Succulent Champions League draws

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There were some tasty, some would say succulent, draws in the Champions League yesterday.  Milan-Barcelona have both won the tournament within the last decade, and although Milan are at the bottom of the trough at the moment, this tie will be a huge attraction for those of us who like our football tinged with history.

Real Madrid will travel to Manchester for the second time this season as both teams look to reclaim former European eminence.  Porto-Malaga is not one that sets pulses racing but it is a token of an often-discussed concept at this level.  Malaga are a fine side but are new to the competition, Porto come from a less-illustrious league but are steeped in Champions League heritage.  Do you need to learn how to play in this tournament or were UK TV commentators making excuses for the failure of the English champions? Not sure but I fancy Porto to progress.

Arsenal have the daunting prospect of Bayern Munich.  The German champions are clear at the top of the league which produced three group stage winners.  They are also still self-flagellating after dropping the ball against English opposition in May.  Beating Arsenal will not mend those wounds but it will be an absolute must for Bayern.

I watched a bit of Shakhtar Donetsk during the group stage; they are a very skilful team.  Borussia Dortmund will not enjoy their trip to Ukraine, I expect Shakhtar to progress.

Valencia are not enjoying the best of seasons but although Paris Saint Germain are now top of Ligue 1 I think they are set for a fall in the Champions League.  PSG may have enough to get past Valencia but if we make it to the quarters I would be happy to face them.

Galatasaray sit alongside Celtic as rank outsiders at the bookmakers, never a bad place to lurk at this stage of the competition.  Schalke are tighter odds than Milan (7th in Serie A) and Valencia (11th in La Liga) perhaps because of the ‘kind’ draw.  There will be at least one team in the quarter finals we would fancy our chances with.

The immediate challenge for Neil Lennon is to keep his players’ focus on tomorrow’s game against Ross County.  It took an injury time equaliser to earn a point for Celtic against County earlier in the season, so nothing can be taken for granted.

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  1. Out of the depths we cry to thee Oh Lord.

     

     

     

    The Black ’47 Journal of Gerald Keegan

     

     

    Source: Gerald Keegan, Famine Diary: Journey to a New World, Dublin: Wolfhound Press. First published in 1895; reprinted in 1991.

     

     

     

    February 18, 1847. I am beginning this journal today in the hope that it will be a

     

    message to the world from this downtrodden land of ours. I realize that it may never

     

    be beyond the confines of this little village in County Sligo. In that case I will at least

     

    have the satisfaction of putting my thoughts into words. They are the words of a poor

     

    village schoolmaster, one of the two thousand tenants on Lord Palmerston’s hugh

     

    estate.

     

     

    If the outside world only knew the facts about Ireland’s condition I know that we

     

    would get help. The news that is getting out, mainly from the London Times, is a

     

    complete distortion of what is actually going on. I am determined to write down

     

    everything that strikes me as the reality of our situation. The weather on this bleak,

     

    cold February day is in tune with the mood and the state of the people all over the

     

    land. What is most heart rending to me is the sad plight of the children.

     

    Today when I told my cousin, Timmy O’Connor, to put out his hand for punishment

     

    for neglecting to do any work all week he said: “It’s not that I meant it, sir. It’s the

     

    belly gripe that I feel all the time and I can’t do any work.” The tears in his eyes

     

    overwhelmed me. I am shocked at myself for even thinking of any kind of

     

    punishment for neglect of duty. What is duty after all when people are literally

     

    tortured by the pangs of hunger? When school was out I slipped a penny into

     

    Timmy’s hand to buy a scone at the baker’s.

     

     

    February 19, 1847. When I came to my boarding house after school today Mrs.

     

    Moriarty, my landlady, told me that my Uncle Jeremiah was coming over to see me.

     

    Poor man, he must be coming to ask for some help to keep Timmy and the two girls

     

    alive. But I won’t have a shilling in my pocket till the board pays my quarterly

     

    salary, if indeed my allowance could be called a salary.

