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Lhads,
below is a bit of a story I sent to Celtic for inclusion in the Book about
Seville, it wasn't printed and I have had it saved for a whileand was
reminded about just yesterday and I senty it on to a lad, just decided
to send it to this lhist as I think it might be away to another one as
well, brings back great memories (well mostly!) lets hope we have more
to write about next summer!.
Jim.
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Seville 2003, it's a long long way from Basle to here! Picture the Scene,
it's a Wednesday night late August 2002, Chris Sutton has just put the
ball on the wrong side of the post in the dying minutes in Basle, gathered
in their local The Chieftain Bar in Monaghan are the members of the Paul
Johnson CSC, some were just staring at the big screen in disbelief, others
head in hands knowing that our last chance had gone, while some of the
rest were vocally letting their feelings be known about who should be
bought especially that Hakin Yakin ! Me, well I finished off my beer,
and headed for the front door down tru' the bar where you would swear
there had been a death in the family, no one was speaking, as I passed
him by I nodded to the barman, I couldn't even get the words "goodnight"
out ('cause mainly it wasn't) and that was it, home I went with visions
of the season being over before it began, how wrong could one be !
That Friday the draw was made, Suduva ! who? while we had been dreaming
of Juve, Milan and Madrid we got bloody Suduva! Well Martin and the Bhoys
got on with the job and dispatched the Suduvians (is that the right pronunciation?)
and then the fun started, "The Return of The Mustache", Blackburn
Rovers on Halloween night at Celtic Park. As soon as the draw was made,
as bus convenor for our club my home phone was near rung of the hook,
thankfully we were able to accommodate all our members who were there
to witness one of the greatest displays of football by an away side at
Celtic Park, according to the media, press and TV pundits alike Rovers
played the Bhoys of the park and headed back to Ewood with a magnificent
1-0 defeat ! "Men against Bhoys " cried Souness in the dressing
room afterwards, how those words were to come back to haunt him. 14 of
our Bhoys headed off early on the 14 of Nov, flight from Belfast to Liverpool,
arriving 10.30am approx, now we weren't meeting our coach to Blackburn
until 3pm, so it was to O'Neill's (how appropriate!) bar in the city centre
that we reconvened. Later that afternoon we departed for Blackburn and
that marquee beside the ground, why they had fridges I'll never know,
as the beer never got time to reach them, it was straight from the store
to the hands of the thirsty Celts inside that tent, it would have suited
them better to have had toilets instead of an array of empty fridges!
Well we eventually got into the ground, as soon as the cops found out
how to handle a big crowd, it seemed like no time at all that Henke started
the route with a beautiful chip over the impressive Friedel and then the
craic started, by the time big Sutton scored we were in overdrive! "Men
Against Bhoys?" we sang, just in case theyhad forgotten! I looked
towards the mustache who you could tell was not liking what he was hearing
bellowing out from the Celtic end, after that it was back to Liverpool
where we partied until 4am and then caught the 6.30am flight back to Belfast.
At about 9am I arrived at my home house to be met by the wife who was
standing with a paint brush and a tin of paint, oh why did I promise to
do this today?
Next up was Celta Vigo, two weeks later at Celtic Park, once again it
was a 1-0 victory, some folk were writing us off again, but the Celtic
support who where at the games were beginning to see a pattern, that'll
do, sure they got no away goal. Well being involved with the AICSC (I'm
transport officer) we organized our first charter flight of the season,
Belfast direct into Vigo airport, it worked a treat on the way out! The
next bit of this story is absolutely true and I'm amazed (and slightly
embarrased!) that I'm putting it down in print, but sure here goes. On
the way over on the plane, I had been handed monies from members clubs
for tickets etc ?1200.00 in total, well I hate carrying money about on
match day but I have always been careful and nothing had ever happened
before this so I wasn't particularly worried ! Now we arrived early, too
early! first things first, five of us went for a meal, 3 course for a
total cost of 36.00, that set the precedent for the day. We went for a
tour of the city but there was very little to see so we did then what
everyone esle did, hit the bar! At ?1.50 for a bottle of beer we couldn't
believe it, well unfortunately my mate Harry and myself had too many of
them (first and only time in my 23 years of following the Bhoys, I might
add), we got into the game ok! watched as the Bhoys pulled off another
magnificent result away from home with BBJ scoring the crucial away goal.
It was when on the coach on the return journey to the airport I realized,
NO BAG!. Lads where is the bag I cried (and I mean I was close to tears!)
no one knew anything about it. Inside was the ?1200.00 cash, my Pentax
camera, two zoom lens, club banner, gifts bought in the Vigo shop and
my passport! Jesus how am I going to get home without that I thought?
