In the months afterwards I made a trip to the Celtic Superstore to buy the DVD of the match. I wasn’t ready to watch it but needed to have it nonetheless, for when the time came. I’ve still not opened the box.
I watched the game from high up in the Porto end. The Porto fans were great, allowed us to celebrate with all the enthusiasm you could muster for goals in a European final, then wished us well as we made our way through them and out of the stadium. Had Celtic won while dropping like flies whenever an opponent coughed, it might have been different.
Porto were favourites and would go on to prove how good a team they were by winning the Champions League 12 months later. Their players would demonstrate their prowess across the world for the next decade. They had fabulous talent, so much so, that they should have aspired to better than the gamesmanship used during their run to the Uefa Cup and Champions League wins.
On the field it was a tale of great goals and heroic defeat, off the field, it was one of the most spectacular events in sport.
80,000 Celtic fans made the pilgrimage to Seville and treated the world to a carnival. The city became the scene of one of the largest parties the game had ever known. For me the pre-match schedule involved a two hour trip north before a panicked dash across the city collecting match tickets. What a stress!
There was 10 in our party and collecting the tickets took priority. Once we had them we could afford time to eat, but what? Several restaurants were sold out, we eventually found a café with frozen chips and a meat-based slab of something or other. No choices. No beer, wine or cola either, it was diluting orange juice or water. An entire city was pretty much emptied of food and drink.
You could forget about motorised transport to get to the game, we had to walk from the city to the stadium on the very outskirts of town. It was hot and dry. An enterprising local was selling a retained stash of cola at the side of the road at a hugely inflated price, no one passed him without buying.
This was a journey to a football game, but not one any of us were familiar with.
The long walk home from the game was memorable for the incredible reaction we got from the locals. They applauded each of us as we walked past their homes in recognition of what took place in their city throughout the day. Things like this don’t happen but that day was different. Seville, like Lisbon, will always remember Celtic. Fifa and Uefa made their Fair Play Awards the following year to Celtic fans, a nomination normally reserved for clubs.
I met a German couple in the hotel elevator. “Are you disappointed?” they asked. “No. We were beaten by a good team”. I had celebrated two Celtic goals in a European final and watched as we pushed a tremendously talented team to the brink. Disappointment comes a lot worse than this, although time brought regret.
Seville 2003 was not Lisbion 67 but it was a wonderful occasion in our very proud history. Let’s do it again.
For those who prefer their nostalgia with a bit of silverware, 10 men won the league, 24 years ago today. Big Billy was back and the Celts were in control.
Speaking of Lisbon 67…… Willie’s book, pre-order your signed copy now!
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All these Seville recollections are giving me Lisbonitis.
Never made Lisbon & wished I had.
Watched it on the black & white telly at home on my own,
Can’t even remember if I dogged school or we had the day/ afternoon off.
(word you can’t probably us for that anymore)
Never made Seville & wished I had.
Watched in Milwaukee with elder son & both our wives.
Every one of your stories – and I wish I’d been there.
Great stuff.
HH
10 years on, Celtic are back making a splash in Europe again, and looking forward to a new European campaign, in the senior club competition in World football.
The Horribles, who somehow managed to win the domestic treble that year, have been liquidated once; and who knows? Probably twice, D.V. They look forward with some trepidation to the Ramsdens Cup.
Martin O’Neill and , perhaps less surprisingly, Alec McLeish have been sacked from their most recent posts.
10 years is a short time in football.
We couldn’t find a bar opened so just walked until we found the station then crashed out there.
I don’t have the skills to evoke the memories of Seville in words. I have them in my head and in photos.
However I can recant the tale of how I got a ticket for the final. Two days before the game I got a call from the fine gentlemen who sat beside me for years in the North Stand. His son worked / lived in Spain and had bought tickets for their entire family, comprising sons, wives, girlfriends as well as his own wife. The tickets weren’t all together but they had them. And he had been effusive in his delight when telling me this at the last home game.
Sadly, while they were in Spain as a pre-final holiday, his wife received news that her mother had died and therefore she had to return home.
