Celtic are Champions again as The Jungle sang ‘We’ve won the League for Doyle’

We had a great close-season in the Northern Area Celtic club in Springburn in 1981, basking in the afterglow of a tremendous championship-winning campaign. Fergie’s brief revolution had been quashed, his 1980 title success dismissed as a blip, in the same way that Bob Shankly’s Dundee in ’62 and Willie Waddell’s Kilmarnock, three years later, had momentarily interrupted the juggernaut of League success enjoyed by the two big Glasgow clubs since the late fifties.

Pre-season tours of the USA and Germany, with superstars Keegan and Beckenbauer amongst the opposition, were rounded off by a tournament in Rotterdam, where Celtic overcame two old European foes, hosts Feyenoord then Dukla Prague, to keep the feel-good factor going with an early trophy win.

The serious stuff started the following Saturday, with a League Cup sectional match against St Mirren at Celtic Park. And it started badly, a personal disaster for debut Bhoy and lifelong Celt, Willie Garner, who managed an own goal in each half to help Saints to an unexpected 3-1 victory, after Frank McGarvey had continued where he left off last season, by opening the scoring with a header on the half-hour.

Worse was to come in midweek at Muirton Park, where an eighteen-year old striker named Alistair McCoist scored then earned the penalty which secured a 2-0 victory for First Division St Johnstone, champions Celtic incredibly finding themselves bottom of the section and pointless after two games. McCoist would score in the return fixture at Celtic Park but would be gone by the end of the month, joining Sunderland, before returning to Scotland two years later to sign up at Ibrox.

Heading home from Perth that night, it would have been difficult to imagine how the remainder of this campaign would pan out. For the next four games, Celtic were simply sensational, winning both Hibernian fixtures and the return match with St Johnstone by the same 4-1 scoreline and going one better at Love Street.

Poor Garner paid the price for the opening defeats, his Celtic career effectively over before it had really begun, young David Moyes stepping into his spot and impressing from the outset. However, the main focus was on the awesome display of firepower, several rockets from Murdo MacLeod supplementing a barrage of goals from the strike trio of Nicholas, McGarvey and McCluskey. Radios were pressed to ears at Easter Road on the final night, hoping for a draw or Perth win in the Battle of the Saints, to ensure that Celtic’s fantastic fightback would not be in vain.

The night was to end in disappointment, the Buddies winning to maintain their single point lead at the top of the group and the Hoops were out, failing to qualify from a League Cup section for the first time since 1963.

The attacking masterclass continued as Celtic unfurled the League flag with a home fixture against Airdrie, Tommy Burns scoring within 45 seconds, before the ‘terrible trio’ took the tally to five. McCoist’s future strike partner, Sandy Clark, moved a step closer to his own big-money transfer to England, in his case to West Ham United, with a double for the Diamonds in their 5-2 defeat.

September opened brightly, with a fine 3-1 win at Pittodrie, despite the worst possible start, Gordon Strachan netting an early penalty then fleeing from an invading Paddock ‘supporter’, the second such incident in this fixture within a year. Burns quickly equalised with a header, before McGarvey struck either side of half-time, and for once the long road home from Aberdeen was a journey to be enjoyed.

Morton were the visitors to Parkhead the following week, dispatched more comfortably than the 2-1 scoreline would suggest, thanks to second-half goals from MacLeod and the returning Tom McAdam. Our thoughts then turned to the big one in midweek, as Italian champions Juventus flew into Glasgow for our first competitive meeting. The old ground crackled with tension, over 60,000 packed in, as for the second time in eighteen months, European royalty came to Celtic Park.

Juve contained the core of the Italian side who would win the World Cup in Madrid at the end of that season, plus the Irish superstar and future Hoops manager, Liam Brady.

But McNeill’s young side showed no fear, taking the game to their illustrious opponents from kick-off and, in my view, unfortunate to win by only one goal, a drive from MacLeod which flew past Zoff on the hour mark, as Paradise erupted.

We filed down Janefield Street afterwards, still elated from witnessing one of the great European nights, as once again the best had come to the East End of Glasgow and the best had succumbed in our fortress. However, as with the Real Madrid tie, there was an unspoken thought gnawing away that the goal may not be enough.

In the interim, there were other matters to be addressed, starting with a trip to Ibrox on the Saturday. Despite the completion of their rebuilt stadium, there was a marked gulf in the quality of the two sides, the apathy from the Rangers support reflected in the presence of Celtic fans in three of the four stands, including the newly-opened Govan.

An early McAdam header gave Celts the lead, a lead never in any danger as they outplayed their hosts throughout. MacLeod doubled the advantage late on from a free-kick to seal victory, as the Celtic fans went through the full repertoire of Eighties taunts, from ‘Greig must stay’ to ‘You couldnae sell all your tickets!’. Good times to be a Celtic supporter.

There was a difficult game the following weekend, as bottom-dogs Partick Thistle came to Celtic Park and shut up shop, goalkeeper Rough defying Celtic for an hour before Nicholas beat him from an acute angle. Burns headed a second late on in a 2-0 victory, however the main story of the day was the injury sustained by Danny McGrain, leaving the inspirational skipper a major doubt for the midweek trip to Turin.

