What a fucking night that was. Absolutely unforgettable. Iāve been walking around Glasgow for the past couple of hours with a brute of a hangover but it doesnāt bother me in the slightest. Walking around in the rain Iāve seen a few guys like me, mostly Irish guys waiting for a flight or a train or a ferry or a bus. They look badly hungover, some of them have a hint of a Celtic scarf under their jackets, one or two have a plastic bag from the Celtic shop, some have no obvious Celtic paraphenalia on at all. But you can tell who they are because theyāre grinning from ear to ear. They look destroyed, theyāre wet, theyāre tired, theyāre hungover, but theyāre delighted. And thatās how I am at the moment. Iām more emotional than my words on a webpage can ever properly convey.
Yesterday was just sensaional. Spent the most part of the day kicking about town waiting for Colin, a mate of mine living in Germany, and his da to get to Glasgow. I was slowly building excitement through the day with reading papers and internet sites but I didnāt think Iād have trouble getting motivated for this game and I neednāt have worried. Colin got to Glasgow at 4 and we had a coulpe of pints in Osmosis before heading down to the Gallowgate to start the buildup in earnest.
Into Bairdās where we had an enjoyable three or four Guinness and the obligatory vodka and irn bru. They were showing the Old Firm whitewash DVD on the screen and I started geting nostalgic for OāNeillās team and his big game players like Sutton, Thompson and of course Henke. That said I was thinking to myself how thrilled I am with Strachan. I donāt think weāve been playing well over the last month or so and I wasnāt expecting to win last night but I do love the thought and rationale behind our tactics since Gordon has stamped his mark on the team.
There was a couple of United fans in Bairdās - decent lads who had no tickets but were up to sample the atmosphere anyway. Small bit of banter with them but for the most part I wasnāt even really talking to Colin. Just savouring the anticipation of a big game ahead and hoping for a positive outcome.
Began the half hour walk down to the ground at half six or so. Atmosphere was really starting to build at this stage with the crows streaming down and a guy behind us got a phone call with the team. Not too surprised as Iād heard it from thepiedpiper earlier - what an exclusive that was. Still I canāt say I was that happy. Like Bandage and Pagey I wondered at the wisdom of playing a more narrow system though thepiedpiper eased my worries somewhat with his justificiation of 2 players breaking forward, with 2 holding. It made sense, especially with the roles Giggs and Rooney play for United, so I was coming round to it a bit more as the journey progressed.
Made our way to the ground where we met Colinās da - a Scottish guy originally, living in Ireland for 35 years or so - and walked through a muddy field around to the Lisbon Lions stand - the air of abdandoment about the surrounding area of Celtic Park never ceases to amaze me. With the electronic turnstyle system we were queuing for a while to get in so missed the Saw Doctors. Up the steps to our separate steps for half seven though and just at my seat when Youāll Never Walk Alone started on the PA system. Iāve witnessed a few in my time and the rendition of the anthem last night was truly special. At the time I was thinking it was unlike any Iād been part of before. Such determined pride in the singing and the whole stadium was involved. There were a couple of jeers from the United section at the start but by the time the chorus kicked in they were completely drowned out. Indeed, I saw one or two taking photos of the spectacle.
Then on the big screen you could see the players in the tunnel. The stadium errupted. A huge wall of noise of shouting and screaming and the champions league theme music kicked in. Everybody in the stadium roared their heads off. Slapping, thumping, clapping, stamping, hands, feet, chests, seats, whatever made the most noise. I was jumping up and down thumping my chest and roaring my head off. Loving it. This was the big time.
There was an excellent card/streamer type display at the far end in the Jock Stein stand and it looked excellent. Iāve seen some amateur enough efforts in the past but that looked awesome last night. The singing was great at this stage, the huddle was formed and I was hoarse already. Shouting as loud as I could but I was barely audible.
Kick off and we were poor. Our passing really let us down first half. Balde played like he hadnāt played in months, which he hadnāt but he sometimes plays like that anyway. We struggled to get Sno and Lennon on the ball and when we did the passes were backwards. Strachan was in the papers today (I bought 7 of 'em) talking about needing to pass the ball 2 or 3 yards forward instead of square and heās right. It turns them and thatās when you cause damage. Anyway we didnāt really get going and Magic and big Jan were seeing none of it up front but were still running their socks off anyway.