He called me from Spain and said if I could get transport over there, I could have the ticket.
Whilst money was tight for me at that time, my wife was first to get on the phone and seek out travel. I was again lucky in that the travel company had just put on ANOTHER flight out of Prestwick. I got a seat on that leaving early in the morning and flying home directly after the game.
I had already given my Celtic top (the yellow one) to a colleague who was going to Seville without a ticket just to savour the occasion.
So a quick scoot over to the Celtic Superstore was required to purchase the Hoops. I have never worn a Celtic top other than when playing 5s. A throwback to being attacked when walking through Bridgeton Cross after an evening game in the 70s.
But there I was before dawn at Pestwick. Celtic top, shorts, socks and trainers. The form I was in at 5s must surely get me a place on the bench I thought.
In Seville I happened upon my work colleague; what are the chances of that. I saw the spectacle of a water fountain adorned by Celtic fans. Remember fondly greeting the guys form Oz with their boxing kangaroo, in Celtic colours of course.
The singing, the heat, the noise, the jubilation, the disappointment, the pride. And then more singing and pride.
Like you Paul, I have never been able to watch the game. Some day I probably will. Might even spot myself in the crowd.
To Alex whose family tragedy became my good fortune, thank you will never be enough.
tallybhoy- Tony Watt in the Scotland squad? Must be his punishment for being a naughty Bhoy.
Looking at the brodcast payments to EPL clubs for 12-13.
QPR, Wigan + Reading all picked up £40m for getting relegated.
SOAL-VG :)
If my memory serves me right there were two turnstiles to go through. There were also a helluvalot of forged tickets on the go. These tickets seemed to get you through the first turnstile, but, alas, not the second. Seen many fans, resplendant in replica tops being chased by security through the concourse. Other Celtic fans were side stepping any fugitive Celtic fans then inadvertantly bending down to tie shoelaces etc as security tried to get past. saw a few poor ghuys getting thrown out but at least they were released as soon as they were outside.
I had a seat next to a gangway….just in line with the back post theat Henke scored at. A ghuy sitting nervously opposite me stood up about 2 mins before kick off. He turned 360o to take in the full spectacle of Celtic fans taking up most of the stadium. He knelt down on the stairs facing the fans…..blessed himself and said a few prayers….then walked out never to be seen again…..nerves must have got the better of him and he couldn’t watch the game.
WG
Who did you support for the first 4 years?
Love
Agreed Paul, Porto were a very talented team, but in Henrik we had the best player on the park that day.
I like others have still to watch the match
Arthur –
Didny attend any matches till 1967 but I had no choice but to support Celtic
EmbryoCSC, ML11Smillie
So many memories of Seville.
The drive from Benalmadena to Seville will live with me forever. We had managed to get a guy from a boozer in the town to drive us to Seville the night before the game. 4 of us in the van plus the driver. The guy was a scouser and seemed to be well known to the locals who thought we were mental to agree to go with him. A great night was had in the 24 hour square with a guy in a kilt and hoops playing Celltic songs on bagpipes and making what must have been a small fortune in the process.
Back to the hotel at what time I have no idea. Woke up in a panic. We had slept in. ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
The biggest game of our lives and we had managed to sleep through the alarm. Checked the phone and the scouser had been in touch. As good as his word he was oustide in the most clapped out van I had ever seen. He had a matress in the back and I took my seat in the front as group leader and co pilot as none of the other lads had a driving licence. We had to stop every 20 miles to put water in this thing. Turns out the guy was a handy man and all round decent bloke but did admit to getting involved in things he shouldn’t but he appeared to have kids all over the place and wanted to give them what they wanted. Fair play to him. He took us to Seville and will always have a special place in my heart. Every car and bus that passed us had green and white in it. It was like driving along the M8 to a cup final. I have never whitnessed anything like it. I had thought that everyone was coming in via Malaga. That road was a scene of green and white and every garage/bar/restaurant was too on the road to Seville. It was mind blowing.
