all of you.
If the fates in their own malevolent sense of evil humour conspire against us then as the song goes ‘ win lose or draw’ I will do the same but with a moistened eye focussing upon the aspirations for the future, the victories to come, the losses to endure, and the dreams that may or may not come true.
But as Paul has said this day is May 21st 2005. Two short years since that evenmt which will ever more be marked in history by the simple word ‘Seville’.
So if your interested the guff that follows is what I wrote after that event.
Saturday, May 24, 2003
2003 - a Spain Odyssey
Good old Helen of Troy! Renowned from classical times as the face that launched a thousand ships. A mere thousand ships…what a puny effort!
36 years ago the simple word ‘Lisbon’ launched ships, and trains, and boats, and planes, and cars, and bikes, and an armada of every type of vessel possible as well as generating a million stories upon which, had Homer been around at the time, he would surely have based both his Iliad and Odyssey.
The simple reality of that word ‘Lisbon’ in the pantheon of followers of Celtic Football Club is remarkable enough in its basic truths and will, as long as there are Celtic supporters with memories, hearts and an instinctive devotion and identity with what is lovingly called ‘The History’, with apologies to Mr Spock, ‘live long and prosper’.
However, the legend that is ever nourished by the reality of Lisbon, and in kind like all good legends, enhances and glorifies the virtues of that reality, will not only live, breath and thrive, it will also as it has done for the last 36 years, grow in stature, impact, reverence and not least in the multiplication of the numbers who both attended or just believed they attended the Estadio Nacional on that 25th day of May 1967.
Even for those who were too young or not born at the time, our ancestral tree is apparently populated on every branch with hosts of forebears whose common denominator was the completion of by hook or by crook and fair means or foul, that journey and the invasion of Portugal’s fair capital all those years ago.
Much mockery is spread on these tales and claims. To the annoyance and frustration of a multitude of emotional eunuchs the fact that with each advancing year the acclaim, recognition and commemoration continues to both exist and grow, seems to be preposterous, and ridicule is poured on the ever burgeoning numbers who have the simple desire to not only state but truly want to believe that ‘I was there’.
These people who mock are soulless creatures of the night with no recognition what the essence of ‘The History’ actually means. It is they who deserve to be pitied and ridiculed. It is they who live as Scarfe-like disfigured caricatures of stereotypes, who persist in swaggering up and down streets throughout the world in July dressed like night railway workers in their fluorescent halters, proclaiming their allegiance and fealty to King William of Orange, the apprentice boys, and The Battle of the Boyne, not from 36 years ago, not even 136 years ago, but 313 years ago.
And unlike the simple and naïve self-deception of the ever more ubiquitous claim that ‘I was there’, there is an evil motivation, a destructive and stunted intellect, a castrated heart, and a sub-human despair upon which feeds the bigoted and fetid putrefaction known as orangeism and its homunculus-in-arms - inhumane bigotry.
Let them come and ask and examine the reality of the much more profound truth and the redemptive quality of man’s capability of demonstrating humanity to his fellow man that lies behind that inconsequential self-deception of ‘I was there’. Let them examine why so many wanted to be there; let them truly with both open mind and open heart try to really understand and recognise the benevolence and welcome comfort provided by ‘The History’.
A ‘History’ that was rooted in poverty and despair, nurtured by hope, belief and achievement; that flowered in a realisation of identity and commonweal and has prospered ever since in the simple innate belief in man’s capability and desire to strive and sacrifice for the sake of others.
Sentimental? Perhaps! Romantic? Yes! Dramatic? Undoubtedly! True? Indisputably! Desirable……….? Well, I dread the outcome of the stark alternative.
And the beating heart and graceful soul at the centre of all of this is Celtic Football Club, pumping through the arteries’ of every conscientious supporter the story and the message, the hopes and the dreams, or simply ‘The History’.
And it is because of that ‘History’ that 12,000 fans were drawn to Lisbon. It is because of that History that 30,000 fans think they went to Lisbon. Most importantly it is because of that History that 80,000 fans DID go to Seville.
So what is this phenomenon that was set in train all those years ago by Brother Walfrid.
What is this ‘History’ that we want to be part of?