On the Sunday evening, I met up with some of the Bishopbriggs Bhoys from the Cairn bus, for my first-ever overseas Celtic match. These were the days of Trans-alpino, where around £70 bought you a train ticket to continental Europe, assuming you were under-26. Climbing into the back of a Transit van for the first part of that journey, from Springburn to Central Station, I could hardly contain my excitement.

The party was already in full swing, with big Paul on the tin whistle, as the adventure of a lifetime got underway. An overnight train to London then a connection to Paris brought the first problem, how to get from Gare du Nord to Gare de Lyon for the final part of the journey. Schoolboy French and the odd helpful local saved the day, as we dragged our weary torsos onto yet another train for the overnight cattle ride to Torino. It was a long night, for some reason no seats had been allocated to us, so the tin whistle was on overtime, entertaining the troops in the corridor until arrival in Turin at 6am on the Tuesday. This is how it feels to be Celtic?

With budget being the order of the day, we quickly secure rooms for the equivalent of £1 per night at a hostel across the road from the station. After a much-needed wash, we are ‘good to go’ and the bars of Turin are our target. This is easier said than done, however, eventually we land in what would be described in Glasgow as a café, but with the subtle addition of beer. When in Turin…

Later, we decide to visit the stadium, the old Stadio Communale, for some photographs. We get lucky, as Juve are actually training there and although we cannot approach the players directly, we receive a wave and a smile from Liam Brady as the team re-board their bus.

Returning ‘home’, I am struck by how similar the entire city appears, it is literally block after block of identical buildings, darkness is falling and we’ve had a few beers. Not a great combination. At one point we are stopped by the police, guns and all. In my best ‘O’ level Italian, I explain where we are trying to get to and somehow we do manage eventually to return to base.

There is a pub across the road which looks lively, so in we go. Things are going well until the place is raided by yet more police. We are like TV viewers detached from the scene, as the usual suspects are lined up against the wall before everything calms back down. We are left alone to head back to our Poundland penthouse. Thankfully, there is a game tomorrow.

The following day, we meet up with some other Celtic fans in the city centre, and the news is not good. Supporters are speaking of attacks and robberies and all-round carnage taking place, with us as the targets. Some of this is put down to trouble in Turin the previous summer, when English fans rioted in the city following a defeat by Italy in the European Championships, Celtic being the first team from these shores to visit the place since then. So it’s a cat-and-mouse day for the Cairn reps, low-profile beers and a few more distressing tales to hear, before making our way to the stadium for the big game.

We’re inside the ground and this is something else entirely. We seem to be surrounded by Italian fans and all notion of segregation has long since been abandoned. This is exhilarating but genuinely scary. There are fireworks everywhere as the teams emerge into this cauldron, Celtic wearing all-green as we try to make any kind of impact against a 70,000-strong wall of deafening Italian noise. It already feels like we will be up against it big time tonight. As suspected, Danny McGrain hasn’t made it, a major blow, young Moyes reinstated but this time at right back and Roy Aitken was the captain for the night.

The game kicks off and Juventus are in the mood, Brady pulling the strings as attack after attack bears down on our goal. Despite this, Celtic put up fierce resistance, Brady’s young compatriot Paddy Bonner outstanding for the first half-hour before winger Virdis spins in front of us to curl a beauty into the far corner. The tie is level and it’s going to be a long, difficult night.

Early in the second-half, Roberto Bettega swivels in the box to beat Bonner with a vicious shot, and the Italians have the overall lead they crave. Although a solitary away goal is all that is required, there will be no way back for Celtic. Juventus are masters at seeing out the game. The ball is passed across and through us and the only surprise is that they don’t appear interested in going for a killer third.

We head back to our ‘local’, deflated and defeated on the evening, a second police raid going almost unnoticed as the inquest begins. Worse is to follow in the morning, as the local newspapers are full of the most horrific photographs of assaulted Celtic supporters. It has been a bloodbath outside the ground where the supporters’ buses were parked, one man has been slashed across his back and is in hospital. The result is suddenly irrelevant, as we realise families back home will be worried sick in the pre-mobile days of 1981. Our train is not due to leave Turin until 10.30pm. It will be a long day.

Early in the evening, we head into the main station and base ourselves in a bar there for some final beers. It feels like a safer option than walking the streets. Having witnessed the worst of behaviour, we are then confronted with the decent face of football, as a number of Juventus fans approach us to apologise for the treatment we have received here.

As the only Italian-speaker in the group, I have become interpreter-in-chief and incredibly we end up having a great laugh, sharing a few beers with the Italian fans. There is a surreal moment later on, as one supporter insists I follow him to his car. I cringe to this day at my naivety in doing so, however, someone is looking after me and the Italian then proceeds to empty his glove compartment to provide me with a parting gift, a Supertramp cassette of the time, ‘Breakfast in America’. When I decades later heard the Green Brigade belt out the Scotty Sinclair Logical Song, I often have a chuckle at that episode in Turin’s main railway station, one of the lighter moments in what was a severe initiation to my European away days.

Soon it was ‘arrivederci’ for the long journey home, as before, via Paris and London. The tin whistle was somewhat muted from memory, as we contemplated an incredible few days. We arrived back in Glasgow early on the Saturday morning, exhausted and with just enough time for a wash and shave before catching the Cairn bus at 10.30am for the trip to Dens Park, a mere 90 miles or so away!

