SENTINELCELTS

Morning,all.

Today sees our champions take on old foes in the shape of Rapid Vienna,and no Celtic supporters needs reminded of events in 1984-85. So with me being a sadistic and twisted sod,I’ll do just that-with the added bonus of trashing my Dad’s reputation while I’m at it!

He just laughed,btw,when I mentioned it to him. Fuxake,you’ve still not let me forget that?

Back then,my Dad was working a three-shift pattern,which meant that he could only see The Hooooops about half of the time. And as a married man,that was further reduced by the demands of that role. So he would pick his games to attend-earning himself the unlikely-and untrue-reputation as a big game supporter. He soon put straight the person who made this crass allegation,I should add.

As a bit of background,he was a founder member of Ardrossan Garryowen CSC,formed in the late sixties. Hunterston power plant was under construction,and a lot of the lads had to work on a Saturday morning,and they asked Saltcoats Star of the Sea,the club where they were members,to run the bus with an initial starting point of the site. They refused,and The Garryowen was formed.

But by the time the Rapid Vienna game came round,none of us were members anymore. I travelled by train,usually meeting SOLKITTS who was living in Edinburgh at the time. Discovering the joys of a proper pizza,amongst other things. My Dad would usually travel by car along with my Uncle Jim when he was home. Sometimes I would scrounge a lift and lead them astray…

We were 3-1 down from the away leg in Vienna,so no easy task to overcome. But far from impossible. And with the team that we had,for me the best since the early seventies,anything could happen. We could be lethal up front-but suicidal at the back! Goals from Brian McClair and Murdo McLeod put us in front,but Tommy Burns would soon become the unwitting star of the show. First,he scored our third-a goal which stood despite Rapid protests about an imagined foul on the keeper.

We were in raptures by then. This was as good a night as any we had seen!

But Tommy was a marked man. A cowardly punch from behind from the Rapid captain was missed by the ref but spotted by the linesman. Player off-but no penalty given! WTF? Shortly after that,Tommy chased a long ball,which was the keeper’s all the way. As he gathered it up,he booted Tommy straight in the baws!

While there should have been  no doubt about the penalty this time,the referee and linesman still conferred. For far too long,allowing the Rapid protests to worsen. Worse than Atletico or Racing Club? Maybe,and their conduct on the night should have seen them banned from Europe. Instead,having claimed that one of their players was hit by a bottle,they succeeded in getting the result overturned,with the instruction that it be played at least 150 miles from Glasgow.

Of course,all this was in the future. That night,we went home very happy indeed. Especially my Dad,who,thanks to picking his games rather unwisely,was getting a name as a bliddy jinx!

Well,fast forward a couple of weeks. SOLKITTS and another friend from Edinburgh pick us up for the trip to Old Trafford. Never been before-or since. As England still lived in The Dark Ages,what with pubs closing at 3pm till 5pm,we decided we had better get a good cargo on board before we crossed the border. Picking us up early in Dalry,we stopped in Cumnock and Annan,as well as a wee village in Dumfriesshire. The Farmers Arms in Thornhill. I’ve never seen so many whiskies on the gantry. It was like The Bodleian Library of whisky!

And so,on to England-along with about 40,000 other travelling fans. In truth,we hadn’t bargained for this,and the M6 was chocker. Fortunately,SOLKITTS was totally unfazed by this. He turned onto the old A6 and we merrily sped along. I had my scarf flying from the window,which made it completely unwearable for the duration. Choked with crap. 

I think we got there and parked up for about 6pm,and straight into the pub,natch. I think it was called The Maypole. Either way,a local recognised my Dad from when they both lived in Ardrossan and he was an old pal of my Uncle Jim! He gave us a few tips on access to the ground,etc,so we made our way there for another famous night.

Or so we thought. The problem with a result like the earlier one is that it was always unlikely to be repeated. UEFA had stitched us up and our board-thinking of the gate money-had gone along with it. The fools… 

We went at them from the start,sure,but we lacked the earlier sparkle. And just when we though we had scored with an absolute rocket of a shot from Roy Aitken,it bounced of the bliddy post instead. 

And he had hit it so hard that it rebounded almost to the halfway line,where the Rapid centre forward simply ran through on goal to put the tie out of sight. Celtic were deflated and angry,yes,but the board should have thought of the bigger picture. There was the guarantee of AT LEAST another home gate had they fought our corner,but naw. Spineless greedy basterts.

They robbed us of our best chance of European glory since the heady days of yore,which had come to a halt a decade earlier against Atletico,another bunch of cheating basterts. And would not arrive again until nearly twenty years later,when we were undone by a third lot of cheating basterts in Porto.

Everton put the record straight against Rapid in the final,and there were even banners in the crowd proclaiming “Celtic should be here!”

But the worst thing of all? My Dad was still a bliddy jinx! But his time would come,with him cheering us on as often as possible in The Centenary Season. If yer gonna lay a curse,there can be no better time to do it than that.

Somehow,I expect today’s game to be a somewhat quieter affair. I hope so,I’m getting too old for all this excitement lark.

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Above article by BMCUWP