When we reached the city the traffic began grinding to a halt. It was obvious that the city was gridlocked. The surroundings reminded me of the gas tank in Glasgow. Slightly industrial. We then moved at a snails pace and although we were now buzzing and eager to exit the van our driver assured us we were still far from the promised land.
As we shuffled along a bit we seemed to reach a street full of schools. There were schools along both sides of a dual carriageway and the kids were all out waiting on their buses to take them home. There were hundreds of them. They were all chanting Celtique, Celtique, Celtique. There were guys exiting their vehicles to give these kids scarves and jerseys and flags. By the time the traffic shuffled along the kids had more Celtic stuff than we did! Something I will always cherish was that memory. We had taken over.
The city itself was a mass of green and white. I’m not quite sure what the Porto fans must have thought when they arrived. They must have felt like the away fan at a game in Glasgow.
We spent more time looking for mates, aquaintances and work mates than we did enjoying the city to be honest. We managed to hook up with quite a few old friends and then settled in a nice wee bar near the river. Drank many beers and sung a few songs before making our way on foot to the stadium. met my old man oustide the ground who was in the full Celtic kit. I was just slagging off this guy to my mate saying look at that old bloke there in the full kit he looks like a subutteo man. Turned out it was my dad and we hugged and shed a tear. We were altogether as most of the guys from our CSC had met him and heading to a European final. Our CSC was 5 years old. We had our flag and we were ready to watch our team lift the cup. negotiated the security checks and got into the stadium perimeter. They had a Soccer AM type put the ball through a hole or hit a target. Everyone had a go and we all did it and won some throw away radio that most of us probably lost before we made it home. Through the turnstile and up the mountain of stairs en route to our seats that were in the very back row of the upper tier. I will never forget walking up the stairs to of the wee tunnel to enter the arena for the first time. I was met with a sea of green and white that covered two thirds of the ground and there was a small pocket of blue and white at the right of me. I am not ashamed to say I wept and had to be helped to my seat. That is mmy proudest moment as a Cetic supporter. It was the most amazing sight I have ever seen in football. I’m not sure it will ever be beaten with the ticketing arrangements there days. I was glad to be there. I felt lucky to be there. I felt priveleged to be there.
I just wanted to see a goal…..
LB
I will never watch the Porto or Feyenoord matches again
Seville?
Nah, no for me….
Thorn inn Johnstone, greetin like a wean oan ma knees @ full time….
That wis the place tae be :-(
Johnny Doyle RIP
One fo my favorite Celts when I was growing up
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozdoYlIjy40
HH
/Bishop B
WEE OSCAR 4 LIFE getting a nice wee mention in this article.
Well done to Lisa for ensuring our wee hero got a mention,and well done to all involved in WO4L
http://www.thescottishsun.co.uk/scotsol/homepage/missscotland/4934857/Kris-Commons-partner-Lisa-Hague-on-being-a-WAG.html
“I have never watched that match”
Henrik Larsson
How CQN and Seville nostalgia saved me £851.95.
I couldn’t sleep last night, not uncommon these days. I had been reading CQN and thinking about Seville and trying to remember the name of the hotel and the Irish bar across from the Cathedral. I had my photograph taken outside the pub, which was called Flaherty’s, with my mate and Godfather to my youngest son. We had travelled separately, he from Scotland via Portugal, where he was based, and me from Germany.
Now where does this £851.95 come in I hear you ask, or maybe not for that matter?
Well I was convinced I had stayed at Pension Los Angeles, pretty sure now, and I thought to myself, at about 2am, I probably paid using my American Express card. I knew that they held copies of my statements but, unfortunately, they only go back 7 years. Whilst doing this I noticed a debit for £851.95 to Whittards of Chelsea who sell tea etc. Well I am very partial to a cup of the old Rosie Lea but I’m not that keen on it. I had never heard of Whittards of Chelsea until I googled them at about 2.15am. It appears my card has been hacked and somebody bought a very expensive coffee machine with my card details.
If it hadn’t been for CQN and the Seville nostalgia I would have been unaware of this until my bank account had been debited. So a big thank you to CQN and all you Seville nostalgia posters.