It had been a strange opening to the season for the champions. Despite playing some fabulous football we were already out of two tournaments, having won a third. Focus would now be on an all-out assault to lift the League and/or Scottish Cup, maintaining Cesar’s record of a major trophy win every season.

There was no Italian Job hangover for Celtic on the first Saturday of October at Dens Park, George McCluskey with a brace and Frank McGarvey on target in a comfortable 3-1 victory, as the champions maintained their perfect record at the top of the table with a sixth straight League win.

The Magnificent Seven was then achieved at a windy Love Street, McCluskey setting the first goal up for Charlie Nicholas then adding a second before half-time, with Celts then holding firm against a second-half gale and the softest of Saints penalties to prevail 2-1 on the day.

‘Chicken George’ was in the best form of his career. Bursting onto the scene as an eighteen-year-old back in 1975, a combination of injury, perceived inconsistency and, more recently, the excellent form of strike rivals Nicholas and McGarvey, had prevented him securing the number nine jersey on a more permanent basis, despite critical goals in the 1979 title decider – the night when Ten Men Won the League – and the following year’s Scottish Cup Final. However, this would be the season when he would emerge as the key striker at Celtic Park.

The 100% record finally went at the eighth attempt, the following Saturday at home to Dundee United, and it went in the most contentious of circumstances.

Within the first few minutes, the late Ralph Milne clearly controlled the ball with his hand, a la Thierry Henry, before forcing it over the line. As we waited for a whistle which didn’t come – would you believe the referee was a Delaney from Cleland? – disbelief turned to anger. That man McCluskey again came to the rescue, with an equaliser early in the second half, however try as they might, a Celtic winner was not forthcoming and the run was over.

On the previous Tuesday evening, there was a game which ordinarily would hardly merit a mention, as a Hoops side comprised of out-of-favour first-teamers and promising reserves took on Queens Park at Hampden, in the semi-final of the Glasgow Cup. Johnny Doyle opened the scoring early on, with young Jim Dobbin sealing a Final place with a late second.

A great Celtic friend of mine from the Cairn CSC, Joe Lyden, was one of the diehards in the 2,000-strong ‘crowd’ that night, waiting behind to catch autographs of Doyle and the other first-teamers on duty, such as Latchford, Aitken, Conroy, McAdam and MacLeod. Joe and his friends would be unaware that they had just watched Johnny’s last goal and his final match for his beloved Celtic. Tragically, the following Monday, he was killed whilst working at home. He was only thirty years old.

John Doyle signed for Celtic on 15 March 1976 at Glasgow Airport, as the team, under the temporary stewardship of Sean Fallon, prepared to fly to East Germany for an ill-fated European Cup-Winners Cup Quarter-final tie with Sachsenring Zwickau. The lifelong Celtic fan was a £90k club record signing from Ayr United, having starred several times for the Honest Men against his new team. I recall well one midweek game on television, Ayr in a Barcelona-style kit being destroyed 7-2 by Celtic at Somerset Park, in those days one of the toughest grounds in the country in which to get a result.

Despite that heavy defeat and a sending-off against Celtic at Parkhead the following month, Stein and Fallon had obviously seen enough to persuade the Board to part with such a huge cheque to sign the fiery winger. He made his debut at Dens Park the following Saturday in a 1-0 victory, although, sadly, he only lasted half an hour before a bad tackle put him out for a month, during which time Celtic, top since January, lost at Tannadice to hand the initiative and the first Premier League title to Rangers.

On that debut day at Dens Park, as a teenager I was standing in the covered terracing opposite the main stand, with my dad and some of the older Cairn men. A friend of my father’s, Irishman Frank Dolan, turned to us as the teams warmed up to announce that ‘we have signed the new Jimmy Johnstone’ and was immediately roundly scorned. Whilst like Jinky, Doyle was a winger from the Celtic hotbed of Viewpark, Uddingston, I am sure he himself would have laughed at Frank’s comparison. However, Johnny was certainly not short of talent, having gained one international cap for Scotland whilst playing with Ayr United, a provincial club, in the days when such caps really had to be earned.

Nor did he lack heart for the battle. Indeed, ‘battle’ should probably have been his middle name, many of his memorable Celtic moments having an element of adversity attached.

In my review of the 1977/78 campaign previously on The Celtic Star, I highlighted the most bizarre ordering off I ever witnessed. That involved Johnny on a return to Somerset with Celtic, lashing at the ball after the award of a free-kick, only to watch as he took out referee Bob Cuthill with a laser-accuracy the genius Nakamura would have been proud of. A complete fluke of course and hilarious to watch, however, we stopped laughing when the comedy ref got back to his feet and waved a red card in Johnny’s direction. The winger stormed past Jock Stein and down the tunnel, the subsequent waiving of this ridiculous ‘offence’ no consolation at that time.

The following season, Johnny’s kick out at a grounded Alex MacDonald and resultant sending off was probably the catalyst for the 4-2 title-deciding victory mentioned earlier. Who knows how that game would have turned out, had that incident not happened?

Did it, in fact, spur the remaining ten Celtic players to even greater efforts, as they produced an outstanding second half performance to defy all the odds to win the game and the championship? We will never truly know, although the word is that Doyle himself was distraught, blaming himself for what could have been a hugely costly mistake.

