I’m still meeting people who haven’t noticed. Hibernian are on an outstanding run of form, having won their last three games and undefeated in six. The last reversal they had was at Celtic Park the first weekend in April. On Sunday we’re playing the team with the best recent form in Scotland; the warning signs are painted in large green font.
They are dangerous up front, Leigh Griffiths has scored four goals more than any Celtic player, including several stunners.
The weight of the world rested on Hibs’ shoulders at last season’s Scottish Cup final, when the stage was set for a century of pain to be wiped away by defeating their greatest rivals. It was too much. Now they take the field unburdened and vastly more dangerous than St Mirren, Hearts or Kilmarnock were when they overcame Celtic at Hampden recently.
Odds on Hibs are very generous.
I caught some chat online last night. “Blackmail”, “extortion”, “imprisonment”, “getting rid of the problem”, “a catastrophe of an intensity that you…. clearly do not appear to understand”, “fraudulent”, “once the genie is out it will have a life of its own”.
What an unimaginable mess.
I think “Been an admirer of your recent work” is bound to become a euphemism in years to come for when something that should never have been said or written slips out. This is a small glimpse into how the whole thing happened.
Fantastic Q&A with Willie Wallace this morning, thanks to Willie and Winning Captains. Willie’s recollections of our great times are irresistible. Reading the book as it came together was a joy. You’ll love it.
Remember you can start Cup Final weekend by meeting Willie at a book signing at Waterstons’ on Sauchiehall St, tomorrow – 25th May, 46 years on from the day – from 2pm until 4pm. If you can’t make it you can order a signed copy below.
[calameo code=000390171179f475cf1c0 lang=en page=6 hidelinks=1 width=100% height=500]
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Good morning from a similar morning in ML5 to that in E.K. and G72…
Hope it is the same tomorrow.
Keep the Faith!
Hail Hail!
I like this from RhebelRhebel
46 years ago today, the day Dead rangers started their moribund journey to liquidation.
TnT
Done. .told pf and oldtim that I emailed Hamilton for tickets etc yesterday. Ill let you know when they reply. .
My morning will now be spent trying to calm down mini until tickets to see 1direction at Murryfield are secured. (THEY DON’T blinking go on sale till 10am)
Asonofdan:
Regan must be something right, a £33k wage rise.. rotten to the core.
Keep the Faith!
Hail Hail!
Good morning from a beautifully sunny West end of Glasgow offering 8*C at present with a promised high of 16*C and continuing sunshine.
Good morning friends in Celtic,
I always love May 25th.
Just something magical about it.
High Hamilton luxuriant in Spring like sunshine.
Expectancy levels beginning to increase ahead of the season ending finale to a thoroughly enjoyable campaign.
A wander down Kings Park Avenue tomorrow, bathed in double winning, glorious early evening sun, (With even BSR sated by our achievements), beckons.
BarBQ and an alfresco Celtic Celebration.
HH
EC67
Pmyh
I work in West end .(when not on the sick)
Where are you based when over here. ?
46 years on.
Is it still cold in his shadow?
a stor
Jick made two changes that evening just in case we lost..he needenthave worried
Brother Walfrid.
This is your club; your Family…
CELTIC FOOTBALL CLUB 125 YEARS
.
Jock Stein – the Lions’ main man
By: Joe Sullivan on 25 May, 2013 07:31
THE Lisbon Lions have never just been about the 11 men who performed heroics for those 90 historic minutes under the hot Portuguese sun on the evening of Thursday, May 25, 1967.
Joe McBride, John Fallon, John Hughes, Charlie Gallagher and Willie O’Neill made up the rest of the 16-man squad while Sean Fallon, Neilly Mochan, Bobby Rooney and Jimmy Steel made sure everything was running smoothly.
But there was no doubt who was the Alpha Male in this Lions’ pride.
Jock Stein was the man who moulded and crafted this talented bunch of individuals into a cohesive and interrelated team unit that ploughed a path through Europe. A staue outside the front of Celtic Park is tetimony to his importance in the club´s history.
And Billy McNeill is in no doubt that Lisbon just simply wouldn’t have happened for Celtic had the Big Man not been at the helm.
