The old Celtic Magic

The old Celtic Magic

Ritchie McLaughlan looked around bowl of Hampden Park as they grey Glasgow sky threatened more rain. Half of the stadium was predominantly filled with the red clad supporters of Aberdeen and the other half with Celtic fans like him. It could still be an impressive sight when the old place was full but it wasn’t a patch on the old place when crowds of over 100,000 would turn up for cup finals. The songs were beginning to crank up from both sets of fans as kick off time approached. Ritchie could feel the same excitement building in his stomach as he had at his first cup final many years before.  ‘What was your first cup final?’ he asked turning to his long-time friend Tam Sweeney. Tam, a couple of years older than Ritchie, glanced at him, ‘Actually it was against Aberdeen in 1970. Refereeing was shocking and we got gubbed 3-1. Hope we do a bit better today’ Ritchie nodded, ‘Brendan hasn’t lost a domestic game this season, the treble, the invincible season all hang on this game so I’ve no fears today. It’ll be hard but there’s a bit of the old Celtic magic hanging around this season.’ Tam smiled, ‘I hope you’re right. We’re so close to an amazing bit of history. What was your first final?’ Ritchie  smiled, his mind drifting back 45 years to a blustery day in Govan…

Govan, Glasgow 1972

‘The 6^th of May?’ said Ritchie’s old man with a look of incredulity on his face, ‘they cannae organise a Communion on cup final day!’ His mother shrugged ‘well they did and Dominic’s communion is more important than the fitbaw so you’ll be at St Saviours wi the rest of us.’ Ritchie McLaughlin looked at his young brother and whispered, ‘Here, Dom, whit time is it at?’ His seven year old brother shrugged, ‘the letter said the Mass is at 12 o’clock.’ Ritchie did a quick calculation in his head, Communion masses take well over an hour then there’re all the photographs and no doubt his mother would be laying on a tea for all the relatives. There was a very slim chance they could get to Hampden by 3 o’clock. To the football mad 11 year old this was a disaster, he had looked forward to the cup final since the moment the final whistle had sounded at Celtic’s 3-1 win over Kilmarnock in the semi-final. There had to be a way he, his old man and Dominic could make the final.

Later that day Ritchie wandered up Orkney Street past the Police station to the home of his best pal Derek. He ran up the tenement stairs counting them until he reached the top floor where his friend lived. He knocked on the big front door and waited. Inside he could hear Derek’s mother shouting, ‘Derek could ye answer the door?’ Derek did and grinned to see his pal, ‘Aw right Ritchie, mon in.’ The two friends headed for the living room although Ritchie could hardly fail to notice the strange smell in the house which reminded him of paint stripper. Derek read his thoughts, ‘My Maw’s dyeing her hair, thinks she’s Sandie Shaw.’ They sat on the living room couch as Derek’s twin sisters played with their dolls on the floor near the coal fire which was giving off a steady heat. Ritchie explained his predicament regarding the upcoming cup final as Derek listened in silence, his face a study in concentration. ‘That’s terrible, who the hell organises a Communion on cup final day? If it was me, I’d just slip oot and head tae the match.’ Ritchie shook his head, ‘My Da’s got the tickets, if he disnae go then me and Dom can’t go.’ Derek thought for a moment, ‘You can get a lift, you don’t need a ticket?’  Ritchie shrugged, ‘if it was just the Communion we could make it but it’s all the pictures folk take at the altar in St Saviours after the Mass. My ma took mine there and my sister’s tae, she’d want Dominic’s at the same place and there will be dozens waiting after the mass tae dae that. It’ll take forever.’  Derek thought for a minute, ‘When are ye getting the kilt oot the hire shop?’ Ritchie looked at him a little mystified, ‘Friday, why?’ Derek regarded him, ’I’ve got an idea,’

Later that night, Ritchie waited for his old man to return from his work at Fairfields. Work in the shipyards was hard and he was usually tired when he got in but this night he looked a bit down too. The cup final was three days away the prospect of missing it was affecting him as much as Ritchie. He waited until his old man had finished his supper before sitting on the couch beside him. ‘Da, I’ve got an idea about how we can make it tae Hampden on Saturday and no miss the communion.’ His old man shook his head, ‘It’s not so much the communion Ritchie, it’s all the waiting about for pictures with Father Mac at the altar. Face it son, we’re no gonnae make it.’ Ritchie was having none of it and filled his old man in on how it could be done. As his father listened a glint of hope appeared in his eyes, ‘I’ll need tae square that wi yer Maw and phone Father Mac but it’s a good idea.’ With that he got up from his seat and wandered into the kitchen putting on that voice he used when he wanted to ask a favour of his wife. It wasn’t a trip to the Govan Arms he was after this night though and Ritchie smiled as he heard his old man, normally so gruff in his speech say to her in a soft voice, ‘All right darling, got a wee favour tae ask of ye.’

Dominic stood in his kilt looking very smart but not entirely happy as his mother dragged a hair brush through his mop of dark hair. Ritchie was in his freshly pressed school uniform and his old man in what he called his ‘births, deaths and marriages’ suit. As he had put on his jacket, Ritchie noticed he’s removed a funeral card from the inside pocket from the last time he had worn it. Once they were ready they headed out the door into a brisk May night and headed for St Saviours. They entered the deserted Church, their footsteps echoing in the darkness. The lights flickered on as old Father Mac came out of the vestry dressed in his flowing robes as if ready for mass. With him was one of those old chaps who were always helping out around the church. He was a pass keeper on a Sunday, sometimes gardener and odd job man too.  ‘Good evening to you all he smiled, a very unusual occasion we have tonight.’ Ritchie’s father, looking a little embarrassed returned his smile, ‘aw right fadder, good of ye tae let us dae this.’ The old Pass keeper took a camera from Ritchie’s mother and Ritchie and his family stood by the altar with Father Mac as he snapped away. ‘Most unusual having Communion photos the night before the actual communion,’ the Priest said with a smile. ‘Aye, father. We just thought it would be pretty hectic tomorrow, family coming, a hundred things tae dae’ Richie’s old man smiled.

The old Priest nodded and said with a straight face, ‘Yes, hectic indeed. I must look at the calendar next year. Make sure the first communions don’t clash with the cup final.’ Ritchie saw his old man’s face redden and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. ‘Busted!’ he thought to himself.

Hampden Park 2017

Ritchie smiled at the thoughts of his first cup final so long ago. Celtic had smashed a very good Hibs team 6-1 and he, Dominic and his old man had stood in the Celtic end watching it all unfold. Dominic was still in his kilt and made a few quid from folk slipping him money when they saw it was his communion day. It was a magical time to be a Celtic fan. A huge roar told him the teams were coming out for the 2017 cup final though and he focused on the game at hand. 

Would the old Celtic magic be in evidence today as it was in 1972 when he first saw them lift the cup? He sure hoped so.