Celtic were again reduced to ten men in what I and many others regard as Johnny’s finest performance in the Hoops, although this time he stayed to excel on the pitch. Love Street was the venue for a Scottish Cup replay in February 1980, many of us still stuck in huge queues outside the ground as Tom McAdam received his marching orders and Saints took an early lead. Doyle was immense in a famous fightback, equalising then winning a penalty, which Bobby Lennox converted for 2-2, before scoring an incredible winner at the start of extra-time, running half the length of the field to beat the offside trap then goalkeeper Billy Thomson from the tightest of angles. This would be the pivotal night in that Cup campaign, which ended in glory for John and Celtic at Hampden in May against Rangers.

There were other highlights, one perhaps lesser-known but which I remember from the end of his first season with Celts, yet again at Somerset Park.

With the championship conceded to Rangers, it was a barely-recognisable Celtic side who took the field on the first day in May 1976 against their relegation-threatened hosts, teenagers Andy Ritchie and Robert Hannah making rare appearances beside the equally-youthful Roddie MacDonald, Roy Aitken and Tommy Burns. Despite a Ritchie strike, his only League goal for the Bhoys, Celtic trailed 3-1 with 30 minutes remaining. Cue the returning Doyle, setting up three goals as the Young Hoops emerged from a tough baptism, as unlikely 5-3 winners.

However, I guess the crowning glory, quite literally, would be the night in March 1980, when Johnny threw himself at an Alan Sneddon cross to bullet a header past Ramon in the Real Madrid goal, putting Celts 2-0 up on the night in front of at least 67,000 delirious supporters in the European Cup Quarter-final. For a fan who fulfilled his boyhood dream, pulling on those sacred Hoops, it is difficult to imagine how he must have felt at that moment. Spine-tingling stuff.

The following seasons would bring new challenges for John, as Billy McNeill sought to get his collection of prized attackers, Davie Provan, Nicholas, McCluskey and McGarvey, on to the field, Doyle often forced on to the periphery of the first team. Despite interest from other clubs, most notably Motherwell and Hearts, John decided to stay and fight to win his place back and whilst his untimely death in October 1981 was and is sadly mourned, there is something fitting that he died as Johnny Doyle of Celtic FC.

In the month that we remembered both the Prince of Goalkeepers and Celtic’s greatest-ever manager, let’s raise a glass to another fine Celt.

‘Farewell my darling Johnny, prince of players we must part.
No more we’ll stand and cheer you, on the slopes of Celtic Park’

God bless you, Johnny Doyle – gone far too soon, much-loved and sadly missed.

It was a subdued Cairn bus which headed through to Leith on the morning of Saturday 24 October 1981, five days after John Doyle’s sudden death, for the game against Bertie Auld’s Hibernian. The match itself reflected our mood, a dour struggle decided by two penalties either side of half-time, Ally MacLeod sending Bonner the wrong way whilst McArthur was the Hibs hero, stopping the spot kick from Nicholas then the rebound from McGarvey. It was the first league defeat of the season, a sad end to a sad week for those of us with Celtic in our hearts.

It was also the final competitive appearance in the Hoops for Willie Garner, who maintained a perfect record of three games, three defeats for his boyhood idols. If Johnny had lived the dream then poor Garner was experiencing his worst nightmare.

His Celtic career would be a gift to football anoraks, as he actually won two trophies with Celtic, whilst contriving to lose every competitive game he played.

Give in? Willie actually played in the Celtic team which won the televised National 5-a-side trophy at Wembley in November, beating Kevin Keegan’s Southampton in the final if I remember correctly, having earlier disposed of Manchester United. Young strikers Nicholas and Danny Crainie were in their element as we watched it on ‘Sportsnight with Coleman’, Willie McStay, John Weir and Peter Latchford completing the squad. The following May, he played in a Young Hoops side in the Glasgow Cup Final at Ibrox, although, true to form, Willie scored Rangers’ equaliser in a 2-1 Celtic victory. I cringe even now as I write this, at the poor man’s misfortune and pray to god he retained his sense of humour!

Billy had brought him from Aberdeen at the start of the season, knowing him well from his time there. He had partnered Willie Miller at the heart of the Dons defence when they beat Celtic in the League Cup Final some four years earlier, then moving down the pecking order as the young McLeish emerged as first choice under Ferguson. As he arrived at Parkhead, replacing Roddie MacDonald who moved to Tynecastle, I remember thinking that we had got the better of that deal. It was just one of those things.

Having dropped three points in two games after a perfect start, Celtic returned to winning ways at Broomfield on Halloween, Dom Sullivan, McCluskey and Burns on target in a scare-free 3-1 victory, Tommy’s sublime shuffle and chip for the third goal being the highlight of the match.

The following Tuesday saw another one of those special Eighties trips over the border to take on a top team from England, this time Bobby Robson’s fantastic Ipswich side at Portman Road, in a testimonial for Irish defender Alan Hunter. The current holders of the UEFA Cup and possibly the best team never to win the English title – they had been narrowly pipped by Aston Villa in the spring – they boasted the wonderful talents of Dutchmen Thissjen and Muhren, English internationalists Butcher, Mills, Gates and Mariner, as well as Anglo-Scots Brazil, Wark and Burley. A formidable side by any measure.