Hail! Hail! PMTYH
After the cup final I will be exchanging the ‘Glasgow Thunder’ for the Chicago Fire for a 6 week pre CL qualifier break (even the fans need one too!), so if any CQNers are in the area or have contacts for a pint and some CFC banter please let me know.
Can’t see me lasting 6 weeks without discussing “The Chronicles of Sevconia” with like minded fholk (my buddy over there is a US bluenose catholic!! Go figure!!)
On for the double this weekend as the perfect send off ….. HH
Seville…..sighhhhh…..
Wonderful wonderful experience, sadly it was my Dad’s last game and that is my abiding memory of Seville. Of spending the day in a wee square in the city, a couple of beers, nothing too heavy – for once I wanted to remember and enjoy the experience of the game, despite being very nervous.
The chaos trying to get into the stadium, the odd fan breaking through and making a run for the steps into arena, but always seemingly caught agonisingly close to their goal.
The intense heat in the stadium, wearing denims as my only lair of shorts brought with me were unwearable following being thrown into the pool earlier in the day, my Dad using the match programme to fan me, when he was struggling to cope with the heat.
The joy, the love, the heartache, the pride…..no regrets, they’d given their all, defeated by a team who I couldn’t watch if they won matches playing in that way. Across Europe that night, every neutral that watched that game wanted Celtic to win, we as a family did win, we just didn’t bring back the cup.
On return to our hotel, which we shared with the riot police, there was an entirely different attitude from them, one of respect and friendship rather than suspicion and guarded, shaking hands and being commiserated by some of the nastiest men in Spain demonstrated some of what the Celtic family had achieved.
A party was started by my brother on return, with the rPod (RebelPod) connected to the hotel sound system, what a night!!!!
A magnificent experience I will never forget, my last holiday with Joe, my last game with Joe, before he left us all to early at 55 years old. He brought my brothers and myself up in Celtic, let us understand through his example what Celtic was about, it wasn’t just football, it was more than that.
Poignant day, thinking of very happy and very sad times, as I now type through glazed eyes…..
hh
bjmac
Never been so emotionally drained as the day after that game.
I will also never forget the bus journey back into Portugal where we were staying.
I have the CD of the game, why do I have it? I havent a clue, BUT I have never watched it, I prob. havent watched it because of the great times and laughs we had that week lump in my throat as I type this, the CD will be staying where it is, as for the result Porto just edged it but the time wasting and diving left a bad taste in my mouth.
Pogmathonyahun aka Laird of the Smiles
10:27 on
21 May, 2013
So you literally woke up and smelled the coffee!!!
Mine’s a Guinness
In quieter times
BT
Goofy bhoy
Indeed no wonder I am always skint.
SOAL
Good idea.
Celtic first
She is indeed a very honest woman.
doctor whatfor
Have passed the tape to Spivco as an example of high moral
Standards.
WG
I was just making sure you were 50
Love
HH
Seville memories…
The sorrowful ones first…
Screaming at Bobo for diving in to a challenge-as they d been diving all day.
Screaming at Rab for not catching the ball better.
Smacking my wrist hard on the ground when they scored their third!
The glorious ones
Rushing home from work to sit as a family, 3 generations, in my house to watch game.
The joy at Henriks goals
The joy at our immense support.
The joy at being a Celtic supporter..
The joy at MON signing my Seville Celtic book..
HH
I was promised 3 tickets and was let down (badly by an ex mate) on the weekend before the game.
I was then faced with a decision to go alone with 1 ticket or to watch the game with my 2 sons who now did not have tickets – the boys were in their early teens.
In the end I did not want to go through my life having not shared it with the boys. I wanted to be able to talk to the boys about Seville like my Dad and I still talk about watching the Lions on a Black and White TV.
So I gave away my ticket to a very happy mate cancelled the flights (as I did not want other Celtic fans not to get and there be empty seats on a plane) and stayed at home. We had a BBQ in the light rain, painted the faces of the kids in the street. My oldest had his first beer and decided that for me Seville was a family experience.