Well at the airport there was no chance of getting on the flight, no passport!
no way you are getting out of here I was told, it was then the atmosphere
changed from what had been smiley happy people to a scene of Celts diving
for cover in the airport departure area. For what ever reason the over
the top actions of the Vigo police should never have happened, they battered
anyone in hoops, I wasn't one of them thanks to the actions of one of
my mates. Now there was one guy in my squad who has surely kissed the
Blarney Stone, one Daniel Kerr, he went and had a word with the Spanish
Lady at the departure gate, now I'm not sure what he promised her but
it worked, I was on the flight, my first bit of luck. Next morning my
head was in turmoil, how could I have been so stupid I thought, while
sitting feeling sorry for myself I remembered something usefull, another
friend Ger Ryan I had met earlier the day before was staying on for a
few days in Vigo. I eventually contacted Ger by mobile phone told him
the story and asked him to check out a few bars on the street I met him
on, this was at 2pm at 4.45pm I got a call saying done seven bars (and
he sounded like it too!) and no luck! he had also tried the stadium, nothing
there either, now what the stadium operator did do for him was put into
print in Spanish what Ger was saying in
English. We're going back up again said the 'boul Ryan. At 21.00hrs local
time I got a call from Galicia, it went something like this "Heh
Greenan, was it a black bag you were looking for? did it have a wad of
cash in it ? a Pentax camera and zoom lens? and your bloody passport with
your ugly mug looking out at us", well I didn't speak for a minute
and then asked "are you lot winding me up"? and back came the
reply "you are one Jammy B.......hoy", well words to that effect
! Well the bhoys did get my bag back, with nothing missing I may add,
what had happened was that I gave the bag to the barman and asked him
to mind it for me until after the game, to this day I don't remember doing
it, but what I do remember is his honesty, the people in Galicia were
some of the nicest I have ever met and to be honest if this had happened
anywhere else in the world I don't think I would ever have seen thebag,
never mind it's contents !
Well still in Europe after Christmas, now isn't that just great. StuttgartGermany
was to be our destination and probably the best of all the European away
trips. Once again I was involved in a charter from Ireland, members from
the AICSC, the Donegal Assoc and CSA member clubs from Belfast got together
for the first time in a joint venture on a one day charter to Stuttgart.
Well tickets for the away game were not the easiest to get your hands
on, even though Stuttgart gave an allocation of over 5,500. Well news
travelled fast about the neutral section within the Gottlieb-Daimler-Stadion
and I contacted friends I had in Dortmund to see if they had anyway of
acquiring some of the tickets as only residents in Germany were able to
purchase them, Holgar and Tina managed to get their hands on about 85
of the precious briefs so along with the 50 we got from the Celtic Ticket
Services we would at least we would be able to satisfy the demands of
our traveling membership, we were on our way! First though we had to get
a satisfying result in the first leg at Celtic Park, things started brightly
for us and then one of the Stuttgart players got himself sent of when
taking Stan Petrov down who was tru' on goal but instead of giving us
a lift we went a goal down within minutes. A great finish by Paul Lambert
brought us back on terms and a clinical strike by Shaun Maloney put us
2-1 up by half time, Stan Petrov somehow squeezed one in at the near post
in the 2nd half at the Lisbon Lion end as the clever Germans (well so
they thought!) changed ends at kick off. So off to Germany we went in
late February, on arriving at the airport we were informed that our match
tickets could be used on any train, so we took the first train to the
city centre arriving around midday and already the square in the town
had been taken over, there were Celts everywhere, also crates of empty
and full bottles of every known German beer ever invented or should that
be formented! On the way out to the stadium we met in with, Stuttgart,
Dortmund and St Pauli fans, they all sang "last game in Wembley,
we won the last game in Wembley" an obvious referral to Germany beating
England in the last game in the English National Stadium, we replied with
"beat them in Stuttgart" a reminder of the Republic of Ireland's
1-0 victory in 1988, inspired by Bonnar, McCarthy and Morris, as supporters
of different football clubs we found we all had something in common! The
game itself was a cracker, what a start we made, 2-0 up before we knew
where we were, it was at this point I broke a rule I have, any time I
ever tape a Celtic game we always nearly as a rule get a bad result. My
eldest son James rang me just before half-time to tell me what the atmosphere
sounded like on TV, "sure tape it said I" thinking sure the
game was over! well I bet he'd only pressed the record button when Stuttgart
pulled one back, naw won't happen I thought, by the end of the game I
could be heard to say "what the hell did I tape it for" as I
was being measured up for a straight jacket! The return journey to the
airport proved to me once again what football was all about, Celtic and
Stuttgart fans exchanging viewpoints about the game, scarves being swapped
and grown bhoys and ghirls hugging our new found German friends as if
we new them all our lives, next up Liverpool.