Celtic supporters made up around half of the 15,000 crowd, although, strangely, this was the only such occasion where the Cairn CSC, for whatever reason, chose not to run a bus down. The night itself was memorable for three reasons; outstanding vocal backing from the Hoops fans, a 45-minute floodlight failure which provided a career highlight for a flute band from Wishaw (you could not make this up!) and a fantastic attacking performance from the Bhoys, with the terrible trio of McCluskey, Nicholas and McGarvey all on target, as the Celts twice came from behind to snatch a 3-2 win at the death.

There was another thrilling game on the Saturday, as Celtic finally overcame their two-year hoodoo against Aberdeen at Parkhead, glorious strikes from McGarvey and McCluskey either side of the break rendering Strachan’s last-minute counter irrelevant. This would prove a pivotal moment in the season.

Davie Provan made a welcome return from a six-week injury absence for Celtic’s next match, a visit to Cappielow, Nicholas dropping to the bench. Charlie would come on in the second half to quickly set up the opener for George McCluskey, with Celts holding that slender lead as the game drew to a close. There was a dramatic finish, however, Bonner bringing down McNeil in the box to allow ex-Celt Andy Ritchie, a real thorn in our side throughout that period, to equalise with a last-minute penalty.

There was another point dropped the following Saturday, this time at home to Rangers, following an incredible opening spell. David Moyes continued at right-back in place of injured skipper McGrain, the youngster having a hand in all three Celtic goals, first setting up McAdam for a third-minute opener, then delivering a teasing cross for McGarvey to score with the most delightful looping header before heading down for MacLeod to complete the scoring at 3-3 with a vicious drive early in the second half. Rangers had equalised in the fifth minute through Dalziel, then took the lead with two quick goals from Bett and John MacDonald with the clock scarcely reaching the twenty-minute mark.

The short trip to Firhill provided the next test, Celtic passing with ease thanks to a fantastic McCluskey opener from fully 25 yards and a somewhat fortunate second from Provan after the interval. At the other end, Bonner earned his crust, keeping out a volley from Jags’ teenage striker Maurice Johnston. Then back home on the first Saturday of December, Dundee were comfortably put to the sword 3-1, thanks to a second-half McGarvey double, either side of a Mike Conroy strike, his last goal for the club. And to complete a successful day, Ritchie was at his mercurial best as Morton shocked Aberdeen 2-1.

This would prove to be the last League action of 1981, as extreme weather descended on Scotland. Having led from the opening day, Celtic remained in pole position, an impressive seven points clear of Dundee United, St Mirren and Aberdeen. With a game in hand, League Cup finalists United would be considered the prime threat from that posse. However, despite their defeat at Cappielow, most of us were convinced that the strongest challenge would again come from Ferguson’s Dons in the new year.

Table-topping Celtic ‘enjoyed’ an unplanned winter break following the victory over Dundee in early December, as the freezing spell continued through January. There was only a match at Ibrox to break the monotony, their undersoil heating allowing an instantly forgettable game to go ahead. The tone was set from kick-off, literally, McCluskey’s backwards pass to Nicholas penalised by referee McGinlay. Bett’s late penalty was decisive, following a foul by Bonner on Cooper and there was only one positive for Celtic, albeit a huge one, the return of skipper Danny McGrain after an injury-plagued few months.

Ten days later, Celtic suffered a major blow, Charlie Nicholas emerging from a challenge with Morton’s Joe McLaughlin with a broken leg. And unlike the old John Greig joke, this leg was his own! Ironically, he was only participating in the Cappielow reserve game to maintain his match fitness levels during the enforced fixture break. Now his season would be effectively over.

Continuing the Maryhill/Greenock theme, around the same time, Charlie’s next-door neighbour from his Wyndford days, Jim Duffy, finally gave up on his attempts to win a first-team place by joining Morton. Watching Duffy over the years – he also enjoyed tremendous success at Dundee and Falkirk – it always struck me that he was a better central defender than most/all who played in the Celtic sides of the time. It remains a real source of mystery and frustration that he failed to make the grade at Parkhead, often saving his best performances for games against us. Jim was the one that got away.

Following a series of friendlies, competitive football finally returned in the shape of a Scottish Cup tie against Queen of the South at Celtic Park. I was in the Front Stand, one of around 10,000 maniacs on a bitterly-cold day, to witness the first-team debuts of two highly-rated youngsters, Paul McStay and John Halpin. The winger would have an eventful day, missing an open goal then hitting the fourth and final counter late on, his only senior strike for the club.

By contrast, this was the start of a glorious career for the 17-year-old Maestro, who had first come to prominence two years earlier with Scotland Schoolboys, in a 5-4 victory at Wembley. The high expectations at Celtic for him were not misplaced.

The usual suspects of McGarvey and McCluskey were also on the scoresheet in a 4-0 win. However, by far the loudest cheer of the day was for Celtic’s second goal, a first in nearly three years for McGrain. Like JFK and 9/11, you tend to remember where you were when Danny scored a goal at any point in his fantastic career, one at Gayfield immediately springs to mind. It was the only flaw in his marvellous armoury, with the phrase ‘the Danny McGrain School of Finishing’, a well-used satirical putdown for poor strikers in my social circles, sadly mostly directed at Yours Truly.