There was a distinct lack of direction before Stein arrived and when the club took its first tentative steps on to the European arena in 1962 against Valencia, there were no obvious dreams of dining at the top table with the elite of the continent.
McNeill said: “That Valencia jaunt was like a fairytale trip for us. At that time, being a young player at Celtic, you were just delighted at being on the road to being a professional.
“We had a very, very young side out at that particular time and it was all very new to us.”
It could be argued that a certain naivety as much as pre-Stein boardroom intrusion in team matters played its part in Celtic’s early European escapades.
McNeill said of the earlier European eliminations: “Had we had guidance from somebody more experienced in European football, then I think we could have turned those games our way.
“That was the bones of the Lisbon Lions, it was a team starting to take shape and, to be honest, it wasn’t until Big Jock came back that the team took a firmer shape.
“Even when Big Jock took over and started to demonstrate that he knew what it was all about, I still don’t think he was ever given the resources he needed just to galvanise and strengthen the team in the areas that he wanted.”
There were improvements made though and, in true Stein style at the height of his powers, they were to prove crucial.
McNeill added: “Big Jock brought Joe McBride in, he brought Willie Wallace in and they made a massive impact to be quite frank. But, they had to be good players to do that as the squad wouldn’t have suffered any poor players.
“When that season started we had an attitude and an appetite that enabled us to think that if we played well we could upset anybody – and so it happened, and it happened all the way through to Lisbon.”
And it was Jock Stein’s meticulous preparation for almost every eventuality on and off the pitch that paved the way for the Lisbon success 44 years ago.
McNeill said: “Big Jock’s preparation for that game was absolutely magnificent. We went down to Seamill for about four or five days and one of the reasons for that was that, all of a sudden, Europe’s press wanted our attention.
“But we played a bit of golf on the course, we trained and we worked but everything was based on sharpness.
“There wasn’t any laborious training, it was all sharp, sharp, sharp stuff and Big Jock’s attitude obviously was to get your brain sharp and hone your actual fitness.
“The one thing that was important to Big Jock was that he had a fit team. Every now and then he used to switch to a real determined, hard-working training week.
“But for those four or five days down at Seamill, everything was short, sharp and sweet. He would say to us that he wanted us all in a relaxed frame of mind and easy-going to enjoy what was happening.
“We really did enjoy it and we came back home for a couple of days and all of a sudden we were away to Lisbon.”
Stein, of course, tasted a modicum of managerial success with Dunfermline and Hibernian before taking up the reins at Celtic although his first success as a coach arrived nine years before Lisbon.
In 1958 he coached the Celtic second string to an 8-2 aggregate score over Rangers in the final of the Reserve Cup and first sowed the seeds of the managerial prowess that would turn Celtic into a force to be reckoned with – a force, according to McNeill, that can still be felt to this day.
He said: “Lisbon wouldn’t have been possible without him. Had Jock Stein not come to Celtic at that time, the club would just have lumbered on.
“We might have won the Scottish Cup in 1965 – that may have been our year for winning the cup under Jimmy McGrory. But Jock brought the different approach to everything that consolidated it for us.
“I can honestly say that we might have won the Scottish Cup back then but what certainly would not have happened was the sheer volume of trophies and success that came after that – and that is down to the Big Man.
“For me, the modern-day Celtic owes one hell of a debt to Big Jock for what he did.
001Bhoy
Morning all.
Happy 25th May to Tims everywhere.
Special greetings to the surviving Lisbon Lions, and a special thought for Big Jock, Jinky, Bobby and Ronnie, and all other departed Celts.
HH!!
JOCK STEIN
Just seeing his name puts a shiver up my spine. Still influencing Scottish football.
Hail Hail
blantyretim:
Somebody should rib Willie Wallace that he missed a sitter in that game.
EC67 –
I assume that it’s the usual alternative location for the Gazebo tomorrow? me and mini-Jobo seriously considering whether we should attend there as every time we have we’ve had a poor game. Didn’t go near it at the Dundee Utd Semi and see what happened!
