Thoughts now turned to our final match of 1978/79, Rangers at home on the following Monday. Two Hampden stalemates with Hibernian meant that their final two League matches, against Thistle and Hibs, would now take place after the Parkhead clash. A win or draw would leave the title in their hands, only a Celtic win would be enough for us.
The tension was crackling in the old ground
The tension was crackling in the old ground, as the week’s talking stopped and play began. On a bright May night, Old foe MacDonald came back to haunt Celtic again with an early strike and we trailed at the interval. Things went from bad to worse early in the second-half, as a grounded MacDonald felt the wrath of Johnny Doyle and suddenly we were ten.
But not just any ten, as led by Roy Aitken, in his finest of many fine hours, Celtic attacked the Ibrox side at will and took the lead, following goals from Feed the Bear himself and George McCluskey.
There was a final act of defiance from Greig’s Rangers, just two minutes later, as they rallied to protect their dream of back-to-back domestic trebles. My heart sank into the seat below, as Bobby Russell’s shot following a corner, arrowed through our defence to crash against the Janefield post and bounce over the line.
However, there is often a magic about Celtic and this particular night was not to end in tears for those of a Hoops persuasion
However, there is often a magic about Celtic and this particular night was not to end in tears for those of a Hoops persuasion. Inspired by a blood-curdling Jungle roar, the sheer willpower of Aitken and McCluskey drove them down the Celtic right, forcing a fatal mistake from Jackson and providing a precious lead with just five minutes remaining. With those five minutes feeling like fifty, Roy again brought the ball out of defence and found Murdo MacLeod on the left side of the box.
As 50,000 fans screamed in unison for him to hit it anywhere, he came up with a better option, as his shot flew past McCloy into the top corner and the title was ours, amidst incredible scenes of joy
As 50,000 fans screamed in unison for him to hit it anywhere, he came up with a better option, as his shot flew past McCloy into the top corner and the title was ours, amidst incredible scenes of joy. Some time later, thanks to the fact that Dad ‘worked’ in the stand on matchdays, providing hospital broadcast and Golden Goal services with his colleague Jim Divers, I had the privilege of standing in the Director’s box, as the stocking-soled Celts did their lap of honour in front of a delirious support.
I recall ex-Celt, Pat McCluskey, standing next to me and simply repeating the word ‘Wonderful’, then shaking his head. A veteran of Hampden triumphs and European Cup semi-finals, he may have thought that he had seen it all, however this night was something else.
In the foyer downstairs, sat an expressionless Alex Ferguson, the manager of Aberdeen. He would not know at this point, that his team would be the successors to Celtic, as champions of Scotland. But that would be another day. For now, the night belonged to Billy McNeill and his team of young Lions, who had persevered through this strangest and tightest of seasons to reclaim the title in the most dramatic of circumstances.
The legend of Ten Men Won The League had been born.
Hail Hail,
Matt Corr
Read the first part of this feature below:
Celtic’s remarkable 1978-79 season, Part 1 – Plummeted Depths
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I got nervous again just reading it; what a night!