     

     

    The drawn and haggard look of Jeremiah when he came to the door left me in no

     

    doubt about his own half-starved condition. Many of the parents in this area are

     

    starving themselves in an attempt to keep their children alive. I got Mrs. Moriarty to

     

    roast another herring and serve it to him with a cup of tea. It turned out that he did

     

    not come to borrow or beg but to talk of emigration. He claimed that the whole

     

    country was in the throes of a mass emigration movement to Canada. I knew about it

     

    myself but I also know that it is, deep down, a forced expulsion under a plan

     

    conceived and now being executed by the landlords.

     

     

    February 21, 1847. It is true that there is a potato famine in practically every part of

     

    the country but there is corn and wheat and meat and dairy products in abundance.

     

    For putting his hands on any of this, the tenant is liable to prison, even to execution

     

    or exile.

     

     

    February 23, 1847. The most disheartening effect of the intense sufferings of the

     

    people is a kind of despair and a sense of hopelessness that they are beginning to

     

    show. The average Irishman is a lover of conversation, music, poetry and even of

     

    leprechauns, so symbolic of the spirit world in which we like to roam. But all of

     

    these, together with the saving gift of seeing the humorous side to even the most

     

    desperate situation, is giving way to an alarming indifference to what fate has

     

    seemingly decreed for us.

     

     

    March 3, 1847. I started school after Christmas with 23 pupils. This week there are 14

     

    left. I don’t think I can endure facing their pathetic-looking glances much longer. I

     

    am trying to teach them something about the various uses of numbers, though about

     

    the only practical calculating they can do is to count the number who are dying

     

    around them every day.

     

     

    March 7, 1847. Father Tom noted my presence in Church and he sent an altar boy to

     

    ask me to come and see him. After a hearty greeting he led me to his humble

     

    presbytery for a cup of tea. We had a long chat about the emigration movement. We

     

    agree that it would be better to meet death right here, in preference to submitting to

     

    the treacherous terms of the landlords.

     

     

    We did not mention it but I’ve heard that there is a price on his head. I feel that

     

    this will be our last meeting. When told about my engagement to Eileen Shanahan he

     

    was genuinely pleased and favoured going ahead with the marriage, suggesting that

     

    it would be a small tribute to life in a world of death.

     

     

    March 8, 1847. Evictions and tumblings are going on at a mad rate now. The

     

    tumblings are cruel. The brutality of the herds of marauders who are smashing down

     

    the humble cottages of the tenants knows no bounds. People are beaten, even killed,

     

    when they resist. They are given no time to remove their belongings. Seldom are

     

    there any reasons given for the evictions. Living on a choice bit of land, not turning

     

    in enough crop to the landlord, being in arrears with the landlord’s rent or the fees

     

    collected by the State church — any of these can serve as excuses for the tumblers to

     

    demolish a cabin without warning.

     

     

    March 9, 1847. I had a long chat with Eileen today. She came to the school and saw my

     

    woe-begone little group of scholars. Acutely aware as she is, of all that is going on,

     

    she still continues to radiate happiness. On the way home she expressed her complete

     

    agreement with my plan to close the school very soon. The main topic of our

     

    conversation was the emigration movement. Should we join the emigrants or should

     

    we stay here? We both want to do something for our people and the choice is a

     

    difficult one to make. The vast majority of the tenants in this district have made the

     

    decision to risk emigration. They are our kith and kin. And once they sign a paper

     

    they will be at the mercy of the landlords and their agents. We feel that they are the

     

    ones who will be in great need for help. These considerations make us feel that we

     

    should join them. Eileen’s father, the last of her family, is going to move to Limerick

     

    where some of his relatives live. He is in ill-health and feels that his term is short.

