Carnations and Clovers

 

                                                 Carnations and Clovers

The Estadio Nacional in Lisbon will always hold a place in the hearts of Celtic fans. It is here that Celtic’s greatest triumph was played out underneath the azure skies of a Portuguese summer day. Today it remains a place of pilgrimage for Celtic supporters and some estimate that more Celtic fans have visited the stadium in the years since that legendary match that actually attended the final. Such is the stadium’s hold on the collective memory and psyche of Celtic supporters that a trip there is on the bucket list of many of them. This was the scene of their greatest achievement, the vindication of the hard years struggling through poverty and discrimination to greatness. It was here that Glasgow Celtic arrived before the eyes of the footballing world and dazzled them with a display of footballing brilliance.

Many supporters who attended the final in Lisbon were surprised that a stadium with such an unusual design was chosen to host such a prestigious match. Architect, Miguel Jacobetty Rosa’s design was based loosely on the Olympic stadium in Berlin but in having one side of the stadium open, it mimicked the ancient Greek stadia of antiquity. This pleased the dictator of the time who envisaged people of the distant future looking at the stadium in the manner people today look at ancient Greek or Roman ruins. The stadium was designed to be part of a much larger sporting and cultural complex which encouraged the people of Portugal to be active and healthy.

Completed in June 1944, the opening ceremony may have looked fascist on the surface, with thousands of athletes marching past the presidential box and giving the ‘Roman salute’ to dictator Salazar. However, despite the fascist overtones, Portuguese politics under the dictator, Antonio de Oliveira Salazar claimed, rightly or wrongly, to be neither of the left or right, but a one-party state built on the foundations of conservative, Catholic social teaching and nationalism. Thus, the stadium in Jamor, on the western edge of Lisbon, had none of the fascist insignia built into it which were a feature of Hitler’s and Mussolini’s architecture. Indeed, in Italy today, it is not unusual to see fascist symbols surviving from Mussolini’s time on buildings or even drain covers.

The stadium has hosted many international matches and most Portuguese Cup finals since it’s opening in 1944. Some of the games played there have grown into  legendary status in Portuguese society. The great Torino side of the late 1940s played a testimonial match there before flying back to Italy and meeting with the awful plane crash which wiped out the entire team. Among the victims of the crash was Valentino Mazzola, father of Sandro Mazzola, who scored the penalty for Inter Milan against Celtic in 1967.  There was an embarrassing 10-0  defeat for Portugal at the hands of  England in 1947 when Tommy Lawton and Stan Mortenson scored four goals each. In Portuguese popular culture though, it is the cup final of 1969 which lives in the collective memory.

Football has on occasion provided the context for political dissention and expression. As the stuffy far-right dictatorship of Salazar drifted on into the 1960s, change was in the air. Salazar was a traditional dictator who suppressed civil and political rights, censored the media, used his secret police to arrest and torture opposition figures and engaged in brutal colonial wars which saw hundreds of thousands killed in Portuguese colonies. His apologists say he kept Portugal out of the second world war, modernised the country and gave it a sense of itself, but at what cost? When he fell into a coma in 1968, it seemed a moment had come where the people would have yet another dictator to lead them or decide to fight for real change.

As so often happens, that struggle for change would be led by the young. Portuguese students had been vocal in their opposition to the dictatorship and this came with many risks.  The students who were leading the demands for freedom centred on the university town of Coimbra. The Government was becoming increasingly dismayed at their demonstrations and things came to a head when the towns football team, Académica de Coimbra, reached the cup semi-final in 1969. The players took to the field wearing black armbands to mark the ‘death of liberty’ and their fans chanted for freedom. Salazar and his regime doubtless hoped they’d lose the ties with Sporting CP, as they did not want Académica fans using the Portuguese cup final as a focal point for demonstrations against the dictatorship.

As it transpired, they won both legs of the semi final to reach the final and set up a tie with the wonderful Benfica side of that era. Benfica, if you recall,  had lost an epic European cup tie with Stein’s Celtic on the toss of a coin that season after a 3-3 aggregate score. They didn’t want to slip up in the cup final against their unfancied opponents from Coimbra.