It is more than just a club, more than just a team, more than just a bunch of unrivalled supporters, more even than the events great and tragic, the personalities magnificent and mundane, the seasons prosperous and barren, the tears joyful and jerking.
The ‘History’ has a meaning that is given substance by our identification with it. This substance is the essential and at times ephemeral virtue that made people like Jock Stein, Danny McGrain, Tommy Gemmell, Willie Wallace, Ronnie Simpson discard the taunts and arrows of hatred that came their way because they played for Celtic Football Club, because they were regarded as traitors and turn-coats. These were underrated men who were more than footballers.
Through them and through Brother Walfrid and through the thousands upon thousands of heads and faces that crowded the floating bridge between Scotland and Ireland in the years following the famine whose lives were enriched and in many cases saved, irrespective of creed or colour by the actions of Celtic Football Club, this ‘History’ is real and solid. Even in those where that knowledge may lie unrecognised, it is through this that they were either born or chose to join the Celtic family. It is this that makes ‘The History’. It is through this that thousands upon thousands of us live out our hopes and our dreams. And like all hopes and dreams, they are not necessarily fulfilled, but that does not make them any less real.
I have been lucky; I have had that hope and dream three times. Lisbon, Milan, and now Seville. In the case of Lisbon and Milan I wasn’t there. I had acquaintances and friends who were and I am utterly and unashamedly jealous.
So when Seville came around, it would have taken something special to have stopped me from getting there. But I didn’t just want to get there – after all the spirit of Lisbon like (as the song goes) ‘the name Albert Kidd lingered on’.
I didn’t want to plan it in the sense of just flying in seeing the game and flying out. I wanted something haphazard about it. I wanted a degree of difficulty. I wanted something more than just a game. I wanted a pilgrimage, I wanted an Odyssey, and I wanted a one of those dreams that just for once would come so true.
Degree of difficulty, you’ve got to be joking. Comparatively mine was a piece of cake.
Admittedly I cut it fine getting to London and only picking my Spanish rail tickets up on the Saturday in Hammersmith 4 minutes before the RENFE offices shut for the weekend. Yes I flew to Barca, lost my phone, camera, and reading glasses, slept on streets, in Barcelona, Madrid, Seville and Valencia. Didn’t get a ticket and watched on a big screen in Plaza Triana with approximately 30,000 others, eventually made my way back, etc etc
But my tales fall into insignificance in comparison with the true devotees. Those whose cars and vans broke down in Perpignon, and Montpellier. The hitchhiker who had got the train to Paris and somehow had ended up in Barcelona. The Croatian from Zagreb I met on the Madrid train; he was on crutches recovering from a bust leg which was still plastered up. He had a Celtic shirt on but could only say three words in English (which to be fair is three words more than I can say in Serbo-Croat, but there again I don’t travel two thousand miles to watch Dynamo Zagreb). By the way he knew all the songs, so we sang together and drank together and I think I also taught him a few more words.
Remember Goldfinger and the scene where Pussy Galore and her flying school spray the knock out gas and the streets end up with bodies everywhere. Well I think they flew over Seville in those glorious nights before and after the Final.
They could have used Seville as a mock up exercise of the aftermath of a nuclear war. 80,000 and one arrest (the rumour was it was for being sober!).
The Cathedral has and will probably never again see anything like it. There was a continuous Mass (as in Holy) being celebrated in one of the 4 chapels. I spent some time in the Cathedral as I had found that at the back of the Sacristy was a private toilet and washroom. It was very unchristian like of me not to tell anyone else about it.
Each Mass was filled to overflowing by a constantly replenished queue of green and white clad communicants. Wafers were undoubtedly in big demand!
And still they kept coming, crowding into every square and avenue, every bar and restaurant, some with tickets most without, some with hotel rooms, most without. I personally had the luxury of getting a couple of hours in one of those cashpoint lobbies. But I didn’t want to sleep. I walked and walked, along the banks of the Alphonse Canal, stepping over hooped bodies. I strolled along the edge of the Rio Guadalquivir stopping almost every 10 yards to marvel at the parties that just kept going on and on. Every Spanish bar as far as the eye could see stayed open and was full to overflowing. The only bars that seemed to close were the Irish ones – Flaherty’s and Trinity. Still they were open early for breakfast – that’s breakfast as in ‘a Pint of Guinness and something to wash it down with’
Thousands upon thousands upon thousands just kept flooding into the town. For two unforgettable unmissable days and nights Spanish became the second language of Seville. And what a city, what a people.