     

    Eileen showed me a clipping form the London Times which shows how

     

    ridiculously ill-informed, or should I say deliberately blind, are the people who are

     

    mainly responsible for our condition. The clipping contained a news item which tells

     

    us that the Queen, on the basis of information given to her by ministers of the

     

    government, declared that there seems to be a “dearth of provisions in Ireland.” If

     

    she had only declared that there is a “dearth of provisions for a few million who are

     

    under the heel of oppression and plenty of food for the chosen few,” she would have

     

    been telling the truth.

     

     

    March 11, 1847. Tomorrow is Thursday, the day I intend to close my school. I am

     

    packing my few books this evening and trying to brace myself for tomorrow. Eileen

     

    knows the way I feel about it all and she is coming to visit me tomorrow evening. We

     

    will make our final decision on the emigration question.

     

     

    March 12, 1847. I sat at my desk in school for a long time after the children left today.

     

    It was with tears in my eyes that I told them they would have to stay home for a

     

    while, though I myself knew it was forever. The ordeal of witnessing them trying to

     

    say goodbye to me was crushing. Some of them seemed to know that it was a final

     

    goodbye. Eileen arrived early and, to get our minds off the present, we talked about

     

    our immediate future. If we are to join our people in their exodus we must get things

     

    done immediately. March 25 is our choice for a wedding date. Getting our few

     

    belongings together will be a simple matter for we own very little of this world’s

     

    goods.

     

     

    I was not at all surprised when Tim Maloney dropped in this evening. He keeps

     

    steady on the move and is finely tuned to what is really happening in these dark

     

    times. As usual he brought some important news. Referring to the emigrants he told

     

    us that the landlords have selected the old, the infirm, the children and the destitute

     

    for the first shiploads to Canada. Anyone who is still able to work for them, to make

     

    the land produce, they are trying to hold back.

     

     

    March 13, 1847. The outside is finally learning about our plight. Contributions are

     

    coming in. Newspapers in Dublin and Cork are publishing the names of countries, all

     

    over the world, that are collecting money and sending it here to help provide food

     

    for the starving. This is very uplifting. The thought that the outside world is

     

    concerned about us adds hope where all else is despair. The United States, the chosen

     

    homeland of many thousands of Irish emigrants, outdid all others in generosity. A

     

    city named Philadelphia topped all other United States centres in the magnitude of its

     

    donation. The Jewish people of New York city matched the Irish in their response to a

     

    public appeal for funds. Among all the donations from various parts of the world

     

    there is one that is singularly appreciated. It comes from a small tribe of native

     

    North American Indians, the Chocktaw tribe from central western United States.

     

    These noble-minded people, sometimes called savages by those who wantonly

     

    released death and destruction among them, raised money from their meager

     

    resources to help the starving in this country. This is indeed the most touching of all

     

    the acts of generosity that our condition has inspired among nations.

     

     

    March 16, 1847. The emigration scheme, though fraudulent and treacherous, is

     

    serving one useful purpose. It is raising a flicker of hope in the hearts of many who

     

    would otherwise give up. Countless thousands are now ready to take the chance.

     

    Today the local agent came with an attorney who got the people to sign a paper. What

     

    they are signing is a release of all claims on their property and furniture and a

     

    promise to give the agent possession by April 10.

     

     

    March 22, 1847. Patrick Michael Shanahan, Eileen’s father, died during the night.

     

    Like myself Eileen is an orphan now. On account of the pestilence Patrick will have

     

    to be buried without delay.

     

     

    March 24, 1847. Tomorrow, Thursday, is still a big question mark. As far as we

     

    ourselves are concerned, I mean Eileen and myself, there is nothing to prevent us

     

    from going ahead with the wedding ceremony. But convention demands a reasonable

     

    period of mourning. I purposely spoke to several of my closet friends to sound out

     

    their opinion. They all seem to think that, considering the times in which we live,

     

    there would be nothing indelicate about carrying out our plan.

     

     

    March 27, 1847. Thursday was our big day and it was indeed a big day for our guests.

