But somewhere out of the darkness must come light. My generation coincided with Celtic’s worst period. Yet they still occupied a special place at the edge of my imagination, as a powerful, strange force that always somehow held the promise of a sense of meaning.
And now, incredibly, that promise threatens to be delivered. So savour this moment. Remember this place. Remember the way it looks and sounds and smells. Remember the way the moment feels. Savour it when life gets tough. Because if this can happen – if a football team that contains Catholics and Protestants, a set of players who all hail from the Glasgow area, a club set up to feed the hungry children of despised immigrants – if they can become champions of Europe, then anything is possible.
From The Road to Lisbon, a novel, published today, by Martin Greig and Charles McGarry.
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Gordon_J
unelevenable ?
Hail Hail
67 in the heat of Lisbon,
The fans came in their thousands,
To see the bhoys become champions.
67 ….. Repeat until hoarse (thumbs up)
V
Hx2
Marrakesh Express on 25 May, 2012 at 09:46 said:
I went to every home game and it wasnt untill we saw off Vojvodina (who were very good) that we felt that something big could be happening…
I had an argument with a hun in a pub about the merits of our victory. He said as per expected: “It wiz easier tae win it back then. Thur iz less games in maist irra teams wur crap anywie.” How was I to counter the sharp blazing scimitar like intellect of this hun? Sometimes in the face of such overwhelming ignorance & inveterate obtuseness you just have to accept you are up against insurmountable odds- what can you say? The thing such morons fail to understand is the demographics & topography of football in those days:
1) None of the biased protectionist seeding’s system (In fact did we not get Kiev in Ist Rnd the following season?).
2) The 60/early 70s was the true golden age of football when every great European club had their greatest players/teams: Benfica. Real & Atletico. Barca. Inter & AC. Ajax ( who beat Liverpool 5-1 in 67 then were put out by our semi opponents Dukla Prague). Anderlecht. Munich.
3) Playing the Eastern European clubs was effectively playing national teams: Kiev. Dukla. Vojvodina. Partizan. Vorwarts Berlin. CSKA. Gornick ( who had Lubanski- a Rangers fan once told me he had seen him at Ibrox & was possibly the greatest player he had ever seen). Russian clubs. Hungarians etc…who were all at that time very strong ( unlike now when they are ravaged by rich vultures from other leagues).
4) the old fashioned knockout system made it harder to win- one bad game & you could be out: unlike now when you can suffer numerous defeats and still win the Big Cup.
5) The inherent dignity of the tournament exclusively containing “true” champions- unlike in the example of Chelski.
PS
Still don’t think that was a penalty to Inter.
Even though I’ve seen the game so many times ( watching it even now ) I am always haunted by the same impression: the “spookiness” of the illusion that Celtic had an extra man. Every time I watch the game it seems as though we had more players than them…very strange.
Its like a weird sporting case of TS Eliot’s “Sensed-Presence Effect”.
Or maybe the Lions were just so much better than them.
One of the most impressively striking aspects of the performance in Lisbon is the very high tempo of the Celtic attacking ( the way I think all Celtic sides should play)- they must have been incredibly fit to play with such intensity- effectively wearing Inter down.
Victor yesterday with the Kibera guys…
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.413765118663399.92502.133829389990308&type=1
Should be back in Larkhall on 4/5th June for our annual sojourn so Hamilton races on the 7th sounds like a plan…………..
Regards & Hail Hail
TBM
Good Morning.
Last Saturday afternoon, hours before the Champions League final in Munich I found myself wandering around the wonderful place that the locals call Camp Nou.
I had hoped to find myself in a city that was celebrating the winning of another Big Cup later in the evening. Alas as we all know it was not to be.
As I walked around the interactive exhibition, I got a real sense of the history of this club, recalling the great names who have played there– Kempes, Ronaldo, Cruyff, Neeskins, Figo, Kubala,Stoichkov, Guardiola, Ronaldhinio….. I could go on forever… and of course our own Henrik.
I wandered past the screens showing great games of the past and the numerous trophies. I watched people getting their photo taken with one of the big cups that they have. I wandered out pitchside and looked up at where I was sitting when WE put them – and all their big names– OUT of Europe.
I love Barcelona as a city, I admire the Catalan spirit and their football team play sublime football—- however I have a BUT… and it is a pretty big but at that.