Off shortly to run round a bit of Strathclyde Park and hopefully complete my 88th ParkRun. I’ll look out for you ;-)
mort
12:51 on 24 May, 2013
Usual media hype….LOL
a stor mo chroi
Now you have planted a seed in my nut for the golf. Could get messy…
And of course that historic season began with a 4-1? demolition of Man U .
A United side that included Law Best and Charlton and other England internationals who had just won the World Cup.
My memories of that game were of a spring-heeled Bobby Lennox ripping them apart.
Celtic 125 Glorious years
JoBo,
Yes usual location, though some absent ticketless friends.
EC67
Great article about Riordan
THE SPL’s all-time third highest
goalscorer is scowling and it’s a
look many of us will remember
from those moments when a
team-mate failed to deliver a
pass, spot his run or trust in his
abilities to make the net bulge,
even though he had big-lump
defenders grappling with him like
so many rule-crazy nightclub
bouncers.
Unfortunately it’s not a football
scowl because Derek Riordan,
one of our game’s special, can’t-
teach-it, maverick and
maddening talents, hasn’t
figured in a while.
He meets me on what he says is
the only day for the foreseeable
that he’s not playing golf,
though when he shows up at the
Toby Carvery in Edinburgh’s
Silverknowes dressed in shorts
and T-shirt it transpires he’s just
sneaked in a round on the local
public course. “I cannae believe
it,” he says. “My mate’s ball just
hit a stane. It was going miles to
the left then it veered back, not
sheepish at all, bounced off the
back rim, up in the air and back
doon into the hole. So the match
was halved. Nightmare. I was
ragin’ … ” This is his golf scowl,
then, but it soon disappears.
Sad? Bitter? Fallen out of love
with the game? Fed up of being
dubbed one of its lost boys?
He’s none of these things. It
should also be said that he
doesn’t seem over-burdered with
regret, that he bears no scars
from a frenzy of self-criticism
while wielding a three-iron. I
meet a chatty, cheerful, friendly,
funny Deek who sips his Coke
unenigmatically.
This is his manor. Football has
taken him to Bristol, China and,
yes, even Glasgow. But – you can
take the boy out of Pilton etc –
he likes it best round here. His
mum lives near the golf course,
his little brother is a regular
playing partner and so are
various cousins, while his Aunt
Maria and Uncle Frankie run
The Gunner, his local pub. You
know you’re getting old when
Derek Riordan turns 30, as he
did in January, but he still looks
remarkably boyish, like he could
be set for a long, carefree
summer of golfing with his
mates, which used to be
working-class north Edinburgh’s
equivalent of the gap year.
Did his apprenticeship on this
course begin at the toerag stage,
hanging around the 17th green
and pinching the flag? I don’t
ask because that would be
regional stereotyping. In any
case, the 17th isn’t so accessible
from the tower blocks anymore
and it’s the 15th which presents
the unusual local hazard. “That’s
the wee par three down by the
Commodore Hotel. You have to
dodge the motorbike tracks.”
Riordan got into golf about
seven years ago, the time of his
ill-fated move from Hibs to
Celtic. He plays the public
courses rather than the posh or
nouveau riche ones and the
capital’s Braids is another
favourite. “Me and the guys, the
friends I’ve had for ages, were
playing snooker and having wee
gambles but now the weather’s
better we’ve got the clubs out.
You know, I might be better at
golf than fitba now.”
He’s joking (I hope). “I’m still
better than some guys I see
playing in the Premier, I know
that.” SPL or England’s Premier?
I don’t ask, but wouldn’t put it
past him fancying himself in the
league where Garry O’Connor
once performed, and where the
Stevens, Fletcher and Whittaker,
still do. Of all those Hibs Kids
with their blond plumages and
silver boots (not as prevalent
then as now), he seemed like the
most gifted, a scorer of blazing
goals with both feet.
Right now, though, in between
the golf, Riordan’s football is
confined to kickabouts with his
pals. He’s doing this to stay in
shape but also because it’s a
laugh. “What am I like?
Frightening! Too good! Wooden
floor, hard walls so you’ve got to
be careful but I take my turn in
goals where I don’t mind saying
I’m a bit of a cat.”
The five-a-sides are only
temporary. “I want to be back
playing next season, definitely.