That said we were comfortable defensively. They got one chance for Ronaldo when Balde gave the ball away but they didnāt create anything. The system we have defensively is excellent - not a home goal conceded in the Champions League this season. The communication between wingers and full backs and between the centre halves and the midfielders is superb. Rooney, Ronaldo, Giggs, Scholes were all playing roles where itās supposed to be difficult to mark. They couldnāt get on the ball in any advanced areas though. We were shutting them down all over the park with clever running and great communication.
Half time and I was apprehensive. We hadnāt played well. I texted bandage and thepiedpiper and suggested we needed to introduce a winger or Kenny Miller soon in the second half. They were inclined to agree. The toilets downstairs were like an independent republic of rebellion with banned songs and banned cigarettes being enjoyed by such a volume of people the stewards or cops couldnāt intervene.
Back upstairs for the second half and Youāll Never Walk Alone again. I was sitting in the wrong seat this time, no idea how it happened but I couldnāt figure out where my seat was but not to worry. Teams re-emerged and the two changes were announced. As an aside I recall Tranmere Rovers being 3 down at half time to Southampton in the cup (perhaps managed by Strachan?). They made 3 changes at the break I think and switched from 4-4-2 to 3-4-3 or something and went on to win 4-3. Aldridge was asked afterwards if making 3 changes at the break was a risk. He said at the time he was tempted to change things after 40 minutes but he felt that would give Southampton too much time to react. Southamptonās half time talk would have expected a change presumably but they wouldnāt have known who or what system. They could only give instructions based on what the first half was like and the subs had an immediate impact. It was the same scenario last night. Ferguson would have expected changes at some stage but not immediately. His team talk would have been geared towards more of the same, but then he finds out theyāre up against something different. It was clever management and brave management and correct management from Gordon.
Second half kicks off and thereās an immediate positive impact. United adjusted accordingly after a while and the game settled down again but at that stage there was a confidence and fluidity about the passing that was missing in the first half. We were better on the ball and just as good without it.
My expectations grew throughout the half but Iād no immediate sense of an imminent goal. There was an Irish guy to my right who was convinced theyād score every time they got the ball and he could hardly watch it. Older Scottish guy to my left was more confident. I have a theory that in every game of football both sides get at least one chance to alter the result (not just the scoreline, but the outcome) and I didnāt think we had that yet so I was waiting for a chance. Then a stray pass and Telfer pounced. First half he might have blasted the ball into the stand but this time he retains possession for us. We have them turned again which is crucial to winning football matches. Softish foul on Jarosik at first glance though watching hazy replays of it in a hazy bar last night my hazy eyesight suggested there was a stray hand involved. Anyway it mattered not, this was our chance.
At the time I didnāt realise how far out the ball was. I wanted Naka to take it obviously but for a split second I had sacreligious thoughts that it might be clever to give wee Shaun a crack as Van der Saar would surely know where Naka wanted to put it. I thought better of it though but I guess it wasnāt my decision. Anyway the whole stadium stood up for the free kick and Naka stepped up and hit it very fucking sweetly altogether.
The selfishness of the United wall in jumping (a notable change from Old Trafford) meant I couldnāt be sure the ball had gone in because they were in my line of vision. But when I saw Naka wheeling away with the green and white hoops grasped tightly in his hand and the stadium beginning to bounce I knew weād scored. Absolutely intensely emotional moment. I turned and hugged everyone around me first individually then as a group. Irishmen, Scotsmen and a Scottish lady in there. I was delirious. I cannot possibly describe how much it meant to me. I was genuinely ecstatic and overcome, staring at the pitch in disbelief. What a fucking strike. Some of these descriptions may sound like cliches or that theyāve been bundled together from a thesauras but Iāve never experienced anything like that before. Awesome.
Then I had to endure a horrible last ten minutes. My theory told me theyād have a chance to alter the result and they certainly did. Before then I felt we were comfortable but I was anything but. The guy on my right was positively annoying at that stage but Iāll forgive him. It was nervy enough without him screaming at us to defend deeper. I think if youād have offered him the draw at that stage heād have taken it. Older lad to my left produced a big handsome watch that heād timed for the start of the second half. We studied that thing like two guys from the stone age staring at a television screen. Willing the second hand to move on.
Then they get a free kick - again it looked soft enough. We have our wall setup and Iām confident enough. Struck reasonably and from my angle Iām not sure if itās been deflected out for a corner or not. So I look at the referee. Iām in despair. The Celtic players are crowded around him so I know heās given the corner. Another chance for them. Then the yellow card for Maloney and more protesting and slowly, this growing doubt dawns on me. Unbelievable. I realise it before the people around me do and Iām heartbroken and it feels like telling them someone has died when I have to break the news. Itās a penalty. Theyāre shocked. Weāre all shocked. The United fans donāt celebrate because they all realise individually. Lyon. Juventus. Man United. History repeating itself. Again.