When Celtic were playing sublime football in Lisbon, Barcelona were an also ran as a football team in Europe. In their Museum, you will find a piece that says that in the 50’s and 60’s they, like the rest of Spain, were heavily under Franco’s Boot.
I am no admirer of Franco but recognise that his football team– Madrid— gathered a team in the 60’s that was a wonder– a team to set European football on a roll. Until 1967, European football had all been about 3 teams– Mardid, Bela Guttman’s magnificent Benfica, and Helenio Herrera’s custom built and fantastically expensive Inetrnatzionale side– on whom fortunes were spent with the sole aim of replacing Madrid as the king of the footballing castle.
Again, wandering around the Camp Nou, I came to the list of great managers they have had. Cruyff, Robson, Venables, Van Gaal, Reikaard…… and there again was the name Herrera. He was manager there– in the ’50’s, 60’s, 70’s. and even 80’s— he even returned to Inter in ’73-’74. Yes, even after Stein had polished his footballing clock with a team of locals– Hererra was sufficiently regarded to be appointed manager of Barcelona– a team that we associate with lovely passing flowing attacking football- a man we associate with defensive negativity, psychological warfare and whose coaching was to get your nose in front and then just plain kill the game– as a spectacle, as a contest, as a sport and as an entertainment.
Why did Barcelona employ him? Because they wanted to win! Being FC Barcelona was not enough– they wanted trophies, they wanted to oust Madrid as well– they wanted THE BIG CUP and Herrera had already won it with Inter.
And there lies the source of my big BUT if you pardon the expression. Behind the scenes at Barca no one can say that things are alright. What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, so while we complain about Rangers debts- little if anything is said about the Barca debt of 578 Million Euros. Madrid top that with debt of 589 Million and the rest of Spanish football– while enjoying 5 semi finalists in the European competitions— is also crippled with massive debt.
These debts include unpaid taxes by the Million, and Spain as a whole cannot allow such debts to remain unpaid.
Barca’s Income for the year is 450 Million Euros and Madrid’s is 479Million, but even so, neither is able to make a dent in their debts… and maintain their status at the top of the footballing tree.
On 6th May 1978 Joesph Lluis Nunez was elected President of Barcelona and promised a renewal of the club and its finances. He tenure of office lasted 22 years and of course included Cruyff’s dream team which was so successful in the early 1990’s. However, this was not enough and by 2000 there was considerable opposition to Nunez especially from Elefant Blau- a supporters organisation headed by a young lawyer called Joan Laporta.
Nunez resigned but was succeeded by Joan Gaspart who had been his deputy. However further elections were forced in 2003, with the result that Laporta became top dog.
Now there is no doubting that Nunez, Gaspart and Laporta have all done great things for Barcelona. They have between them built a huge “Brand”– a brand that touches the heart, the nature of Catalan survival and highlights the region’s differences with the rest of Spain. Barcelona is marketed as a fashionable commodity. Their shops are cool, The T shirts fashionable and of good quality, their merchandise, adverts, and whole ethos– is top drawer stuff.
But they are hopelessly in debt today. So much debt that it makes the eyes water. There is no way out of that debt other than to trade out, and that is difficult when you are a club that pays top dollar to be top dog.
Platini’s regulations will bight the Barca’s, The Madrid’s and the others in the arse– big chunky bites at that– and the consequences– for them at least will be painful.
I love Barcelona and its Mes Que un Club attitude— but I resent that to get where it has gotten to it has effectively “bought” that success. Whilst I condemn the business failure– in a club of the people– as opposed to a club run for the Ego of one man— I can understand it. Even sympathise with it a little.
However, my point is this. Earlier on in this board someone said that we- Celtic- would not win the big cup again for another 45 years.
Well– I am not too sure about that. You see we don’t have the endless trophy cabinet that Barca has– nor do we have the debt. What we do have is a support– a support that is second to none when it comes to supporting Celtic in any continent on the planet. As yet we do not have the global brand that Barca enjoy– but then again we have not spent the money on it.
We have a brand that is pretty close though in some areas. Winning the league puts us in Europe- in the top flight, and no matter how the team actually performs this gives us a chance to do something that others can’t. As can be scene from the Norwich game the other night, the reaction to thousands of Celtic fans being the ambassadors for the club– for the sport– results in Celtic merchandise flying out the door and the expansion of brand Celtic.
If Neil lennon can put an exciting young team on the park– and remember that the Europa league winners were the only wons to defeat us home and away at a dodgy part of the season– we the Celtic fans can enhance and advance Celtic in a unique way– in a way that does not involve the debts of Nunez, Laporta and Co.