And what’s more with some sort of remarkable serendipity I bumped into Tony and Gary with whom I occasionally share a glass or two in Sharkey’s!
I could go on and on and on and at some time or other I probably will!
But to sum up….I think the only words that could approach doing it justice are those of St Martin himself
Astonishing! Simply Astonishing!…….
And all caused by something equally if not more astonishing ….‘The History’.
2003 - A Spain Odyssey
or
(You’ll be marking your Lotto, while we’re getting Blotto)
From north and south, from east and west, by boat and train and plane,
By car and foot, by barge and bike, we made our way to Spain,
We moved by day, we moved by night, by land and sea and air,
We hitched, we hiked, we thumbed, we stowed, somehow we all got there.
Flight after flight descended in the blazing Spanish sun,
Not one or two or three or four, but thousands on each run,
A tidal wave of Bhoys and Ghirls, a flush of living green,
Coursed through the streets like streams in spate to flood the sun drenched scene.
As every train sped on each track, it’s whistle blown on high,
It warned the world the Tim Malloys had drunk the buffets dry,
We came from every sovereign land and every nation state,
We came with Celtic in our hearts, we came to face our fate.
From Hong Kong, Hobart, New York too, Karachi, and Lahore,
From Melbourne, Perth, Johannesburg, from north to southern shore,
We came from right we came from left we came from up and down,
From every street and every lane we filled the whole damn town,
From ‘Catedral y Giralda’ to Rio Guadalquivir,
We drank the red, we drank the white, sambuca, stout, and beer,
From Santa Juste to Santa Cruz through to Real Alcazar,
Appeared just like the Gallowgate, each inn a Celtic bar.
What of the game? Well such is life, the facts for all to see
Were that The Celts scored only two, and those cheating bastards ..Three!
But though we lost, each Bhoy in green - a hero every one,
Proved once again that when in Hoops, these colours never run!
A flood of tears I saw that night, from wean to OAP,
But tears that sprung from bursting pride, I know ’cos one was me,
And singing voices once again resounded till the sun
Arose and seen the Celtic hosts and thought ‘What if they’d won!’
We came, we saw, we conquered hearts, we left without the prize,
But left with something dearer still, with smiles and sparkling eyes,
And though we lost the final there, ‘twas not a bitter pill,
We’ll ne’er forget that shining jewel, we’ll ne’er forget Seville.
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Alis le Fey
Good to hear from you in person, your ‘runner’ speaks well of you. I trust you to be spot on as usual.
Cannot argue with you Liam, will change future references to Celtic Park. This weeks prize goes to Gary67 for spotting the deliberate mistake. Pick up a MasterCard application form on your way to the stage Gary :-)
Thanks MMFYM. Today’s article was a pavlovian reaction to an instruction from Cabbage.
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All,
Can't be there in person, won't even be able to watch, but I will be listening fervently to the game via the web.
As much as I enjoyed seeing Celtic win the league in such dramatic fashion at Love Street (while Hearts imploded), I think I would rather have a couple of early goals under our belt at Fir Park tomorrow.
Here's hoping everyone there has a joyous (and safe) day, and everyone else has a just as fun time monitoring it from afar.
Yours in Celtic.
Sprite
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Uncle AbaDama fear not. As Paul67 confirmed; all is suppositon and lies. Whilst journalists have a duty to question; they also have a duty to research (Paul67 stand up and take a bow - even if it's not your full time job).
I wanted to confirm my understanding, and to point out the superficial reporting currently used in today's media.
Annonymous 7.10, superb. Hit it home totally. I am sure we are not alone in feeling we had to find some kind of rhyme to voice our feelings of Seville. Others will have worded it better, but for what it's worth, here was my contribution. I wrote it the night after the game and have not edited it since: I just wanted my raw words to keep me there.
Remember we were heroes
Remember we were there
Remember we had a dream
For everyone to share
Remember the players
Remember that team
Remember the fans
More than the world had ever seen
They came from the four corners
Of the the world just to hold
A moment of time
When green would turn to gold
They showed every football fan
How to follow their team
In triumph or disaster
We hold strong to the dream
Remember the time
Remember the thrill
We didn't win the cup
But we won Seville.