Paul McStay would score his first goal for the club the following Saturday at Pittodrie, and what a goal it was, Celtic’s third in a brilliant 3-1 victory over our main rivals. We in the Cairn dutifully respected the official CSA ‘bhoycott’ of the fixture, Aberdeen not for the first or last time slashing our ticket allocation whilst things were going well for them. We then watched the TV highlights through gritted teeth, as the players celebrated in front of a packed Paddock End which included The Celtic Star’s Editor! McCluskey, from the spot, then MacLeod had earlier put Celts ahead, following MacMaster’s first-minute opener for the home side.

February was a hugely frustrating and disappointing month for Celtic, opening with a dull, midweek scoreless draw against Hibs at Parkhead, the game featuring another second-half floodlight failure, although most supporters seemed thankful for that, given the poor product on show. The only victory in that period came the following Saturday at Dens Park, Murdo at the double and McGarvey finding the net, before ’86 title hero Albert Kidd CSC replied for the Dark Blues.

It was Scottish Cup time again the next weekend, Celts getting the toughest possible draw, a return to Pittodrie, a fortnight after the excellent League victory at the same ground. Free from the constraints of boycott, we travelled north far more optimistic than was normally the case for such trips, on the back of three successive wins against Aberdeen.

But this would be the Dons’ day, a strangely subdued Hoops side offering little and falling to a Hewitt first-half goal, the youngster flicking the ball home following a corner. Hewitt was a fine striker and had a horrible habit of doing well against us, probably the main reason Billy brought him to Celtic in 1989. Sadly, he would never come close to replicating his Aberdeen form at Parkhead in his two-plus years at the club, failing to score a single goal in a paltry 21 appearances, as he fought against persistent injury problems. He was given a free in January 1992.

If there was any consolation in being knocked out of ‘our Cup’, perhaps it was the knowledge that full focus would now be on retaining our title. This was hardly in evidence in Celtic’s next two fixtures, a home draw with Partick Thistle, Celts needing two late goals from McCluskey and Aitken to salvage a point as incredibly boos rang out around the ground, then another single-goal defeat at Easter Road, cigar-toting ‘10.30’s Hibs making it five points out of a possible six against the defending champions.

March was much-improved, albeit with a low-key start, as a miserable 9,000 crowd turned up on an equally-miserable Wednesday night to watch Celtic beat Morton 1-0 with a late goal, McGarvey finally netting after watching both his penalty effort and rebound saved by ex-Celt Roy Baines. Earlier, George McCluskey had blazed a spot kick over the bar, with both awards courtesy of fouls by the returning Jim Duffy, doing his best to undermine my kind words above!

Two weeks later, Celtic looked in the mood at Love Street, striking four times without reply in a superb first-half performance to finish the contest by the interval, MacLeod, Burns, Sullivan and McCluskey all on target as they tore the Saints apart. The continued absence of Provan allowed Danny Crainie a first-team bow wide on the right and he did not disappoint, with the first of many good displays in the title run-in. Murdo added a fifth, sandwiched between a McDougall double, as Celts declared at 5-2.

It was less convincing at Celtic Park the following Saturday, Sullivan and Burns again amongst the goals as Airdrie were defeated 2-0, in a lacklustre display. Nevertheless, a true mark of champions is winning games whilst not enjoying the best of form, with another two points banked as we closed in on a second successive title, something not achieved since Jock’s side managed THE nine-in-a-row in 1974.

There was a rare big crowd at Parkhead for the next match, 30,000 in the ground for the final match-up with Ferguson’s Aberdeen. It was win-or-bust for the Dons, who somewhat stole the points with a fluke second-half goal from full-back Stuart Kennedy, his cross deceiving Bonner and sailing into the far corner. It was a day for missed opportunities for Celtic, with, for once, McCluskey the chief sinner, his late penalty driven straight at Leighton and rebounding to safety, a second successive spot miss.

That result cut the deficit at the top of the table to just four points, so the pressure was really on as we headed to Tannadice in midweek for a re-arranged fixture. On the ground where the previous April Celtic had clinched the title, this was perhaps the most important game of the season.

And Billy’s Bhoys (careful there!) did not disappoint, Burns scoring within 90 seconds then clinching a crucial 2-0 victory with another excellent effort late on. Whilst Tommy rightly grabbed the headlines, both goalkeepers would play a key role in the game, Bonner outstanding for Celtic whilst McAlpine tackled McGarvey outside his box as he raced to clear, the Celt then stretchered off with a fractured tibula, the second Hoops striker to suffer a leg break in two months. A vital win but achieved at a huge cost.

April kicked off down at Cappielow, with Crainie scoring a first senior goal just before the interval, the infuriating Ritchie then equalising early in the second period. Provan made a welcome return from the bench late on and was then named in the starting line-up for the visit of Rangers. McCluskey failed to recover from injury, meaning that all three main strikers were missing for this game, the emergency ‘Little and Large’ strike force of defender Tom McAdam and teenage winger Danny Crainie being called for duty.

And come to the rescue they did, Hoops-mad Danny making a dream debut in this fixture by scoring with his first touch in the opening minute, forcing the ball home at the far post after good work from Sullivan. Tom then played his part, heading home early in the second half – his third goal that season against the Ibrox side – as the makeshift strike duo came up trumps on the day. A late Johnstone volley was the solitary Rangers response, as Celtic took another huge step towards retaining their title.