Two days before the game my mate from Porto called and asked me where we meeting for dinner – I told him the story and he immediately offered me 3 tickets for the Porto end – cue a mad scramble for flights but none were available.
At the start of extra time I got a text from a rangers fan saying that only one team was going to win it and it was not Porto.
When we lost my youngest son was crying and at that moment I knew I was right to share it with him – I told him not to cry but to be proud of the team and of the future he had as a Celtic fan. He is now a fanatic.
To this day I do not regret sharing the game with my sons. I even selected Seville67 as my CQN name to show no regrets.
Seville67
After all good ticket sources were drying up by the day,the elation of Boavista was being drowned by despair.The biggest Celtic game in my lifetime and i (along with thousands) didn’t have a ticket,until a flash of inspiration.I knew ex Scotland Manager Andy Roxburgh worked for UEFA in Switzerland so i tracked down the address and cobbled a letter together.I enclosed the wee CL Wallet we got that year,along with SB insert and a blank cheque and sent it registered post.I got a reply about 4 days later (which i still have).I seen the word “unfortunately” in the first paragraph..I threw the letter on the floor ,took a wee walk to the shop ,facing the reality that i wouldn’t be at the game.After a couple of hours i thought it it was very decent of the guy to reply to me, so the least i could do was read the letter.It said “unfortunately” he couldn’t attend the game as he had a coaching seminar booked that week.He said i could have his 2 tickets free on 2 conditions 1) Don’t sell them on and 2) Don’t tell anyone he had more tickets,as he didn’t. He gave me his PA’s number and told me to phone her.The tickets were mine.I have never met Andy Roxburgh to this day.
Henrik Larsson scored the perfect strikers goal that day.
One chance, one defender to shake free, one leap, one touch, just one spot where he could possibly put the ball out of the keeper’s reach, one movement to achieve all of that– and one goal.
Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
paulsatim is neil lennon
10:38 on 21 May, 2013
Pogmathonyahun aka Laird of the Smiles
10:27 on
21 May, 2013
So you literally woke up and smelled the coffee!!!
——————————————————————–
Sure did, praise The Lord. Apparently bought by somebody calling themselves Robin Standring. More like Robbin Bas***d!
Aye, let’s hope the lying, fraudulent, debt dodging Spivs get on an even keel…
“All the uncertainty and kind of
turmoil that is going on at the club is
a cause of concern,” the SFA chief
stated. “You have to feel for the fans,
given what they’ve had to endure for
the last 18 months or so.
“They thought they had a new dawn
with Messrs Green and Ahmad
coming in and it has turned sour on
them again.
“We’re all hoping the board can get it
sorted out and get them back on an
even keel again.”
We arrived in Seville on the morning of the game in a convoy of coaches that had travelled overnight from Benidorm. Went to meet a guy from Clydebank at his hotel who was selling us 4 tickets for the game at a small fortune. He never turned up so no tickets. We went to the square for the big screens could not see the pitch properly as the sun shone through screens. Headed back to a pub and watch the game there.
Met so many people that I knew and guys I had not seen since school, priests that I knew from way back.
After the match finished we headed over to train station to meet up with the rest of the guys from our bus. Bus left at 3 am to take us back to Benidorm. On flight from Alicante to Heathrow we got in tow with a crowd of Bhoys from Cork. Pretty sure we drank the plane dry and sang the whole way home.
My abiding memory of Seville is one of a great feeling of family. The Celtic family at its very best.
Although there were 12 in our party I was there with my 15 year old son and my best mate.
Sadly my best mate passed 4 days before thems went into administration, so I will never forget my trip to Seville. Hail Hail Tam.
KTF
HH
Morning all
I had my say with Seville memories on Sunday though I forgot to finish by saying that it was, by a mile, my greatest experience as a Celtic fan. The significance of it to me would hit anybody who visits my flat – a large picture of the support that night and a smaller one of the six of us who went ( and who’d gone through the darker days not long before) standing outside a bar in Seville.
