“You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone” – and that’s the honest truth about life. Those seemingly innocuous and banal things that you do with regularity and don’t think twice about it; for many of us, Celtic is that very thing that is second nature to our social fabric and helps define the rubric by which our lives are designed and shaped by.
Watching our beloved Hoops play on a weekly basis is the lifeblood that runs in our veins – that natural adrenaline rush that never ceases to amaze us and gratify us in equal measure. It’s something that has been the reinforced source of love in my life and I have been fortunate enough to have shared so many wonderful moments with so many loved ones and dear, dear friends.
Sadly, I lost the main man whom I shared the vast majority of my adult life with watching the Bhoys strut their stuff; my Uncle Geordie. George Gillespie was his real name, but he acquired the delightful nickname whilst away up north on holiday when he was younger with my nana, and the young local lassies would ask: “is wee Geordie comin oot fur a walk”. And so the name stuck. He was our Geordie boy.
He was a delightful soul to be around; an incorrigible delinquent and never without a cheeky smile and grin, we shared some hilarious moments together on this earth before he passed last month. Humour was the thing that was held in the highest esteem between us – perhaps even more than Celtic, I would argue to a point. For we both felt that everyone took the world too seriously and that not to laugh in the duration of a day, was truly to deprive yourself of life’s nourishment.
We watched countless Celtic moments together throughout the years, often grabbing a beer on those glorious Title-winning days or Cup Final victories. There’s that many you can scarce remember them all, such has been our dominance in Scottish football over the past decade or so. We were together for mostly all of them bar a few. Geordie was my best friend, not just my uncle.
Sharing this love of Celtic we had together was truly a dream come true; a life fit for a King. Geordie boy passed at 51 sadly, but throughout his time on this planet he always loved watching Glasgow’s Green and White. Managing to see various sides through the years, he had his fair share of heroes. But one man stood alone to Geordie in the firmament of Celtic Stars; The Maestro, Paul McStay.
To Geordie, McStay encompassed the best of what Celtic was all about. Like our European Cup winners of 1967, McSaty was sheer class. However, McStay also happened to play in a Celtic team that won very little and his talent deserved more than what he got from football, let’s be candid. Although to Geordie, the fact that he chose to stay and win very little – but captain Glasgow Celtic knowing at one point he would probably win very little – meant the world to him. McStay had integrity. He was the real deal.
In a footballing world which makes one despair, as it sadly mimics in microcosm the avariciousness and self-serving society we now appear to live in, Paul McStay’s service to the Celtic Family was a beacon of hope for Geordie that not all the romance had been squeezed from football, by the constant overreach of the commercial sector into our beautiful game. Some still believed in miracles; that a team with eleven men from the same city more or less, could win the most coveted prize in European football. Paul McStay was an extension of that for him.
There’s many memories me and Geordie shared watching Celtic, but one that sticks in my mind right now is when we beat theRangers in the opening Glasgow Derby match last September at Celtic Park. We put on a show and hammered them 4-0, with Jota scoring the Goal of the Season, in my opinion. Geordie’s reaction to that goal will stick with me forever. He turned away and looked at me and my mate Crisy – with a look that seemed to just say OMG – and merely said: “Catch that, Rangers!”. We were in raptures. It was a classic Celtic moment and it will remain with me until the day I die.
This season will be hard – I know that. When something is a constant in your life and then it is rudely and cruelly snatched away, it can leave you in a state. Some days I don’t even know which way is up anymore. It’s par for the course right now and I know I’ll get there eventually. But the void Georide boy has left would swallow the Grand Canyon twice over. The Maestro Man has left the building and I will miss him sorely. My silver lining is that we didn’t waste a moment together. We lived life to the full and we were never more happier than when in each other’s company. He was a class apart.
I’ll have to walk this next part myself, but he wouldn’t want me to be self-pitying. He’d want me to walk straight with my head back and maintain the sacred love we shared for Celtic Football Club. And so, in that spirit, I promise to carry on what we started together and hopefully do it a little bit of justice.
Farewell, my Maestro Man.
My Uncle Geordie.
Paul Gillespie
Condolences to you and your family Paul. YNWA
Lovely tribute..
HH and YNWA
Condolences to you and your family Paul and what a great tribute to your uncle who I’m sure was a big fan of your writing on The Celtic Star. May he rest in peace
Lovely article Paul.
Thank you for sharing this and please accept my condolences to you and yours.
That’s a fine tribute to your uncle, Paul. May he rest in peace.
Well said – young fella
Mo chara, some people are irreplaceable, your only consolation is the abundance of happy times u had with your beloved uncle. I guarantee every time u revisit one of those it will conjure up a smile. Slàn Bosco.