Nothing’s fixed up yet but
hopefully soon. I want to play
for as long as I can.”
Nevertheless, this is quite
something, isn’t it? To glimpse
Scotland’s former Young Player
of the Year, Hibs’ top scorer for
three seasons in a row and
Celtic’s best finisher of the
Gordon Strachan era according
to the manager who rarely
picked him, you must get down
early to the gym hall at
Craigroyston High School – and
even then a good view may
require the removal of some
small boys. It pains me to say
this, but: Derek Riordan, where
did it all go wrong?
“I dinnae think it did,” he says
calmly, not riled by the inquiry.
“Folk say to me I should have
done a lot more with my career.
Obviously I could have done, but
I don’t think it was down to the
trouble that I didn’t.” By “the
trouble” he means the headline-
grabbing football downtime, the
uptown partying – and the
subsequent life ban from
Edinburgh’s nightclubs. He
continues: “I believe as a
footballer you have to be lucky
and at certain points I just
wasn’t. Aye, I could have done
more but, you know, it was a
dream for me to pull on a Hibs
shirt. For me that was huge, as
it is for loads of laddies round
here. They never quite get to
play for their boyhood heroes
but I did and I also turned out
for my country.”
Time for some re-capping, and I
don’t mean additional
retrospective Scotland honours
(three caps is a paltry figure).
Riordan was last mentioned in
connection with Brora Rangers.
“No offence, but that would
never have happened. Some
funny stuff gets written about
me. Mates who’re on the
websites have told me about
some amazing nonsense.” Most
amazing? “That I do drugs. Folk
who know me ken I’m not like
that. I like a drink, as do 90 per
cent of footballers, but I’m only
out once every couple of weeks.
I’m a quiet laddie.”
His last club were Bristol Rovers,
managed by Mark McGhee, and
he played 12 games in England’s
League Two without scoring a
goal. “Great bunch of guys, great
boss but maybe the worst time
playing-wise in my career. To be
honest, it was more like rugby.
There were all these big boys
and the ball just kept going
whoomph.” Another issue was
the commute back to Scotland
where Riordan’s partner
Suzannah was expecting their
second child. The family home is
in Airth, near Falkirk. “It’s a
wee Rangers toon with a lodge
and an Orange walk but dead
quiet and we love it.” Riordan’s
daughter Ruby, 3, has since been
joined by baby Romy. “Another
girl. I’m probably going to have
six of them until I get a boy!”
Before Bristol, and just as briefly
and unsuccessfully, there was a
stint in China with Shaanxi
Chan-Ba – a gobsmacking move
for a homeboy reckoned to have
held himself back. Did he go at
least partly to prove the
doubters wrong, albeit that his
two-year contract was mutually
terminated after only four
months? “No, it doesn’t bother
me what folk say about me –
they say so much, how can I?
But when the offer came up I
thought about how I’d turned
down Lokomotiv Moscow when
maybe I should have gone there.
Gaz [Garry O’Connor], my best
pal in football, was desperate for
me to buddy up with him. But
he had the girlfriend and the
bairn at that time and I
wondered if I’d end up playing
gooseberry.
“Anyway, China was okay for
the first month or so but then
everything fell apart. There was
corruption. There was a different
manager every month – two
Serbians and a Chinese. And as
for the standard of footballer, I
was playing with guys you could
have grabbed out of The Gunner
and that’s not a joke.” The
misadventure in X’ian came to a
head when news reached Pilton
and the rest of Scotland that
Deek had apparently
dematerialised. “The man has
disappeared,” reported the club.
“I was back in my hotel, training
on my own,” he explains. “I got
a row for swearing. I don’t know
if you’ve noticed that if I shoot
and miss I might swear – I’m a
huffy, angry guy when I’m not
playing well. I wasn’t swearing
at anyone that day but they’re
pretty strict about that sort of
thing over there.”
Culturally, over there, Riordan
struggled to adapt and he laughs
as he tells stories against
himself. “I had terrible problems
with the food. There was a big
welcome meal for the new
foreign players at a fancy
restaurant, Chinese obviously,
and I was glad when I spotted
chicken fried rice on the menu.