As Cesar congratulated his patchwork side at full-time, many playing through injury, out of position or both, he would no doubt have felt some concern that whilst the championship was now tantalisingly close, there were still ‘eight cup finals’ to be won before he could claim that crown. In a season where so many of his key players had suffered serious setbacks, what would the remaining fixtures bring?

The title countdown continued at Broomfield, Celts running riot on the old ground for a 5-1 victory. McCluskey was back in the team, having missed the derby victory the previous weekend, celebrating his return with a fabulous effort early in the second-half, Celtic’s third of the night. Aitken had opened the scoring in the second minute with a header and the Bhoys didn’t look back, Crainie quickly netting his third goal in three games, Provan adding a fourth on the hour and young left-back Mark Reid rounding things off with a spot-kick for his first Celtic goal. It was an excellent team performance.

Three days later Dundee rolled up to Celtic Park, fresh from a midweek victory at Ibrox and making the perfect start with a Smith header in the third minute, a lead they held for the best part of an hour. The pivotal moment in the game was Celtic’s equaliser, a second successive penalty conversion from Reid, awarded for a high challenge on Burns despite Dundee protests. The Bhoys took advantage of the break to go in front within ten minutes, McCluskey nodding home following a corner and the game looked all over when Provan capitalised on a defensive error to make it 3-1 with just thirteen minutes remaining. However, Ferguson immediately pulled a goal back and it was ‘squeaky-bum time’ until McCluskey settled the issue late on with his second headed goal of the match.

Our mood was further lifted on full-time, as news came through of another Cappielow defeat for Aberdeen. So our lead had stretched to nine points, Dons having eight games left in which to close the gap, two more than Celtic.

In midweek, it was the turn of Dundee’s Tannadice Street neighbours to visit Parkhead. Again, only 14,000 were in the ground for such a vital game, incredibly disappointing by today’s standards but very much a sign of the times back then.

Celtic were in impressive form from the outset, the onslaught on United’s goal finally paying off just before half-time, as McCluskey continued his fine scoring run with a close-range finish. Chicken George, so-called after a character from the popular TV drama Roots if I recall correctly, then added a second after the break, beating McAlpine with a neat lob. However, the highlight of the night came with just ten minutes left on the clock, Provan curling an unstoppable free-kick high into the net to seal the points, despite a late Davie Dodds consolation goal for the Arabs.

It was Firhill for Thrills on the Saturday, 18,000 packed into the compact Maryhill ground to watch Danny Crainie’s finest hour, his second-half hat-trick giving Celts a somewhat flattering 3-0 victory against the struggling Jags, the woodwork and Bonner combining to preserve a fortunate clean sheet.

If we had rode our luck a bit against Thistle, then the May Day performance against Hibernian at Celtic Park was at the other end of the spectrum. Bertie’s team had been a thorn in our side all season, with two wins and a draw from three games, however, today belonged to Glasgow’s Green and Whites.

On Danny McGrain’s 32nd birthday, his great friend Tommy Burns got the party started after fifteen minutes, with a goal-of-the-season contender, twisting and turning before smashing the ball high past a bewildered McArthur in the Hibs goal. Three minutes later, man-of-the-moment Crainie kept his own tremendous scoring run going with an opportunist second.

Hibs were on the ropes and the Celts smelled blood, Aitken, McCluskey and MacLeod, with another double, taking the tally to six with half an hour still to play. Surprisingly, there would be no further punishment for the Edinburgh men, the 16,000 Celtic supporters happily leaving the ground to chant their anthems of triumph down London Road and the Gallowgate. With three games to play, two more points were required for two-in-a-row.

The first chance to grab these points and the title came just two days later, on a Bank Holiday Monday. Saint Mirren were the visitors to Celtic Park, having shipped twelve goals in three Love Street defeats earlier in the season, albeit winning the only previous meeting at Parkhead, 3-1 on Willie Garner Day.

I remember it as a miserable, rainy afternoon and, perhaps for that reason, we deserted our usual Celtic End spot for a seat in the stand. There was a healthy (by 81/82 standards) 27,000 crowd in the ground but the atmosphere was strangely tense, given the fantastic performance at the weekend.

Celts started where they had left off on the Saturday, bombarding Billy Thomson’s goal from all angles. However, it was proving to be one of those frustrating days, good chances going a-begging as players tried too hard to break the deadlock and the St Mirren defence settling comfortably into their task.

The crowd grew increasingly anxious and, as often happens, this made things worse rather than better. Long before the end, it was clear there would be no party in the Celtic Club that night. In fact, we almost lost both points right at the death, Bonner saving the day following a rare Buddies breakaway.

The goalless draw with Saints meant that the single point required could now be gained at Tannadice, scene of the previous season’s memorable title victory, the following Saturday. A huge Celtic support once again made the journey up to Tayside, full of hope and expectation, the gates closed well before kick-off as we crushed into the uncovered terracing behind the goal.