Football is levelling in financial terms. It will take years yet to get to an even playing field– if it ever does. But brand Celtic– the spirit of Celtic, the charitable origins of Celtic, the legend of Lisbon and the football that was played 45 years ago today– is a commodity and half. If wages become anywhere near par, and Celtic can garner something close to a European reputation again, then players will want to play for this club and supporters will want to support. And whilst that is the stuff of dreams– it is also a sound business plan.
And remember while Madrid have continued to buy success, until Mourinho arrived at the San Siro we had won the big cup more recently than Inter or Benfica!
My trip to Barcelona also took in a Bruce Springsteen concert. I like Springsteen. He is the son of a Dutch Irishman, has his feet on the ground and is a protest singer from the Jersey shores. Bruce has always called it like it is.
He is a very private man for a public figure. A guy with a message and a soul– and a real sense of decency about him… and I like that.
BUT
A year ago or so he lost his long time friend and band member Clarence Clemons. If you follow music you will know that Clarence was the sax player in the E Street band. he was a huge Black man– Springsteen describes him on stage as the biggest man in the world—- weighing well over 300 pounds, Clarence was a huge man in every way. He had the intention of being a Pro Footballer but a car crash wrecked his knees and so he took to blowing his horne instead.
In his latest album cover, Springsteen talks about the “unusual” friendship between the big black man and the skinny white boy in the late ’60’s and early ’70’s. It was something that not everyone was comfortable with in those dark times. However. Springsteen says this of Clarence:
He was a big man. He made me feel big… and made me DREAM big. Too big to die? Clarence doesn’t leave the E-street band when he dies– he leaves it when WE die.
Back at the Camp Nou I thought of another Big Man who is too Big to die. I thought of Helenio Herrera and his fabulous Inter Team who got well and truly stuffed by the BIG MAN’s “wee” team from Scotland, and this Barcelona team with all its stars and all its debt. I thought about sitting up there just 8 years ago when WE put THEM out of Europe when they had Ronaldhinio and Saviola and all those guys. We had guys play out their socks that night. Davie Marshall, John Kennedy but two.
Celtic eh?
Makes you feel Big….. makes you dream big… and if you dream often enough and big enough sometimes those dreams come true.
You can’t start a fire without a spark!!
———————————————————————————————————–
As we approach the midnight hour, I thought I would post a wee tale from a year ago tomorrow– and 45 years ago in time.
Good Afternoon,
On 12th April 1967, My Father and mother took the unusual step of deciding to remortgage their house. The reason for this decision was not that a new kitchen was needed, or an extension needed to be built or anything else like that. No the decision was made when the final whistle went at Celtic park with the result that Celtic had beaten Ducla Prague by 3 goals to 1. The oul fella had argued that if Celtic won by two clear goals then the trip to the bank was on. What he had in mind was a gamble but Stein’s team did not lose two goal advantages– and he had seen enough of Ducla that night to believe that Celtic would go to Lisbon.
By the following week, he had collected the money raised and he had spent most of it!
It was nearly all gone by the time Celtic kicked off in the afternoon match in Prague. As there was no football coverage on TV he had to call back by phone from London to my mother to find out the score from Prague. I would guess that he was slightly nervous, and his nerves were made all the worse when he could not get a word out of the mother on the phone– all she did was cry!!
Presuming that the unimaginable had happened, he began to try and calm her down over the phone, telling her that though they had lost a few quid, everything would be ok and that it was not the end of the world and that he would make the money back again. Somehow, the mother managed to blurt out four words: ” We won– we’re through!”– and that changed the tone of the conversation totally.
Putting the phone down the father scurried off about his business.
Not long after, a man politely knocked on the door of his boss. The Boss man was a small bespectacled man in a dapper suit.
” Sorry, sir, but there is a man in reception asking to see you and who says that it is urgent. When I asked him what he wanted, he said that he wanted to hire every one of your planes for three days in May. He is clearly deranged and I have called for the police and an Ambulance– but in case there is a commotion I suggest you stay in here for the time being”.
“What did he want the planes for?” said the boss
” Some rubbish about a football match and a team from Glasgow— He says that Celtic are in the European Cup Final in Lisbon.”
” And are they?”
“I don’t know– I just thought he was mad!”