ChrisG
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Estadio
My apologies for misaddressing my comments.
ChrisG
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Well done Liam, my friend, you win the prize by default.
However, I'm refusing to call Hampden "Home". That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it, so as far as I'm concerned, NONE of the NIAR titles were won at Celtic Park!
You are of course 100% correct, the game SHOULD have taken place there, if it wasn't for work going on at the time.
Seeing as you have the "Celtic Football Companion" handy Liam, the match against Clyde was billed as the last time the Lions would ever play together, but one of them never featured, which one, and why?
Good God, do they still do the "Celtic Football Companion"?!
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To Paul and et al,
BRAVO BRAVO BRAVO
as they cheer after the opera,wothy of Verdi, Puccini,or Rossinni.
BRAVO BRAVO BRAVO.
Wonderful post and equally wonderful replies.
To all posters, I will be lucky enough to be joining Paul and Mrs 67, Ryan and Callum, Kevin and Angela and the expected ONE that Paul alluded to, tomorrow to enjoy the spectactular as it unfolds.
I sure am the proud daddy and grand daddy. LOVE you all.
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Have a good day everyone.
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Peterm1711
Cheers, mate. Absolutely, none of them were won at CP. Weird that for NIAR, eh?
Anyhoo, my copy of the "companion" was printed in 1986. I haven't seen another one since...pity!
The team listed for the game you attended is as follows:
Simpson and Williams; Craig; Gemmel; Murdoch; McNeil; Clark; Johnstone; Wallace; Chalmers; Auld; Lennox.
The attendance was 35,000 and it was the last appearance of the full Lions team. You may be thinking that Ronnie Simpson was not involved but he did come on as a sub. It is thought that Stein was waiting for the game to be wrapped up as Simpson was injured and he didn't want any risk of the Lions losing their last game.
If you want any other pearls from the old "companion", just let me know ;-)
Kind Regards
Liam H
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who would've thought we had so many poets in our ranks, eh? Great stuff lhads, and well done paul with that post. I would have used the "tear to a glass eye" cliche but someone already took it.
It's days like tomorow that make me proud to be a fan of the blessed Celtic, and a day like Seville, - i can't find words to describe how i felt inside watching Larsson and co. play in a european final. Bloody Vitor Baia.
Anyway, tomorrow will be another title to add to what has been the most successful period of my (short) Celtic life. Good luck tomorrow guys, and wish i was there
westim
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Hmmm...interesting Liam.
Correct of course, I was referring to Simpson. Although it's my recollection that he came out with the team at the start for the warm-up, then left the field to be replaced by Evan Williams, and didn't play in the actual match.
I honestly don't recall Ronnie coming on later in the match either, as his career was effectively over, due to a recurring shoulder injury.
I'm dredging this up from memory, not a book, so there's every chance I'm mistaken!
So it says he came on as a sub in the "Companion" then?
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I cannot believe what I am reading tonight-A tear in my eye a hundred times over! I was lucky enough to be in Lisbon, Milan, Seville and I will be there tomorrow with my son roaring on the Bhoys to another fantastic victory!!
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Excellent post, followed by well written comments.
We are lucky to be Celtic fans; especially those of us in our mid to late thirties. We are the generation that heard of Lisbon from our fathers, we witnessed the nine in a row and we stayed faithful through the decline. We were rewarded with Seville. A win tomorrow followed up with some astute signings will set us up for seasons to come.
Come on The Hoops.
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Great post Paul, I believe the goal you speak of was the start of our 9 in a row. What we"d give for a Lennox tomorrow. !lostrambling, couldnt agree more. Between Yorkston being allowed the sort of press coverage he is (to vent his anti Celtic feelings) and Big Eck ranting about how dignified the huns have been (remember the moans about Dundee Utds free kick at Greyskull) Does anyone remember the way we conducted ourselves after Seville and Kilmarnock? Not a mention of it. I"ll be in the motherwell end tomorrow and know there will be thousands of us in the same position. Lets just enjoy ourselves and savour another title.
God Bless
Mark-F
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great post paul,
only thing left to say is cmon BBJ, 35th goal 2moro!!!