Saha has the ball on the spot and the referee walks round telling everyone to keep out of the box. Lennon trots over to the ball and boot it into the main stand. Booked. I hate soft yellow cards but in retrospect that was a cracker. At the time I wasnāt thrilled but I didnāt disagree with it either. I was in fully empathy with him. Referee back to the edge of the box instructing everyone again. I focus my attention on Boruc. Saha is standing there waiting for the whistle trying to block out the commotion. Boruc is the polar opposite. Heās concentrating intensely, bouncing up and down and he looks like heās looking forward to it. My confidence grows but Iām not truly hopeful. I just want them to get it over and done with. Itās like witnessing an execution and weāre all relatives of the dying man and Iāve just had to explain to his da and his brother that heās about to get shot. Saha approaches the ball and puts it same side as Old Trafford.
I observed the following last night: When a goal is scored at a game the whole place celebrates and itās wonderful but the game stops. So everyone turns around and hugs everyone around them and the stadium is manic mayhem when itās a big game or an important goal like last night. You celebrate collectively but youāre witnessing indivual celebrations and hearing the mass of people roar. When a penalty is saved and the ball stays in play you canāt turn away from the action. So you make the same noise as a goal being scored and jump up and down just the same but you all stay facing the pitch. So you see 57,000 people all celebrating collectively and itās a fucking wonderful sight. The stadium was positively bouncing. The most thrilling moment of my life.
The game continues and Iām a touch more confident. My theory has been fulfilled so theyāve had their chances. Saha had that glorious chance before the penalty but the whole moment was so bizarre that it passed everyone by, including himself. Now theyāve Rio up front and theyāre hitting long balls up to him and Iām delighted with that but I canāt enjoy anything yet. I have this nagging notion that itās too good to be true. Heās given one penalty, he can give another. The pessimist beside me is convinced the referee was bribed. āHeāll give them a goal definitely. We should be appealing this.ā Heās already thinking about how to complain about the draw. Iām just thinking about the times when being a Celtic fan rips the heart out of you. The fleeting flirtations with greatness that occur from time to time. Instances of brilliance that hint at how great life at the top is, but theyāre always taken away immediately. The goals in Seville, the games in Turin, Lyon, Manchester, Milan, home to Valencia. We get these little reminders of how good football can be to tempt us into going again next time. Thatās the equation of Celtic. Go and enjoy it for a few moments but make sure Celtic lose so theyāll have to come back. Itās horrible.
But they keep playing long balls up to our centre halves and Iām loving it and our defenders are loving it. Bobo and McManus take turns winning clean headers and Lennon hooks it forward for Miller to chase. The full backs are doing well in the air and they donāt change their style at all. We could head the ball away all night but Iād rather we didnāt have to. The old guy to my left starts counting out the minutes and seconds for everyone around. āOne to go plus extra.ā ā30 seconds.ā āThatās it now, just the added.ā 3 minutes added and Iām happy with that. ā20 seconds over.ā āHalf a minute.ā āThatās a full minute gone, 2 to go.ā He keeps at it and heās relishing every announcement. Now Iām starting to enjoy it again. I donāt feel threatened anymore and I join in more of the songs but break away to cheer every head we get to the ball.
The time creeps on and I know we have it won. Someone wins a header and Lennon I think hooks it forward to big Jan. And itās over. The stadium canāt resist an āEasy, easyā chant and much as I hate it to me itās the sweetest song ever sung for a few seconds. And then begins the Youāll Never Walk Alone which is truly breathtaking. I didnāt see a single person leave their seat as the song is belted out and we all join in. The old guy beside me has no scarf so he holds the end of mine and we sing it with an immense feeling of pride and absolute elation. It surpasses the anthem from the start of the game and unifies the stadium into one single emotion. Itās times like that when I realise how fucking lucky I am to have this relationship with Celtic. Times like that are unforgettable.
To paraphrase a BBC commentator from a few years ago: āScarves, Banners, Jerseys, Green and White hoops raised in triumph. It may not have been a vintage match but to these Celtic supporters it will taste every bit as sweet as any they have ever witnessed. So let us pause for a while and listen to the Celtic fans as they sing their beloved anthemā¦ā
As Bandge says: āYouāll never, ever, walk alone.ā