This is the round that it was all to come to an end according to the commentators,
those so called football experts, especially the ones we have over here
on Irish National Television. They had us written of before a ball was
kicked, Liverpool will have too much class for this pretty average Celtic
side and anyway how could a team from a Mickey Mouse league like the SPL
beat a team from the greatest league in the world, I had to look up the
La Liga website to make sure Liverpool weren't playing there, but instead
were indeed playing in the English Premiership just as I thought. Well
the first leg was a replica of the Blackburn first leg except that we
let the Scousers score, Henrik who had missed the two games with Stuttgart
scored as
early as the first minute but we couldn't capitalize on it and let Liverpool
especially Steven Gerrard dominate the midfield area, on the way out of
the stadium I was feeling a bit down when one of my mates said, "that
lot have scored all the away goals they can" I thought about it for
a minute and once again became confident we could progress. That night
Liverpool player El Hadj Diouf also got himself a suspension for one of
the most despicable outbursts I have ever seen at a football match when
he spat on a Celtic fan in the South stand who had just helped him back
on his feet after falling into the stand itself. I was lucky enough to
get a ticket for the return leg in Anfield as Liverpool only made 2,200
tickets available, I wonder the next time there is a testimonial between
the two clubs will they issue such a small amount, somehow I don't think
so! However, 2 days before the game a job came up and for once I couldn't
go. Once again I was back in the Chieftain with my fellow supporters club
members and what a night we had, on the stroke of half time Thommo's free
kick put us in front and the bar went mad, well if we thought that was
mad you would want to have seen it when Big Bad John let fly with that
wonder goal, everyone was sitting staring at the big screen counting down
the clock and waiting nervously for a sneaky goal to take the game to
extra time when the big fella rattled Jerzy Dudek's net, we're in a European
semi-final, let's celebrate was the first thought, and bhoy did we not
party, a few local Liverpool fans did I think whisper "well done"
the rest have carried on as if it never happened, only we know better.
Of the teams we were to meet in the semi-final I really wished that it
would be Lazio, I have been to Rome before and the Eternal city is somewhere
I hope I will once again travel to only next time among the Celtic support,
although may it be AS Roma we play as the Lazio supporters aren't the
friendliest in the world of football. Boavista it was to be, a team that
most felt were the weakest of the four semi-finalists, I felt personally
that they couldn't be that bad as after all they were one of only four
survivors, my fears were confounded at Celtic Park on the night of my
fortieth birthday, 10th April 2003. Once again Henrik was to score but
by that stage the Portuguese were 1-0 up, the super Swede was to miss
a penalty and it looked like we could be in trouble. It was to be a disappointing
night all-round but especially for one Celtic family in particular, Neil
Lennon's father was to release a statement that he would never return
to Celtic Park again so shocked was he by the reaction of a section of
the Celtic support's to the fact that Neil had made another reverse pass
when there did seem to be other option's open to him. I have always felt
then and since that Neil wasn't booed that night but that due to the pressure
of the occasion the supports reaction was more of a glorified "for
f's sake", I certainly didn't hear any booing around me where I sat
in the Jock Stein stand but I did hear plenty complain on why there was
plenty of space that Neil didn't avail of. I do hope that Gerry Lennon
does think over what he said and does return and that it will still be
at a time when his son is still wearing the hoops at Celtic Park. Strangely
to say, I don't think Neil Lennon had a bad game after that night, towards
the end of the season he also made more forward runs than he had made
previously and in particular was magnificent in both the final in Seville
and the last league game
against Kilmarnock. The second leg in Boavista once again seen a charter
from Ireland to Portugal with the AICSC taking up 90 seats of the 175
available on the flight, it was to be a worthwhile trip, although with
twelve minutes to go in the game in didn't look as if it would. Henrik
Larsson what can one say that hasn't been said already, Boavista were
playing like the Killie's and the Hearts of this world when they visit
Celtic Park, it was everyman behind the ball until that man Larsson put
away the only decent opportunity that came his way that night, around
me my mates were going wild, almost as wild as they did when pre-match
we were right beside the TV gantry and ex-Celt Jorge Cadete was there
but more importantly so was his girlfriend! Wow ! Jorge was called over
and along with him the came his girl, well the bhoys proceeded to tell
Jorge that he was needed for an interview so while he went away to find
out they had wound him up, the bhoys did their best to convince this blonde
bombshell that real men (still) wore hoops, and they have the photos to
prove it! Anyway what a feeling that final whistle was, the celebrations
on and off the field will live with me forever, Bobo certainly wasn't
hiding his emotions and wasn't it great to see Neil Lennon looking happy
in a Celtic strip once again as he walked to the small pocket of Celtic
fans on the opposite side of the ground. Back at the airport myself and
a pal Shane Fox managed to wrangle our way into the departure gate 7 where
the Celtic team was to depart, we stood beside the lady who held the boarding
passes for Celtic FC, the security men held the
crowd back opposite us and then they came, one by one the victorious Celts
! I nearly had to be peeled of Henrik Larsson, BBJ came tru' and stopped
to talk to Shane, holding up proceedings. In the back ground the Celtic
support were singing "They'll be watchin' the Bill, when we're in
Seville!" while Bobo, Stan and Didier stood right in front of me
with Bobo doin' some funny kind of dance in rhythm with the music, sure
what to hell I joined in. What a moment, just gone forty two weeks earlier
I should have more sense, but then again I'd never seen Celtic reach a
European final before, I was only seven in 1970, although my father was
in Milan. Last to walk tru' was the wee man from Kilrea, just as he passed
me, I shook his hand and told him "all of Ireland is proud of you
tonight", he looked at me and smiled, he knew what I was saying was
right. After that it was back to Ibrox for Sombrero Sunday, well in all
my days I have never laughed as much, Rubber rings, Lilo's, travel brochure's,
suntan cream, beach balls and a couple of road signs that my son and his
mate took along saying Seville 2003KM. I think it was half time before
we realized we were at a football match, we went along for the craic and
were 2-0 up with goals by Alan Thompson and John Hartson by half time,
the 2nd half was a quieter affair, well what I mean quiet we started to
take the game really seriously, although after the final whistle blew
it was party time again "we're goin' to Seville,we're goin' to Seville!"
