PEDANTS will probably argue correctly that Celtic were technically founded in 1887, 6 November to be precise, but as Celtic did not play a game until 28 May 1888, those who say 1888 have a point as well. I can’t say as how I recall losing loads of sleep about that in our Centenary Season! I was far more interested in what was happening on the field.
Billy McNeill had been brought back in 1987 following a trophyless season under the unfortunate Davie Hay. It was in some ways an unfortunate autumn with exits from Europe and the League Cup, but McNeill had made a few shrewd buys – Walker, McAvennie, Miller and possibly the least spectacular but the best of them all – Billy Stark – and gradually by the end of October and into the winter, games began to be won on a consistent basis, a feature being the ability to score late and decisive goals eg at Falkirk on a midweek night a couple of days before Christmas, and at Tannadice Park on Boxing Day.
New Year dawned well with a good 2-0 defeat of Rangers at Parkhead, and although there were a few bad games (eg Stranraer in the Scottish Cup, Morton in the League and the first game (televised live) against Hibs also in the Scottish Cup) nevertheless the team kept winning through in both competitions.
That game at Celtic Park against Hibs in the Scottish Cup in February was played on a Sunday and it gave Celtic fans a chance to renew their love affair with Dunfermline who had removed Rangers from the Scottish Cup the day before. They seemed to be singing something like “The fun’s gone out of the Cup” because we wouldn’t get a Cup final v Rangers, but maybe I misheard them!
We beat both Dunfermline and Rangers in the League live on TV convincingly in March, and April came round to see us on the verge of winning the League as we travelled to Hampden for the Scottish Cup semi-final against Hearts. Frankly we had the hex on Hearts in those days (since Albert Kidd had caused all those nervous breakdowns in Edinburgh two years ago) and once again the Hearts death wish was in full spate. Ten minutes to go Hearts 1 Celtic 0; full time Hearts 1 Celtic 2 – a brilliant performance from a team who simply refused to lose.
But we did lose at Tynecastle the following week. We could have won the League that day, but the Press were not above insinuating (what all Celtic supporters said openly!) that winning the League the following week against Dundee at home would not be the worst outcome for Celtic supporters and Celtic’s finances! What a thing to say! Yes, but it was probably true, and with Celtic Park dangerously overcrowded and far more inside that the 72,000 quoted, Celtic did the business with an early goal from Chris Morris and two second half counters from Andy Walker, one of the successes of the season.
I managed to get into the Main Stand that day – but only because I was there at 1.30 pm for a 3.00 start. It had been a dull day, but just at full time the sun came out, proving what we all knew anyway – that God was a Celtic supporter!
It was the other Dundee team whom we met in the Scottish Cup Final. More or less a carbon copy of the 1985 Scottish Cup Final, except that the weather was a great deal better (God again revealing his partiality?), and this time it was Frank McAvennie who scored the two goals. A great double, and what a great way to celebrate your 100th Birthday!
Yes, that was great but the big mistake in summer 1988 was standing still!
No big transfers, no major initiatives and basically a quiet, heavenly kind of summer at the Glasgow Garden Festival, golf courses, cricket grounds, Spanish beaches and other places. But our foes had not been inactive, and by the end of August, the damage was done. To be fair to the Board and to Billy McNeill, there did not seem to be any need to strengthen the squad, and there was no great cry of “We have to buy!”, “Get the cheque book out!” or “Open the biscuit tin”. The team, in truth, seemed good enough.
But that awful August sealed our fate for the next ten years. First Mick McCarthy gave away a shocker of a goal at Dundee United, and then the team unaccountably laid down and surrendered 1-5 to Rangers at Ibrox, then on the Wednesday after that we went out of the Scottish League Cup to Dundee United at Tannadice (again).
It was the Ibrox debacle that we failed to recover from, and yet it was only August.
Then was surely the time to buy a player or two, to fight back and to show that it was just a bad game. But no, things were allowed to fester and by the time that Aberdeen came to Parkhead and won 3-1 on 17 September (the last day of the Glasgow Garden Festival) it was clear that the season had already gone.
The psychological battle had been lost, the dark anguish of our soul took over and the death wish and inferiority complex of the early 1960s returned. There was one exception (Joe Miller and the Scottish Cup final of 1989) but other than that, we needed two short-lived Dutchmen (Pierre Van Hooijdonk in 1995, and Wim Jansen in 1998) to restore anything.
And that is before we talk about the awful unmentionable man with the blonde/red hair who was deservedly given the name of the 13th man at the Last Supper, the boycotts, the awful performances, the penalty shoot outs and the long slow, agonising but deserved death of the old Board.
The curse remains on them for what they did.
When Aeneas the leader of the Trojan refugees arrives in Carthage, he is asked by Queen Dido “What happened?”
He replied “Oh Queen, you ask me to renew unspeakable grief”.
“Unspeakable” was the grief that was inflicted on us in those awful years.
David Potter