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Peterm1711,
Your turn to be correct! The info posted last time round was partly from the book, but the bit about the substitution came from a (much!) older friend. I have managed to find the appropriate entry in "The Glory and the Dream" by Campbell and Woods, which confirms your memories. The entry reads:
"Before an emotionally charged crowd of 35,000 the European Cup winners of 1967 took the field, led out by the non-playing Ronnie Simpson, who had retired a year previously"
I have spoken to another couple of friends, who remember this game well. They insist that although Simpson did not play, he was listed on the official team sheet for the day. So far, no dusty tome of my collection can confirm this. Or, more likely, I'm too inept to find it!
'Tis true us bookworms can't hold a candle to you guys who can say... (Max Boyce impersonation here)
"...I was there!"
Kind Regards
Liam H
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Mark-F
We may not have Lennox any more,but we do have Bellamy.I was talking to some Newcastle fans in the pub today.They told me that in any game if it looks like you aren't ever going to score,he's your man to come up with the goods.
Let's hope it doesn't come to that tomorrow though coz I don't think my heart could stand it!!!
To all : Have fun,stay safe and sing your lungs out for the Bhoys!!
BankieBhoy
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What is it to be a celtic fan????
I for one don't really know. My family are a cross: Half from a wee mining village called westburn.... it sounds all romantic... getting eggs from the local farm, gathering the coal from the bing.. all that stuff... the other half is from Pollock....say no more....
Well anyway, ma da moved up to Aberdeen when I was 6, Ravenscraig stikes were full on and he could'nt cross the line, time to move. My ma's famisly has a chain of bookies across Glasgow, ma da could have had any job there, but pride is a powerful thing and we moved to Aberdeen. So here I am.... sitting in my house in a wee town 15mile from Aberdeen... my wee cousin plays for the sheepshaggers, and still I have been nervous for the last 2 weeks. ma nerves have been a jumble, and i have caused so many fights wae my wife its not fair. Why? Cause of the Bhoys..... ah cant afford to go to all the games, the grampian shamrock help, but my heart is as strong as any season ticketer ( is that a word??)
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cant wait for the game now, as the nerves are starting to kick in.
Dont you just love these kind of games ?
Going to hit the sack very early tonight so im prepared for the long day in London tomorrow.
Hope we are all in a cheerful mood tomorrow and hope the fans at the game give us a good atmosphere.
One for all, and all for one
Dave
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Good post Estadio
"We do not remember days, we remember moments."
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20 to 2 on Sunday morning, a bit pished and beginning to get a bit nervous. Read Paul's soliliquy and it got me even more nervous. Sounded a bit too cocky to me assuming we were were going to win tomorrow when most of us know that Motherwell have been Celtic's bogey team over the years. Let's hope I'm being a bit unduly negative here eh?
Up the Celts and the High Bees!
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So good to be part of the POSITIVE Celtic family.
Can't say much more than what was said above by my Celtic Brothers & Sisters.
Our history can be diluted & erased in the media,but can never be taken from our heart and souls.
Verbal history is a powerful thing.
Pavlovian indeed Paul67
We shall overcome.
Come on Celtic & family,give me something to tell my future kids about.
Yours in Celtic
Cabbage McFlabbergaster
Cabbage,'cos I'm GREEN through and through.
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BankieBhoy
I dont doubt for a moment that Bellamy will do the trick, still wish we had a Lennox though. Just hope that everyone has a great day. Ive been doing this for far too long to be sitting here,unable to sleep,nerves totally shattered yet knowing that we"ll go out and do the business.Good luck everyone,this is what its really all about.
Mark-F
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"Hail, hail the Celts are here
and
Its a Grand Old Team to play for
and
They gave us James McGrory and Paul McStay. They gave us Johnstone, Tully, Murdoch, Auld and Hay. Most of the football greats have passed through Parkhead's gates, to play football the Glasgow Celtic way.
With a 4 leaf clover on my breast and the green and white upon my chest,
That was the best day of our lives, the day we won the greatest prize
We are Celtic supporters, faithfull through and through. Over and over we will follow you.
Celtic, Celtic That's the team for me. Celtic Celtic on to Victory. The're the finest team in Scotland and I hope you will agree. They'll never give up till they've won the Cup and the Scottish Football League.