And the 4-2 was the best match I’ve ever seen at CP – ahead of Barca this season and Juve in 2001. Fantastic night – one I thought I was imagining.
Jimbo
Livibhoy-BJ mac-great stuff.
bjmac
10:31 on 21 May, 2013
Great post. How am I supposed to drive with tears in my eyes.
Memories of seville.
I had just changed jobs before the semi final. A few good tims in the new workplace so was happy. Sensibly too the day off after the game…or so I thought. By the time I went back to work everyone had booked up and I couldnt get a flight or ticket for love nor money. Ah well…I will just watch it on t.v. I thought.
But as the days went on I knew I had to get to seville. Everyone I knew was going. This was my generation’s Lisbon and I had to be part of it.
I started looking for flights again and contacting friends and former work colleagues to source accommodation and a ticket. I was going to have to travel alone as everyone else was already booked up. I eventually managed to book an flight from Glasgow to east midlands on the Tuesday evening and an early morning flight to Malaga. I couldn’t get a hotel room in either east midlands or Seville. Also no hire cars left from Malaga.
On the plus side I got a call from a fellow cqn’r the day before the game….he had got me a ticket. All i needed to do was phone him on my arrival in spain. On a high I headed off to Glasgow airport wearing a sombrero and my hoops with pride. The flight to east Midlands was pretty empty except for about another 30-40 celtic fans and some bemused looking businessmen and flight crew. We sang and drunk merrily on the short flight. Made some friends on that flight. Dumbarton csc.
We sat in the bar til closing time. No-one had a hotel for the night, we brought all the beer we could from the bar before it closed and drank through the night.
Got on the flight to Malaga and nded up sitting next to a big irishman. First thing he asks is…do you have transport to Seville? Nope…..good he says. I’ve got a car but need someone to navigate and share the cost. A mother and 12 year old son also joined our crew.
Picked up car in Seville and I then began to wonder how I was going to navigate our driver to Seville considering the amount of beer I had consumed. I needn’t have worried. We joined the Celtic Convoy and followed it on the 2 1/2 hour drive waving to fellow supporters and spotting people we knew on coaches and in other cars.
All the way there I am trying to phone kev to arrange pick up of my match ticket. But as everyone knows, telephone networks were in meltdown. Couldnt get a hold of him. Every call and text was just bounced back.
Arrived in Seville and we all went our separate ways. The next 12 hours or so was a joy…celtic fans everywhere and everyone was so happy. Met loads of people I knew…but still couldn’t get hold of kev.
I made my way to the stadium…it began to sink in that I was not going to get to the game. Not far fom the stadium I bumped into some bhoys from my new job and tagged along. Soon our numbers had swollen to a couple of hundred and none of them had tickets either and we knew that the big screen was already full and we were too near the sfadium now to make it back anyway. We needed to find somewhere to watch the game. Everywhere in the outskirts was closed. However a local bar owner appeared. Like the pied piper he led us to his establishment and led us in. €3 a drink in a plastic pint tumbler..no matter what you were drinking. We looked around for the big screen tv….none. there was a tv mounted in a corned and as we got iur first drink the teams cam out onto the pitch. As the camera panned round we couldn’t believe the amiunt kf fans in the stadium. The atmosphere in the pub was electric and I will never forget the fact that a few hundred fans travelling all that way to watch the game in a pub on a 32″ tv.
After the highs and eventual lows of the game we headed back to the centre for food. No one was despondent. We were proud of our team and our fellow supporters.
Shortly after midnight I realised I had nowhere to sleep and no means of getting back to malaga for my flight home. I spent the night in a hotel on the floor of a work colleague’s room who was travelling with his partick thistle supporting pal who wore his strip with pride too.
In the morning I got a voice mail from kev…he had been trying to call me too. My ticket went to a good home. I managed to get a lift to malaga from the bhoys in work and made my way home. Tired but not sad.
I remember those 2 days as if it was yesterday and have never experienced anything quite like it. I dream it will happen again soon and this time I can take my 2 bhoys so they can share a truly special occasion they will remember for he rest of their lives.