Always one of my favourite away grounds, despite witnessing quite a few defeats there over the years, there was a brilliant atmosphere as the teams emerged from the tunnel on our left into the sunshine and bedlam. Whilst this seemed to inspire the home side, on this day of days, Celtic failed to turn up. United piled forward continually from the off and the Bhoys struggled to muster any kind of resistance, the situation deteriorating badly as first Sullivan hobbled off injured then Hegarty headed the hosts in front within twenty minutes.

Counting our blessings at reaching the break still only one behind, Sturrock, a wonderful striker, soon sickened our happiness by firing in off the post within a minute of the restart. And when star striker McCluskey then limped off moments later, the ‘game was a bogey’ as they say. Defender McAdam was pushed forward to renew his earlier, successful partnership with young Crainie, in a desperate attempt to salvage a point. Sadly, only one more goal was scored, a third for the men in tangerine as Milne beat Bonner from the edge of the box with ten minutes remaining. A dreadful day all round.

It was an inquest rather than a party on the subdued bus journey back to Springburn. From a seemingly unassailable position just a week earlier, two successive opportunities had been passed up, the team appearing to have run out of steam short of the line. There was still a point to be won before the flag could be claimed and, worryingly, Aberdeen had continued to rack up the points and the goals, winning their games in hand to take Celtic all the way to the final game of the season.

In one of those fixture quirks so beloved by the football gods, the Dons’ final match would be against Rangers at Pittodrie, the Ibrox side having nothing to play for. Celtic would be at home to St Mirren, for the second time in a fortnight, having failed to win either of their two previous Parkhead meetings. Scary biscuits.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the media and the anoraks had a field day in the run-up to the Saturday games, looking at all the permutations which would prevent a second consecutive championship for Cesar’s Celtic. The more things change etc. It all came down to this; one point for the Bhoys would make them uncatchable, regardless of events at Pittodrie, whilst a win for Saints by a single goal and a winning margin of five in the Granite City would see the title return to Aberdeen. It couldn’t happen…could it?

The hype worked, as 40,000 fans rolled up to Parkhead that afternoon. From my stance in the Jungle, I have to say, it felt like there was that number in there alone. The atmosphere was electric, as the Hoops were urged for one more push. As with the previous game against St Mirren, there was tension in the air which inevitably would spread to the pitch. We eventually reached the interval, still goalless.

To this day, I firmly believe that this was the only title in history to be won at half-time. The news came through that Aberdeen were four goals ahead at Pittodrie, Hewitt with a hat-trick, Rangers ‘resting’ half of their first team ahead of the Cup Final against the Dons the following week. Anger at this turn of events changed into defiance, creating the most incredible noise, as Parkhead roared like the old days. As the teams ran back out, for the first time in weeks, I truly believed that this would be the day.

The volume is turned up as the Hoops go in for the kill, midfield trio Burns, McStay and MacLeod now controlling the game and it is only a matter of time. Cometh the hour, cometh the man, as half-fit George McCluskey takes a ball in and smashes it home with his left foot and ‘It’s lift-off in the Jungle’. The songs are still being belted out as McAdam nods past Thomson but sees it cleared off the line…or is it?

The referee looks across then makes a beeline back to the centre circle. It’s 2-0 Celtic. The place is absolutely jumping but Chicken George isn’t finished yet, another dazzling move from midfield ends with the striker burying a shot behind Thomson and now it is game over. The remaining fifteen minutes are a giant singalong, as we say hello to two-in-a-row, as relief turns to joy and it feels great.

There is a brief field invasion at full-time, then Cesar strides out with that look and grown men run for cover. Skipper McGrain is hoisted aloft Celtic shoulders and the trophy is presented on the pitch. There is a proper lap of honour in front of our own, this is how it feels to be Celtic on title-winning day. And we did it the Celtic way, McCluskey’s opener was the 100th goal in all competitions, despite season-ending injuries for main strikers Nicholas and McGarvey, despite missing the inspirational McGrain, Provan and MacLeod for months. This is also a title won by sheer guts, determination and courage.

And the youngsters have stepped into the boots of the stricken giants. Just as last season saw the emergence of Nicholas, Bonner and Reid, there are Bhoys doing men’s work in the shape of McStay, Crainie and Moyes. Some will go on to be legends, whilst for others, this was their moment in the sun.

This season has also been the peak for the Celtic youngsters of an earlier era, as McCluskey, Burns and Aitken perform at the absolute height of their powers. George is the top striker and goal-scorer in the country, at a time when the opposition is formidable, minus his two main partners for much of the time. Tommy has outshone his nemesis Strachan to become the best midfielder in Scotland, week after week identified as the outstanding player on the field by the reporting press and fans alike.

The Young Bear is now a captain-in-waiting whilst ‘bearly’ into his twenties, standing in for Danny through his injury absence with confidence and aplomb well beyond his tender years. They are ably supported by the survivors from the ‘Ten Men Won the League’ team, notably Provan, MacLeod and the legend McGrain. There is real disappointment when Jock picks only Danny and Davie for the World Cup squad heading for Spain next month. For me, Tommy and George, in particular, deserved to be on that flight.

From a Celtic point of view, there is much to look forward to next season. Nicholas and McGarvey will return to bolster the attack, stronger than ever, a mouth-watering prospect. The youngsters with this title-winning season under their belt, will be all the better for that experience. Billy is building a Celtic side that looks and feels like Celtic and we can identify with these players. We will be the team to beat.

Hail Hail!

Matt Corr