Walk on , walk on with hope in your heart and you'll never walk alone.
Altogether now.. Low lie the Fields of Athenry......
Good luck Bhoys !!
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Jebus I'm bricking it this morning.
Here's to an early two goal start followed by an 80 minute sing-song and a deathly silent Easter Road.
I don't think I could take a nailbiter, even a Wim the Tim St.Johnstone-type one. Ths week has feckin dragged in and I'm up this morning feeling like I did when Santa used to come.
'mon the Hoops.
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To Estadio and ChrisG, many thanks Lhads. I'm sitting in work having just started shift with the butterflies as i'm getting out at one to see the game. I read both of your articles and was almost wiping away tears of pride and joy. Heres to many more today!
I hope youse don't mind but I have copied and mailed both to exiled Celts in Detroit and Washington. They'll both be heartened by your words.
Walk on Lhads.
This is what it feels like to be part of the Celtic family - Magic!
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Paul's words hit home once again. Attending nephew's communion so all the family will be together for the game. Nothing better than sharing these kind of days with your own, be it family or friends. Let's finish with a flourish and show everyone this "post-Seville"(media quote) team is still the best in the country.
Hail Hail to every Celtic fan in the world today.
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Forgive me for being self indulgent. I wrote this a while back and today it seems appropriate.
Celtic! Celtic! That’s The Team For Me
29 April 1967. A ten year old boy at his first ever Celtic game sees his father as he has never seen him before. In the forty second minute of the Scottish Cup Final against Aberdeen, Willie Wallace scores. The crowd rises and the boy’s father stands upright, saying nothing, but with both arms heavenwards as in a victory salute, and sporting a grin as wide as Hampden Park itself. His dad hasn’t said much at all during the game except for, “You’ve got the world at your feet, wee man” every time the number seven gets the ball. “That’s wee Jimmy Johnstone,” the boy’s mum tells him. As if he didn’t know. First time he’d seen him in colour, though.
An hour later and big Billy goes up for the cup, with the rest of the Lisbon Lions behind him, though they’ve yet to earn that name. Not a soul in the crowd of 126,102 dares say what they’re thinking: that maybe, just maybe, big Billy will lift another cup in Portugal in a few weeks time.
I knew that day was going to live with me forever when it had been announced to me a few hours earlier that I’d to stop girning about my two big brothers going to the schoolboys’ enclosure. Why should I stop girning, I wanted to know. It wasn’t fair. I was a big boy now. That was when the three tickets for the North Stand were produced. And one of them was for me.
As we walked through Mount Florida heading for the game, I couldn’t believe the sights and sounds. I’d been allowed to go to a few reserve games before but never anything like this. I saw a Celtic rosette lying on the ground and picked it up, fully expecting to be told that you don’t pick things up off the ground, just as I’d been told a million times before. Imagine my surprise when my mum proudly pinned it onto my jacket for me without so much as a hint of a reprimand. I’ve still got that rosette, and the programme, and the ticket and, most precious of all, the memory.
Thirty five years go by quickly. Exiled in Edinburgh, I’ve still got a season ticket and, although Celtic Park has changed almost but not quite beyond recognition, I still see shadows of the past every single time I enter the stadium: my dad, his friends, other family members. Gone now, but ever present in the 60,000 voices filling the air of the east end of Glasgow.
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Forgive me for being self indulgent. I wrote this a while back and today it seems appropriate.
Celtic! Celtic! That’s The Team For Me
29 April 1967. A ten year old boy at his first ever Celtic game sees his father as he has never seen him before. In the forty second minute of the Scottish Cup Final against Aberdeen, Willie Wallace scores. The crowd rises and the boy’s father stands upright, saying nothing, but with both arms heavenwards as in a victory salute, and sporting a grin as wide as Hampden Park itself. His dad hasn’t said much at all during the game except for, “You’ve got the world at your feet, wee man” every time the number seven gets the ball. “That’s wee Jimmy Johnstone,” the boy’s mum tells him. As if he didn’t know. First time he’d seen him in colour, though.
An hour later and big Billy goes up for the cup, with the rest of the Lisbon Lions behind him, though they’ve yet to earn that name. Not a soul in the crowd of 126,102 dares say what they’re thinking: that maybe, just maybe, big Billy will lift another cup in Portugal in a few weeks time.
