Farewell to the King

Farewell to the King

What can you say about Billy McNeill that hasn’t already been written?  He was a leader, the alpha male of a pride of magnificent Lions who mauled all comers in Scottish football for a decade and led Celtic to a place among the most feared teams in European football.  Billy was man in whom his team mates and the supporters had supreme confidence. Jimmy was the brilliant virtuoso, Bertie and Bobby the engine of a fantastic side, Lennox and those wonderfully swashbuckling full backs tore into teams but it was Billy who inspired, cajoled and led them with such dignity and pride. Here was a man you were glad you had on your side; a man the famous hooped shirt was made for. Some players you admire for their guile or their trickery but with Billy the first impression you got was that here was the natural leader of the team.

In memory’s view he is eternally young, standing proudly on the marble dais of the Estadio Nacional in Lisbon, the sun glinting of the polished silver of the European cup as he hoists it towards the azure sky. John Clarke, his lifelong friend said of that magical moment…

‘The look on Billy’s face lifting that trophy; It says: ‘I am the ruler. We rule the world. We are the best.’

In those magical years at Celtic, Stein and his green machine smashed record after record as the trophy famine and disappointments of the hungry years were replaced by a banquet of exquisite football and a cabinet full of honours. McNeill, ever his Manager’s officer on the field, led Celtic to 9 titles in succession 7 Scottish Cups and 6 league cups and all of this whilst remaining true contenders on the European stage. No one wanted to be paired with Celtic in the draw for the European Cup in those heady days when Scottish football was reaching its zenith.

For Billy McNeill though the road to the sunlit uplands of footballing glory could have been very different. His father, Jim, was a fitness instructor in the army and Billy spent two years of his childhood in England as his old man was posted there. He played rugby at his English school for two years and showed some promise at the game. Fate though would take the family back to Scotland and if his father wasn’t interested in football, his aunt Grace was and took Billy to see Celtic for the first time in 1949. For the young boy standing at the old Celtic Park watching Tully, Collins and McPhail defeat Aberdeen 4-2 it was to be the start of a love affair with Celtic which would endure all his life. As a Bellshill boy he did watch Motherwell play on occasion but at heart he was a Celtic fan. Football in the late 1940s was a physical game played on pitches the modern player would baulk at. For spectators the conditions were Spartan and Billy said in later life that his aunt Grace actually lost her shoe on the terraces on that October day when he first saw Celtic play. That didn’t stop her bringing Billy back though and like many a young boy of that era he saw a Celtic side capable of brilliance at times but also frustratingly inconsistent.

Like most boys of his era he played football and developed into an imposing defender for his school, Our Lady’s High in Motherwell. As a teenager, he was soon playing for Scotland at schoolboy level an impressed a watching Celtic scout enough in a match against England that he was signed by the club. Celtic’s youth coach in that year of 1957 was a certain Jock Stein and Billy recalled Jock saying only half-jokingly to his mother, ‘If he steps out of line is it okay if I skelp him?’  Stein was already developing into a talented coach and young Billy could not have imagined then how their fates would be entwined.

His early months as a youth player at Celtic saw his look on as Celtic demolished Rangers 7-1 in the League Cup final of 1957 and he must have thought he was joining a club on the rise. However the archaic management structure of the club in which Chairman Bob Kelly told Manager McGrory who to put into the team and who to leave out took its toll. Good players were sold; wages were poor for such a big club and the one shining light at Celtic Park, the talented coach running the youth side was eventually allowed to leave for Dunfermline. McNeill developed into a very good centre half and represented Scotland in an era when his club was struggling badly. By 1965 he was at the peak of his powers but as a 25 year old with a wife and growing family to support he was actually contemplating his future. Spurs had shown some interest in him and it was well known that the very effective English side of the time paid well. Fate however intervened when Celtic’s autocratic chairman, Bob Kelly, saw sense and appointed Jock Stein as Manager. Things were about change dramatically at Celtic Park and Billy McNeill was about to lead Celtic into an era of unprecedented success.

Celtic’s first great test under Stein came in the final of the Scottish Cup in 1965. In a match which the Fifers had led twice, Celtic refused to wilt as they had done so often in the eight barren years which had followed the 7-1 league cup victory over Rangers. Bertie Auld, resigned by Stein, equalised as the huge Celtic support in the 108,000 crowd dared to dream they could at last win a trophy. Then as the game ticked down to the closing minutes Celtic won a corner and the ball was flighted into the Dunfermline box by the unerring right foot of Charlie Gallagher. What followed was one of those moments in football which signals that something had changed and changed irrevocably. McNeill leapt into the air with that determination and forcefulness which he was becoming known for. He connected with the ball perfectly and it crashed into the net behind Jim Herriot. The vast majority of supporters at Hampden let out a huge roar. It was a roar of joy, of relief, of release from the pent up frustration stored up during the bitter years of failure. Celtic were in the in the lead and nothing would stop them winning that cup. The dam had burst, Celtic were back and their young skipper had in that one iconic moment signalled that all things were now possible for Stein and his young side.

Few at Hampden on that spring day in 1965 could have guessed the heights those men in hooped shirts would attain in the years ahead. Not only did they embark on a decade laden with silverware and glorious memories; they did it playing wonderful attacking football in the best traditions of Celtic. Billy McNeill would become a familiar figure raising cups above his head and leading Celtic into so many new adventures. Lisbon in 1967 was of course the pinnacle of his career and on that shining day beneath the Portuguese sun Billy led his men onto the emerald turf of the Estadio Nacional and into immortality.

Following Celtic is an emotional journey on which we share all the joys and sorrows, ups and down, triumphs and disasters this fine old sport has to offer. Today at Celtic Park his beloved Celtic will hopefully take another step towards the league championship. For the tens of thousands of Celtic supporters attending the game it will be a day of pride and tears. One of our finest sons will be remembered in song, in 67 seconds of rapturous applause and in a thousand memories. There he stands at the bottom of the Celtic way immortalised in bronze so that future generations will always remember him. Children as yet unborn will ask their parents and grandparents who he was and will be told, ‘he was our captain, our leader and one of the greatest men ever to wear that famous shirt.’

Rest in peace, Billy; few men have worn that famous shirt with the distinction and honour you did. As long as there is a Celtic Football Club we’ll speak your name with pride and remember your deeds with a smile.

Goodbye Skipper and thank you.