     

    After the wedding Mass, Father Flynn invited all present to a meal at the schoolhouse

     

    at noon hour. Where it all came from I cannot for the life of me imagine but there

     

    before us was a huge pot of hot vegetable soup, scones, and even some cakes, fish and gallons of tea.

     

     

    March 31, 1847. It is early morning as I write this last note before departing. We now

     

    join a huge army forced to leave their native land for the convenience of the rich

     

    and the powerful. The heavy morning mist is a fitting curtain for the final scene, the

     

    climax, of all our strivings against impossible odds.

     

     

    And from such despairs…Celtic FC was born.

  2. From Choctaw.com

     

     

    The Choctaw people have a history of helping others – one of the best examples is the $170 that was given to the Irish in 1847 during the potato famine. To realize the beauty and generosity of this story, one has to understand what a challenging couple of decades this had been for the Indian people.

     

     

    In 1831 the Choctaw Indians were forcibly removed from their ancestral lands in Mississippi to what is now known as Oklahoma. The Choctaws were the first of several tribes to make the trek along The Trail of Tears. The years during and immediately following this journey were very difficult for the tribal people. The winter of this particular Trail of Tears was the coldest on record – the food and clothing of the people were severely inadequate and transportation needs were not properly met. Many of the Choctaws did not survive the trip, and those that did not perish faced hardships establishing new homes, schools, and churches.

     

     

    A few years after this long, sad march, the Choctaws learned of people starving to death in Ireland. The Irish were dying because although there were other crops being grown in their country, all but the potato were marked for export by the British rulers. The Irish poor were not allowed any other sustenance than the potato, and from 1845-1849 this vegetable was diseased. Only sixteen years had passed since the Choctaws themselves had faced hunger and death on the first Trail of Tears, and a great empathy was felt when they heard such a similar story coming from across the ocean. Individuals made donations totaling $170 in 1847 to send to assist the Irish people. These noble Choctaw people, who had such meager resources, gave all they could on behalf of others in greater need.

     

     

    This charitable attitude resonates still today when crisis situations occur across the world. In 2001, tribal people made a huge contribution to the Firefighters Fund after the Twin Towers attack in New York City and have since made major contributions to Save the Children and the Red Cross for the 2004 tsunami relief and 2005 Hurricane Katrina and victims of the Haiti earthquake. Good works are not exclusive to humanitarian organizations and funds. The Choctaw Nation received the 2008 United States Freedom Award for the efforts made for the members of the National Guard and Reserve and their families. There are countless stories of Choctaw individuals and churches who have looked past their own needs to help their neighbors. “It is only right that the tribe share what God has so generously allowed us,” said Choctaw Chief Gregory E. Pyle.

     

     

    The people of Ireland have never forgotten the kindness shown from the Choctaw Indians. The Irish, realizing that these Native American had delved deep into their own pockets for what little they had to share, have welcomed delegations from the Choctaw Nation and have visited the tribal lands in Oklahoma. In 1992, a plaque was unveiled at the Lord Mayor’s Mansion in Dublin, Ireland that reads, “Their humanity calls us to remember the millions of human beings throughout our world today who die of hunger and hunger-related illness in a world of plenty.”

     

     

    Check out this Childrens book. (Amazon sells it)

     

     

    The Long March: The Choctaw’s Gift to Irish Famine Relief by author/illustrator Mary-Louise Fitzpatrick

     

     

    Endorsed by the Choctaw Nation.‚ A Smithsonian Notable Book for Children, 1998.‚ Children’s Books of Ireland BISTO Book of the Year Merit Award, 1999.

  3. What drives these scumbags in government is fear…..they fear illness, they fear disability, they fear the stranger, the immigrant, the homosexual, the other, anything that strays from their narrow, white, tied-up tied-down view of themselves and how all around them should be. Should anyone veer from the proscribed path they will be put to the test, be it the dunking chair in the local pond, or Atos. Tested in such a rigorous way that the despised has no way to pass the impossible test. In the 17th. Century it would mean death.