The Benfica players and many of their fans were solidly behind the Académica fans demonstrations and indeed many joined in. For their part, the regime stopped the game going out live on TV in order that the Portuguese public wouldn’t see the demonstrations. The President and his ministers broke with tradition and refused to attend the game. The police looked on nervously as the fans chanted their songs of freedom and held up banners with phrases such as ‘More teachers-less Police’ and  ‘Less shooting, less barracks, less repression.’ 

When the teams took the field, the Académica players wore teachers gowns over their strips in solidarity with the professors at the university who were with the students in their protests. For Portugal it was a dangerous moment. The authorities could easily unleash more repression if the demonstrations continued.

On the field, Académica led the great Benfica 1-0 until the last few minutes when Simoes equalised to take the match to extra time.  In extra time the great Eusebio scored the deciding goal. Given his personal support for the protests, he described it as, ‘the saddest goal I ever scored.’ Benfica took the cup but the fans of both sides let the government know that the demands for freedom and democracy were only getting louder. The students and football fans who attended the 1969 cup final in the Estadio Nacional, turned the cup final into a political event and in doing so turned the rhetorical power of the stadium itself against the regime, who built it and tried to impose their own set of meanings onto it. This supposed imposing symbol of nationalism and authority was now ringing with songs of freedom.

It took five more years of protest and repression before elements of the army finally had enough and overthrew the regime in a bloodless coup. The population poured onto the streets to convince the army not to replace one dictator with another. At the flower market, a restaurant worker put carnations in the barrels of the soldiers’ guns. Others followed suit and the ‘carnation revolution’ was born. The army didn’t fire a shot as the people embraced them on the streets. Portugal then began its painful transition to democracy.

The Estadio Nacional has seen its share of great sporting moments. Sporting CP fans will tell you of how their ten men came from two goals behind to equalise with the last move of the game in 2015, before winning the cup on penalties. Porto fans will remind you that they won the cup there in 2003 to complete a domestic treble, to which they added the UEFA cup.

Of all the matches played at the quaint stadium on the western outskirts of Lisbon though, one stands alone for those who know their footballing history.  The defensive strategy of Inter Milan had won them the European Cup in 1964 and 1965 and saw then narrowly lose in the semi-final in 1966 to eventual winners, Real Madrid. Against this experienced and formidable side came eleven pale Scottish lads playing in the European cup for the first time. They were led by a coach who wanted the game to be played in a different manner. Jock Stein would tell his side to be true to their history and their traditions. They would attack Inter Milan from the start with pace, verve and style. His team would not rely on histrionics, simulation or time wasting; they would play the Celtic way.

The effect of this relentless Celtic attacking was mentioned by seasoned international defender Tascisco Burgnich. He was a man who had made 467 appearances for Inter and appeared in the 1970 World Cup Final for Italy, and yet, as he recalls in the book ‘Inverting the Pyramid’ the Inter players came to the realization that the team was ‘destroyed’ and that Celtic would not be denied their date with destiny. He said…

"I remember at one-point Picchi turned to the goalkeeper Sarti and said 'Giuliano, let it go, just let it go. Sooner or later, they'll get the winner'. I never thought I would hear those words. I never imagined my captain would tell our keeper to throw in the towel. But that shows how destroyed we were at that point.”

Two years after Celtic’s shining moment, the students of Coimbra started their own revolution, but in a very real sense, Celtic had started a revolution of their own on that sunny day long ago in the Estadio Nacional.  European clubs saw the way Celtic had played and attacking football was back in vogue. The great Ajax team of the early 70s is often quoted as starting 'total football' but watch that match from Lisbon in 1967 and tell me that isn't total football!

And so, they still come to the Estadio National. Some were there in 1967 and wanted to see it again. Most were too young to remember the Lions mauling of Inter, but have been raised on those tales of glory from childhood.

The old stadium means different things to different people, but it lives long in the hearts of many. For those who wore the carnation, it is a place where freedom once more found its’ voice.

For those sporting the four-leafed clover, it was their field of dreams where the human spirit triumphed against the odds yet again and Walfrid’s wildest dreams for his club were exceeded.