The ghosts of
the past
As I watched
the scenes unfold at Celtic Park yesterday in the aftermath of the final league
game of the season, I couldn’t help but feel a familiar wave of nostalgia and
history flowing around me. Five generations of my family have followed Celtic
through good times and bad and that emerald rectangle on which the players
cavorted and celebrated has been their theatre, their happy place and even their
second home. The rough and ready terraces of the past may have been replaced by
the towering cathedral of football we see today, but the ghosts of the past are
strong here.
That spot where
Palma slotted home the winning goal, was once occupied by Larsson, Dalglish,
Lennox, Tully, McGrory, Gallacher and McCallum. Where I sit in the north stand
was once the spot where the old wooden pavilion stood. It was here that Maley,
Kelly and Patsy Gallacher got ready for games. It was once the spot where that
neck of terracing connecting the Celtic end to the Jungle stood. A space where
I’d stand with my old man, brothers and uncle in days long gone. Perhaps we get
more nostalgic as we get older, but I can’t help thinking of those folk long
gone, on days like yesterday. How they’d marvel at the sights and sounds of the
modern Celtic Park; how they’d be overjoyed at Celtic’s on field success in the
modern era. How happy they’d be that we still follow the club that meant so
much to them.
We’ve come a
long way since the days I’d stand outside a pub with the other boys, waiting for
our fathers to emerge and take us to see our team. That excitement we felt when
we saw the floodlights, heard the songs drifting on the breeze and joined the
queues at the turnstiles, has never left many of us. I can recall vividly, half
running up the concrete stairs as the game was about to kick off and seeing that
emerald rectangle laid out before us, those hooped shirts immaculate and filled
with our heroes. We’d live those games, kick every ball, roar at every foul and
be totally engrossed in backing our team.
As the match
ended yesterday and the workmen built the podium for the players to lift the
trophy, I spoke to a dad bringing his boy to his first trophy day. ‘My first
was in 1998,’ he told me, ‘never been so nervous in my life.’ I remembered that
day well and told him that I still have a piece of Celtic Park turf from that
day growing in my garden. His son, who looked about six or seven, listened to
us gabbing, before his old man patted him on the head, ‘I wonder how many days
like this he’ll see?’ I smiled,
thinking, that was me once upon a time. Just a lad setting out on his Celtic
supporting journey.
As the trophy
was lifted and the ticker tape and confetti filled the air, I roared along with
the other sixty thousand fans who had come to cheer their team. Every one of
them had a story to tell, a family history where Celtic was handed down to them
like a precious heirloom. For others, their journey to Celtic started when they
arrived in Scotland from a score of lands and saw Walfrid’s club as their
natural destination. That feeling of comradeship, family even, is strong among
Celts and it shows no sign of dissipating.
We are, of
course, delighted at every Celtic success. Yes, we want a stronger, more
competitive game here in Scotland, but that will never detract from the
happiness of days like yesterday. When you see guys like Joe Hart, a keeper
with 75 caps for England, take Celtic to his heart to the degree where the
thought of leaving reduces him to tears, you have to smile. He gets it.
So, the
season is almost over with just the Scottish cup final to come. Despite Brendan
Rodgers’ remarkable derby record of just 1 defeat in 18 games, he’ll know that
every game has its own narrative and that nothing can be taken for granted. One
silly red card, one penalty decision can change the whole flow of a match. We
remain confident but should avoid arrogance or any feeling of entitlement.
Every success has to be earned, to be fought for on the field.
Celtic
reached 54 titles this season, just one behind
the combined totals of both avatars of Rangers. Celtic could well
overtake their total in the next few years but most understand that most of
these records are set in smaller leagues where two or three clubs dominate. So,
I doubt any ‘going for 55’ tifos will be arranged, although there will be much
humour around. Celtic hasn’t led Rangers in number of titles won for almost a
century. In 1997 when Rangers won the last of their nine consecutive titles,
Celtic were 12 behind them. It is a measure of Celtic’s dominance since then
that they are now just one behind. Those who ‘welcome the chase’ must realise
that it is almost over.
As I walked
in bright sunshine from Celtic Park yesterday, the happiness of the fans was
palpable. There’s a younger generation growing up who have yet to taste
anything other than success. You could say the dark days of the 90s were
character building for older Celtic fans but in truth they were the fruits of
mismanagement by the board in the pre-McCann era. Hopefully that biscuit tin
mentality is gone forever and those youngsters will never endure a decade of
failure.
As that river
of green clad humanity flowed along the Gallowgate, I could picture the old
tenements that once stood there in my mind, Terry the Tattoo Artists shop, the
old pubs like the General Wolfe and the Four Ways. I could also see my old man’s
face; happy that the Celts had done it again. So much has changed as the years
drifted past, but as I took in the sights and sounds of happy Celtic supporters,
I knew that love they had for their club would endure as it had done since
Walfrid’s boys defeated Rangers 136 years before.
A grand old
team right enough.