But when the plate came the
chicken was basically running
aboot. There was some team
bonding in another restaurant,
Chinese again, but this time it
was chicken feet, what I was told
was frog and other no’ right
stuff. I reckoned it probably
caused offence not to eat but I
couldn’t choose anything. X’ian
isn’t the most westernised place
in China but there was a Subway
so I was able to live off their
sandwiches until this Italian boy,
Fabio Firmani, took pity on me.
He was a former Lazio captain
and I ended up moving next to
him so he could cook me tomato
pasta every night.” Ultimately,
he missed his family too much.
And what of Bruce, his faithful
bulldog, so attached to our man
that tripping over the mutt and
injuring himself caused him to
miss an Edinburgh derby? “He
passed away when I was in
bloody China. I was devastated.”
Now I wish I hadn’t asked; he
looks like he’s going to cry.
Travelling back through
Riordan’s story we’ve reached
the crucial juncture: the (non-
Subway) sandwich of two spells
at Hibs either side of Celtic. A
different decision – he had
“tons” of offers to join other
clubs including Anderlecht,
Kaiserslautern and Nuremberg –
or a bit of that elusive luck and
his career might have worked
out differently, better. But was
he not, at least in part, master of
his own downfall through
attitude – he’s pleaded guilty to
sullenness and stroppiness – and
a hectic lifestyle? “Well, I think I
quietened down at Celtic, to be
fair. I moved to Glasgow to put a
lid on things and hardly ever
went out. At Hibs the first time,
the young ones under Tony
[Mowbray], we used to hit the
town three or four times a week.
But that team – Broony [Scott
Brown], Thommo, [Kevin
Thomson], Boozy [Guillaume
Beuzelin], Deano [Dean Shiels]
and the rest – had such
frightening potential that if we’d
stayed together we’d have won
the league easy by now.”
His bizarre Celtic interlude has
been well-documented, in as
much as anyone knows what
went wrong. Strachan hardly
needed another game-changer
but couldn’t resist signing him.
He was an unused sub so often
that Only an Excuse spoofed him
being considered alongside a
one-eyed man, a pensioner and
a flute-playing Orangeman
before the manager ordered a
drunk to get stripped. “Brilliant
sketch,” says Riordan. I remind
him of the time, with Celtic
going out of the League Cup to
Hearts, that big, lumbering
Evander Sno was sent to the
rescue. He counters with big,
lumbering Craig Beattie getting
the nod against Milan in the
Champions’ League.
I ask if distance has resulted in
any more perspective on Deek:
The Wilderness Years; he shakes
his head. Yes, everyone thought
he’d get on well with the
manager – “although he’s not
really from my bit, more
Muirhouse”. There were bust-
ups with Strachan “but you get
them anywhere”. No, he never
had a problem with left-midfield,
although goals have always been
his business and energy should
be conserved for them.
What of the story that Riordan
was stepping out with Strachan’s
daughter and the boss wasn’t
best-pleased? Yes, heard that one
“but I’d never met the lassie”.
The Scotland boss had been at
the Silverknowes clubhouse the
previous evening; maybe just as
well Riordan left early and
missed him. Press for further
insight into why this scorer of
goals of often brilliant
nonchalance is currently without
a club and he apologises for
offering up the line that, truly,
football is a funny old game. His
cult status is assured; so to his
own chapter of an updated
edition of Hampden Babylon,
should Stuart Cosgrove ever find
the time to write it. But, with a
family to support, Riordan would
much rather still be out there,
scoring and scowling.
He’s envious of Broonie and
another ex-teammate, Anthony
Stokes, trying to win the Scottish
Cup with Celtic tomorrow – and
he’d love to be in the Hibs team.
Some think he’s been a money-
grabber in the past, he says, but
after Bristol he offered to play
for the Hibees for nothing. “Pat
Fenlon said he had enough
strikers,” adds Riordan, but
maybe there’s another reason.