It was a day to wipe out some of the worst memories I have had watching
the Celts, I don't think we will ever see another day like Sombrero Sunday!
Seville May 21st 2003, where do I start. Once again I was involved with
an AICSC charter, 354 Associated members on board one flight on a 3 day
trip from Dublin, from what I've been told it went like clockwork from
start to finish. Well the reason that I don't know is that I took the
family to the South of Spain for a week. The resort of Benalmadena didn't
know what hit it, thousands of hoops (all brand new ones as well) everywhere,
well behaved ones as well as one policeman remarked to me, nothing new
there except he was expecting the same misbehaviour that 400 Leeds fans
had brought on the locals on another occasion. On the morning of the game
we were to depart from the hotel where the charter was staying, 500 green
and white clad bhoys n' ghirls were waiting to board coaches, in my role
as AICSC transport officer it was up to myself and the travel rep to sort
it, it was pandemonium for an hour but we got everyone sorted, we departed
to Seville at 11am local time. On arrival in Seville we parked the coaches
at the coach park at the stadium, I decided against going into Seville
City centre as the heat was very over powering. We dined in a small cafe
not far from the stadium and afterwards went into one of the marquee's
where the atmosphere created by almost 5000 Celtic fans was really electric.
It was here I was to leave my wife and youngest bhoy Niall as I hadn't
tickets for them, they weren't on their own as other club members had
travelled without tickets also her friend Louise was there to keep her
company while they watched the game on the big screens. The walk up to
the stadium was amazing, the searing heat, all the green and white hooped
jersey's, the singing of the Celtic song I closed my eyes and imagined
this is what it must have been like in Lisbon back in '67, please god
I thought give us a similar result, sadly it
wasn't to be. On entering the stadium I was met by a scene of Green, White
and Gold along the track side, and at least three quarters of the ground
was taken up by Celtic fans, the noise was deafening, certainly a proud
moment in my life. The team went on to give a good account of themselves,
a mixture of bad luck, bad refereeing and damn bad sportsmanship by the
Portuguese left us all with a sour taste in our mouths at the final whistle.
Surely the man of the match award should have gone to Henrik Larsson who
scored one of the greatest goals you'll ever see in a European final.
At the end Martin O'Neill took his team on a gallant lap of honour, not
as losers though, the thought never entered my head as he led his team
down towards the section of the stadium where I stood, the bhoys down
on that park had taken us on a journey of a lifetime and forever we will
be grateful. In years to come Seville 2003 will be remembered not for
Porto winning 3-2 but for the 75,000 Celtic faithful who took the city
over and to quote UEFA "made it a true football fiesta", Celtic
Football Club might have lost the game but built
upon an already growing reputation, let's hope this isn't the last time
we do this, it should just be the start of a glorius era on the European
scenefor what surely what has been proven now, the biggest supported Football
Club in the world.
As always in life it is good and proper to look and move forward, but
in years to come when I sit down and reminisce over all the games that
I have watched the great Glasgow Celtic play in there will be one year
in particular that I will forever hold dear in my heart, season 2003.
A seasonwhen we won nothing and no doubt we will be told it often enough,
but those who have lived the experience from Basle to Seville won't feel
we've ended up with nothing, if glory could be measured in memories we
certainly were winners and furthermore "I'd rather to have lived
and experienced what we did, than never have done it at all"
Yes Seville 2003, it's been a long long way from Basle to here!
Jim Greenan,
Paul Johnson CSC, Monaghan.
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