I knew that day was going to live with me forever when it had been announced to me a few hours earlier that I’d to stop girning about my two big brothers going to the schoolboys’ enclosure. Why should I stop girning, I wanted to know. It wasn’t fair. I was a big boy now. That was when the three tickets for the North Stand were produced. And one of them was for me.
As we walked through Mount Florida heading for the game, I couldn’t believe the sights and sounds. I’d been allowed to go to a few reserve games before but never anything like this. I saw a Celtic rosette lying on the ground and picked it up, fully expecting to be told that you don’t pick things up off the ground, just as I’d been told a million times before. Imagine my surprise when my mum proudly pinned it onto my jacket for me without so much as a hint of a reprimand. I’ve still got that rosette, and the programme, and the ticket and, most precious of all, the memory.
Thirty five years go by quickly. Exiled in Edinburgh, I’ve still got a season ticket and, although Celtic Park has changed almost but not quite beyond recognition, I still see shadows of the past every single time I enter the stadium: my dad, his friends, other family members. Gone now, but ever present in the 60,000 voices filling the air of the east end of Glasgow.
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This kind of sums up how I feel today.
Celtic! Celtic! That’s The Team For Me
29 April 1967. A ten year old boy at his first ever Celtic game sees his father as he has never seen him before. In the forty second minute of the Scottish Cup Final against Aberdeen, Willie Wallace scores. The crowd rises and the boy’s father stands upright, saying nothing, but with both arms heavenwards as in a victory salute, and sporting a grin as wide as Hampden Park itself. His dad hasn’t said much at all during the game except for, “You’ve got the world at your feet, wee man” every time the number seven gets the ball. “That’s wee Jimmy Johnstone,” the boy’s mum tells him. As if he didn’t know. First time he’d seen him in colour, though.
An hour later and big Billy goes up for the cup, with the rest of the Lisbon Lions behind him, though they’ve yet to earn that name. Not a soul in the crowd of 126,102 dares say what they’re thinking: that maybe, just maybe, big Billy will lift another cup in Portugal in a few weeks time.
I knew that day was going to live with me forever when it had been announced to me a few hours earlier that I’d to stop girning about my two big brothers going to the schoolboys’ enclosure. Why should I stop girning, I wanted to know. It wasn’t fair. I was a big boy now. That was when the three tickets for the North Stand were produced. And one of them was for me.
As we walked through Mount Florida heading for the game, I couldn’t believe the sights and sounds. I’d been allowed to go to a few reserve games before but never anything like this. I saw a Celtic rosette lying on the ground and picked it up, fully expecting to be told that you don’t pick things up off the ground, just as I’d been told a million times before. Imagine my surprise when my mum proudly pinned it onto my jacket for me without so much as a hint of a reprimand. I’ve still got that rosette, and the programme, and the ticket and, most precious of all, the memory.
Thirty five years go by quickly. Exiled in Edinburgh, I’ve still got a season ticket and, although Celtic Park has changed almost but not quite beyond recognition, I still see shadows of the past every single time I enter the stadium: my dad, his friends, other family members. Gone now, but ever present in the 60,000 voices filling the air of the east end of Glasgow.
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Oops. I'm new to this game.
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Can you believe this!
Tickets for todays game going for over 3000 quid on ebay!
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Great post Paul realy gets the day buzzin. Wont be at the game today (no ticket), will be watching in west of Ireland booozer but the phone will be hopping afterwards with family all over the place.
Nice post about the Clyde match last for the Lions, my first ever Celtic game. I had a argument with the late great Bobby Murdoch about Simpson taking part in the match, i didn't think he had played but was togged out.
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So Alex McPish would not like to be in Celtics position today as Motherwell is the hardest place to go for 3 points on the final day. I for one would feel much happier going to the well rather that easter road. Take no notice of McPishes mind games the points are in the bag today if we don't panic just play a bit of possession football and our experience will tell. Give BBJ first half and if things not going to plan send on Beattie for the 2nd half.
C'mon the HOOPS
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may67...no worries pal. I even read your post all three times too, it was that good!
You're ages with me too, so I know excactly what you're feelings are. In fact, I know precisely how we ALL feel today!