     

    In the 21st. Century it means sanctions, removal of benefits, and eventual death (they hope). Either way, it is the identical mind-set which drives the prevailing culture of the times when the fearful rule by fear in order to be perceived as the feared. And they will put their fear upon us, even unto death.

     

    That is their nature.

     

    IDS is the modern equivalent of The WitchFinder General.

  4. CQN Saturday Naps Competition

     

     

    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 :

     

     

    “Celtic-Juve after two previous tight encounters ”

     

     

    Alternatively, if you cannot access the previous article for any reason, then you can send me an email message with your selection to : fleagle29 at gmail.com

     

     

    All the best,

     

     

    fleagle1888

  5. ArranmoreBhoyLXV11 on

    HH

     

     

    8am ISH . Feels like 3am…

     

     

    Cannae wait to see the Bhoys today..

     

    What chance the Celtic shop will be busy???

     

     

    Ha.

  6. Good Morning Gents. Hope everyone is well. 3 pts today and all the Christmas shopping done, Cant Beat it. Eggnog still to be made today and a few pints with the Bhoys from work, Cant beat it. Enjoy yer day Bhoys.

     

     

    Hail Hail!!!

     

     

    KLV

  7. 67Heaven ... I am Neil Lennon..!!.. Ibrox belongs to the creditors on

    Just found out NEIL is Sky Sports Manager of th year ………WOW

  8. West Wales Celt on

    Just started my leave and man flu has taken hold.

     

    Will drag my self bravely over to the Mac at 3pm, fear not.

     

    Congrats to NFL on his latest acolade…

  9. morning from a miserable BT, or blantyre at least….soggy best conditions to expect today…

     

     

    looking forward to meeting St Martins bhoy and his fellow tynesiders; a bus from Montrose and our old friends from Methal this morning..

     

     

    safe journey to you long distance travellers making your way to Celtic park..

     

    HH & KTF

  10. 67Heaven … I am Neil Lennon..!!.. Ibrox belongs to the creditors

     

    08:45 on

     

    22 December, 2012

     

    Just found out NEIL is Sky Sports Manager of the year ………WOW

     

    —————————————————————————————-

     

    I’m just WOWING at your surprise,it was a certainty.

     

    Even though I never knew they had a manager of the year:O)HH

  11. HT

     

     

    at the moment negotiations are heated …

     

     

    whats your plans? you staying out or coming home first?

  12. GourockEmeraldBhoy on

    Good morning CQNers from a wet n wild n very dark Gourock. Looking forward to the game today with ma youngest bhoy.

     

     

    Kitalba, never knew that about the Choctaw Indians, thanks for the info on the book, will purchase that later.

     

     

    Christmas night out after game for a few bhoys back in montys.

     

     

    Hail Hail

  13. BT

     

     

    Staying out mate. Will probably wait for a taxi after the game so the old yin doesn’t need to walk it into town. So will be in one of his preferred hosteleries by about 6.

  14. 6.20 train from Tyre will have me at Argyle St for 6.35… will text you to find out your position… o))

  15. Watching juve v Cagliari and surprise surprise cag get a man sent off for nothing whilst winning 1:0.some things never change.

  16. Any help bhoys

     

     

    If you get a fixed penalty from the police, and they have spelt your name wrong and have the address wrong by 9 doors, will I get away with it?

     

     

    Was done for drinking a bottle of beer.

  17. Swiftly followed by a soft penalty.if anyone thinks we will

     

    Be allowed to beat them you are kidding yourself on…….by the way pen missed

  18. Audi Skybox for Cowiebhoy and family today, so if any of the Prawn sandwich Bhoys pass by, say hail hail.

  19. Great news for Neil Lennon, just think about what that man has had to go through.

     

    I’ll bet the MSM are searching for their “Lennon scowling” photo files to publish alongside the report.

  20. All set to take a soaking and watch the Bhoys win three points. Charging up the phone for the second half light show. :-) (Hope it`s not the black socks.)