Mike Maher reflects on over 60 years supporting Celtic

Big Jock’s arrival also coincided with some changes in society attitudes. The old establishment was being challenged. The ‘Swinging Sixties’ had arrived. Hair was longer- skirts were shorter. People were not just as willing to accept the old order as before. The SNP won a seat in Parliament. The Belfast West seat in Parliament was won by a Republican Labour candidate. For us of course the most important challenge was seeing Celtic bring in an end to the reign of the “establishment” team – Rangers’.

In the 1960’s there had also been a bit of a revival and upsurge in the folk music scene. As well as going to Celtic Park, several of us were going to concerts to see the likes of the Clancy Brothers and The Dubliners. And this was reflected in the songs at Celtic Park. As well as the traditional songs we were now hearing things like the “Wild Rover” and the “Holy Ground”(with thousands belting out “fine girl you are”!) In 1966 “The Merry Ploughboy” made its way into the repertoire. By this time “follow, follow” had disappeared from the Celtic Songbook and would from then on only be associated with Rangers.

Compared to modern times there was not as much colour on the terraces, and banners were very simple compared to today’s tifo displays. Replica shirts were still some decades away and many men wore a suit, shirt and tie to the game. Scarves were very often a dark green. Splashes of colour came from the flags, mainly the Irish Tricolour. For a few years there was also flags in the design of the Union Jack but with Green, White and Orange replacing Red, White and Blue.

What was lacking in colour was more than made up for by noise and passion. Although the Celtic End terracing was further away from the pitch then, you could often feel the passion of the crowd sucking the ball towards the goal. The European Cup Semi Final with Dukla Prague was a case in point. Attacking the Celtic End in the second half Celtic won a free kick at the edge of the box.

A deafening chant of “CELTIC, CELTIC” came from thousands of voices behind the goal. As the noise intensified Viktor, the Dukla ‘keeper, turned his head behind him wondering if the crowd was getting nearer him. It was only a brief moment but enough to distract him while Bertie Auld slipped the ball to Willie Wallace who slammed it into the net. So as part of the Celtic “choir” I played my part in Celtic’s European Cup run!

All good things do come to an end though. As the years went past many of the “St Pats Brigade” started to drift away. Getting older meant changes in social and job commitments. A few moved to other parts of the country. And Celtic were beginning to pay a bit of a price for their success. I began to see guys who, a few years earlier just went to every game, were now picking and choosing matches to attend.

Also by the earlier years of the 1970’s some of the “choir” had started to drift into the Jungle realising that with the TV gantry now directly above the middle of that enclosure the songs could be more easily heard on television. And whereas in 1963 the “young team” had aspired to the Celtic End by 1973 the latest members of that squad were looking to the Jungle as the place to be.

By that time I was attending a few games in the Jungle myself. Some new friends I had made since leaving school favoured the Jungle so I sometimes met up with them. Their spots tended to be at either end of the Jungle, not in the middle beside the more fervent fans. I was never really comfortable in the Jungle. I had always liked viewing a game from behind the goals. At away games in days before segregation we would generally opt for a spot behind one of the goals.

Also I was getting older. The voices in the new choir seemed higher pitched – I’d never be able to get up to any of the high notes! And being a bit of a pedantic traditionalist some of the new chants did not appeal to me. By the early 70’s “the Troubles” in the Six Counties had escalated. I had never had an issue with the so called “rebel songs” but now we were hearing chants and songs that seemed inane to me. To me anyway singing the “Merry Ploughboy” or “Seán South” was a lot different (and better) than IRA-all-the-Way, stuff. On one occasion Big Jock thought so too and climbed into the crowd at a game at Annfield to remonstrate with fans who were making such chants.

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