OK Celtic, give us 50% of the double this afternoon.
All the best bhoys, enjoy today.
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Cometh the hour
Cometh the men
And so it will come to pass.
There can be no other outcome today
It WILL be Happy 40th Celtic
And what better way to prepare for it than by
reading the words of the excellent posts above.
Although, none of us have probably met, we are all Family
The sentiments so eloquently expressed have touched
me, and I’m sure, every other true Celt.
Let’s go and have one big Family party.
Enjoy.
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No need for jitters. I told you that we would roll over the dons. I told you that if there was a game to slip up in it would be the hibees. I told you that we would beat the jam tarts. And im telling you we will roll over the well.
ps I also predicted 1 and 2 in the eurovision, yes I watched yes I had to be pissed to do so and yes im hungover. Nonetheless the day is about to unfold and the excitement building 4-1 the timaloy.
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Beautiful words Paul.
Throughout the big Celtic days in my life as one of The Faithful, memories of family & Celtic are inter-linked. Lisbon as a wee bhoy watching with my dad & uncles, 4-2 in '79 - in the Jungle with mates until half-time, but the call of the family then too great and I joined them up at the back of the Celtic End for 2nd half and celebrated with my dad, brother, cousins and uncles.
Paisley in '86 with family plus countless finals and league wins since.
And of course, Seville, this time with son and nephew as well as brother and father, cousins and uncles.
Let's make it another great Celtic Family Day.
We Shall Not Be Moved.
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Im in the unlucky to predict camp.Severe PMT (pre match tention) bright and overcast is my lucky weather.Going through the full Celtic song list just now, Walk On with a shake in my heart.
Not got the chip wrappers yet but Im guessing
'Celtic in Crisis Larrson is out of the game',
'Stein Quits, Celtic are done for',
'Martin O'Neill had roast beef for his dinner last night, its another sure fire sign that hes quitting, for england in the summer'
'mcleish states that there has been 132 years of dignity'
Made that last bit up.
To all Celts every where, all the best and have a great day.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand they have us James McGrory and Paul McStay.
Estadio Nacional
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Bog Joe, Says…….
Paul and every 1.
I am moved by that you lot have written, and I cant follow it with anything constructive of my own.
All I can say is Come on the Hoops, Lets do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Predictions team to play the well.
Douglas
agathe
varga
balde
macnamara
lennon
thompson
petrov
sutton
hartson
bellamy.
Not a lot of change there then. Can people honestly see anything else than a celtic win. These players will play at 110 percent today more than enough to beat stuff the well. Terry butcher will not allow the spectacle of his keeper goin up in the dying minutes unlike most of the currants he has some dignity.
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Just returned from the Newsagents
Seen the headlines on the front page of the Sunday Ma*l.
I implore any of you daft enough to buy this rag - GIVE IT UP -
WARNING - Reading it can damage your health.
You Know it makes sense.
c'mon the hoops
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I may be an old cynic - however your posts summed up how I feel.
Good luck to each and every one of us today.
Vive Le Celtic
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Come on the hoops, 90 minutes from Party time.
Exciting times ly ahead for the bhoys no matter what, lets just enjoy it, if he goes he goes, he will one day, but unlike what the papers like to think we won't just shut up shop, we will just move on like we always do.
Hail Hail
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Paul - Great Site, Great Post and hopefully a Great Day !!!
As for the family thing, certainly it is something special to be passed on from generation to generation. I live in France and try hard to ensure my kids know what Celtic is about - even though they have never set a foot in Scotland.
However today, for the first time, I have to miss my son in a gymnastics competition. I had to take him aside this morning and explain why Daddy could not be there - that Daddy had to stay at home and watch Celtic on TV. So, yes, the Celtic family must survive, but in a balanced, correct way.
HAIL HAIL
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Anonymous 12.59
Where are you on France? I'm wondering how and where you'll be watching. Internet? TV? Selfish interest as I'm going to be spending quite a bit of time there over the next few years and have to ensure I can get my fix.
C'mon the hoops!
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Too much confidence and arrogance on our part.
Planning parties and celebrations when the title was not over.
Gutted in Latvia!
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Hartson should take a good look at himself, his displays recently have nothing short of pitiful.
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