The manager is much
preoccupied with persuading
Leigh Griffiths of the benefits of
a having a long career free from
waywardness. Perhaps he thinks
Riordan and Griffiths’ strike
partner last season, the also
currently clubless O’Connor,
can’t help in this regard. “I
know,” he shrugs, “and if I’m
being held up as a bad example
I’m no’ happy.” The nightclub
ban is ongoing, as he found out
to his cost – £800 – when fined
last November for a breach of
the peace, a teen-era reunion
party proving too seductive to
resist. But, he insists, the
blackballing is punishment
aimed at drug-abusers and knife-
wielders and he’s neither.
What of Griffiths, does he rate
him? “Of course, he’s fantastic.
He says I was his hero growing
up and I’m flattered.” And
O’Connor – post-Siberia, how’s
doing? “Funnily enough, I got a
text from Gaz last night while I
was in bed. I tried ringing him
this morning but he’s an awfie
man for keeping his phone off
and not getting back to you for
three months. I hope he’s all
right.”
Just then Riordan’s mobile
beeps, flashing up a photo of his
daughters. On this non-golfing
day does he fancy another
round? Ach, why not? Before he
goes, I ask to see his tattoo, half-
hidden by a sleeve. “It’s Hibs,
kind of in instalments: the ship,
the harp, the castle. I don’t know
where I’m going to be playing
my football next – hopefully
somewhere – but I’d love to
finish up at Easter Road. The
club have done loads for me and
I love them to bits. Just one
more season, not even playing
every week, just coming on
when needed, that would be
brilliant.”
If that were to happen, surely
any drunks would have to defer
to Deek.
I remember a bunch of Man U fans with union jacks had unwisely positioned themselves in the Jungle. As the crowd built up they realised their mistake and they retreated to the distant rangers end.
AMAZING ATMOSPHERE @ Celtic Park vs FC Barcelona! 125 Years!
Scotsman has an interview with Gollum. One of the laptop loyal reminded him yesterday he had received death threats from Celtic Supporters after he awarded the phantom penalty for rangers a couple of years back.
This banana republic is hunbelievable at times.
Good morning CQNers from a sunny Halfway, no drums a beating yet, are the satsumas oot the day???
Hail Hail
Happy cup final eve
This time tomorrow I will be putting my shinguards on ;)
Neil canamalar 16.53.
I would have thought that the point of my post was perfectly clear. It was to praise our former chairman and to criticise the so-called supporters who booed him.
TnT
Just saw your request to BT , sent you a mail yesterday , dont know if you will have got it yet I am in Angola and the internet is poor at best so a lot of stuff gets timed out . I am due home on Wednesday so will contact you then.
HH
For Pinsent Masons ,read Compliant Masons. No links between Chuckles and Craigy, nothing to see here , move along now.
HUNBELIEVABLE
captainmoonlight
Can hear them in G69. It must be what you do when your team keeps getting humped out the cup.
BT, staying in Belgrave hotel between the Belle pub and Kelvinbridge underground on Gt Western road.
ASonOfDan,
was that the Ramsdens, League or Scottish Cup
HH
Happy 25 th of may
Pog.
Know where you are..
Couple of nice coffee shops down on gibson st. Artisan roast across from greggs iz vg.. park should be pleasant today..
“If Celtic ever go to the moon…”
European Cup Final 1967 – Celtic v Inter – Match Highlights
CQN Saturday Naps Competition – FINAL WEEK
Lads, for those who are in the CQN Saturday Naps competition, please go back and post your selection at the end of the previous article :
“Life truisms and leaving extra in the Hampden lockers”
All the best, fleagle1888
Morning,all
I see another independent legal inquiry into hunland goings-on has come up with that quaint Scottish verdict of
“NOTHING TO SEE HERE,TIMMY-EFF OFF!”
I wonder how the selection process for these panels works. Having spent a lifetime building a reputation for upholding the law,how do they find themselves in a process where the objective is to undermine it?
“Here are the details,here’s the verdict. We want you to use all your skills….”
It’s like Stalin’s show trials in reverse.
A very Happy Lisbon day one and all and more importantly in the Starry house a very Happy Birthday to wee Hana Skye, three years big today, I don’t think life can get any better that being with your family celebrating and building a life based on truth, faith and friendship, well except maybe a wee Cup victory as the cherry on the Celtic cake!