The Boss man then picked up the phone and called the Daily Express and asked where the European Cup final was to be played and who was in it. Lisbon was the correct answer and as for the participants– well that would be Glasgow Celtic and either Internazionale or CSKA Red Flag who were to play that night.
The Boss man came out to the reception to meet with another small bespectacled man who had the remainder of the remortgage money in his bag.
” Hello” said the boss man ” I’m Freddie Laker.”
For those too young to remember Freddie Laker, he started Laker airlines in 1966 and tried to establish the company as a charter company flying people and mail all over. He later went on to be knighted and to challenge British Airways on their transatlantic routes. His was the first real budget scheduled airline, but in 1967 no one had ever heard of him and no one had tried to book all of his planes at once!
Ultimetely the oul fella flew 17 planes to Lisbon. He knew and saw that not only were the team capable of remarkebale things but that the Celtic support would travel in vast numbers to the Portuguese capitol. Some drove, some trained, but the majority flew and this was the first mass airlift of football fans in Europe. That is often forgotten. In those days the final was played somewhere and the majority of spectators were local to the chosen stadium. The travelling football army was a Celtic first and each time it has had the chance to invade foreign soil for a final it grows from the time before—- Lisbon, Milan, Seville.
I still have unused tickets for that day in May 1967. I also have treasured photographs of my dad and my grandfather with his chosen guest who he took to Lisbon to see Celtic lift the cup. He , like many others, had no doubt that Stein’s team would win. The Guest was one of my Dad’s favourite players and someone he would have put into his team in response to Serge’s post. The Player and guest was Charles Patrick Tully.
Much has been written about that day in Lisbon, but what sticks with me is that how different things are now compared to then, how the world and the game has moved on.
In 1967 loads of people in England and elsewhere did not follow European football at all. Other than Real Madrid coming to play the final in Glasgow,the event was not much covered in the British Isles. There had been a general feeling within the English FA that Europe was not for English teams. Further it was a latin dominated event.
However among those who did follow European Football there was a feeling that the free flowing football of Real Madrid was a thing of the past. The Inter team played an unbeatable form of football, cynical football, professionally efficient football– get in front and kill the game.
Barry Davis had a great series on radio 5 a number of years ago called the great European teams and in it, he concluded that the Celtic team of 1967-72 was undoubtedly the best team in Europe going by consistent results. But the key was that everyone of a neutral hue wanted them to win. Inter’s dearest player cost £250,000 in 1967– which was a fortune then. It was a team designed to stop Madrid and later Benfica and to dominate football with it’s all efficient system.
For the press, Lisbon ‘67 was good against bad, light against dark, football against the anti footballing ideology of Herrera. The idea that Stein could produce this local team which played such magnificent football was like a fairytale– the stuff of Hollywood. And win they did. A friend of mine, who is a Rangers fan, described it as the day Celtic THRASHED Inter Milan by two goals to one. It was a footballing lesson– a beating to beat all beatings. A masterclass in entertaining attacking football.
But it brought about so much more than just a win. It was the precursor to total football in Holland. It deeply influenced how the Brazil team of 1970 would play against many of the same players in an Italy shirt in the world cup final. The pictures also advertised this idea of the vast travelling football support and of course the Freddie Lakers of this world realised there was money in football charters.
Postscript
There is a great apochryphal tale told about the 1970 World Cup. Everyone is familiar with the magnificent goal that was scored that day by Carlos Alberto the Brazilian Captain. In my minds eye, I can see Pele gently nudge the ball to the right, and the flashing Carlos Alberto running onto it to hit a screamer into the net. I also recall Albertos behind the goal celebrations– almost but not quite matching the mentalness of a Rivelino celebration.
Brazil destroyed Italy that day. This was a good Italian team too– with many that he played with Inter under Helenio Herrera. Remember too, that Herrera was no slouch– he managed Barcelona three times in three different decades.
Anyway, the story goes that at the press conference afterwards, the press were lauding the fourth Brazilian goal, and praising the fact that the move started all the way back in their own half with Tostao.
Someone asked Mario Zagallo, the Brazilian manager, if the move was from the training ground, and whether he had his team practised moves that were started at the back by forwards and finished by fullbacks running up the park?
Zagallo was a shrewd old fox. Apparently he sighed, looked at the press and said ” Yes– that move came from the training ground. The training ground at 95 Kerrydale Street Glasgow. That is where we were shown how to beat an Italian team, how to get down the flanks, push your fullbacks up the park and play beautiful football. That is where the move started!”