After less than a two month break the football season is underway again. Close season breaks are a lot shorter than they were in my young days but there is still that feeling of excitement and hope when you get to see your team in action again.
The Covid pandemic and consequent travel restrictions have meant that it is now almost 3 years since I have seen the Bhoys in the flesh but the passion is still as it was over 60 years ago when I first set foot in Celtic Park.
It was a vastly different arena then. Like many kids I was taken by adults to my first game and got the traditional lift over the turnstile. We stood at the “Rangers End” of the ground. This was uncovered and the terracing steps were not always in the best of condition. At the back of the terracing was a large, black structure – the half time scoreboard. Sometimes we did go into the wee enclosure in front of the main stand but mostly our vantage point was behind the goals.
To our right was a covered terracing. My uncle, and a few others, sometimes referred to it as the hayshed but its common name was “The Jungle”. I never got an explanation as to why it was so called but with its relatively low roof and gloomy appearance I presumed it had something to do with being like ” the dark jungle” I’d read in the Tarzan books.
To our left was “The Stand”. I never heard it called anything else. Not “Grandstand” Not “Main Stand”. It was the only seated area so did not need a title other than The Stand to distinguish it.
At the other side of the stadium, behind the opposite goals from where we stood was “The Celtic End”. Those were not great days for Celtic but there would be singing from that end of the ground on occasions. As kids the Celtic End looked like, and sounded like the place to be. The fans in the Rangers End and the Jungle would of course yell their encouragement, and (especially it seemed the Jungle) their disapproval but it was the Celtic End where there seemed to be more passion in the voices. To our left the Standites always seemed a bit more reserved.
I have a particular memory of one sunny day at Celtic Park, standing in the Rangers End and hearing “On Erins Green Valleys” floating over from thousands of voices at the other end of the ground. Unfortunately, there were other, less savoury recollections. On at least one occasion I remember seeing the crowd at the Celtic End parting to reveal two antagonists throwing fists and punches at each other until the police came and dragged them away. The crowd then closed in again as if nothing had happened. That whiff of danger I suppose made the Celtic End even more appealing in a sense.
It certainly was the popular part of the ground. Attendances then were nothing like nowadays but there would often be kick off delays to let the crowds in. I can recall lots of occasions when an announcement would come over the loudspeaker to tell people queuing at the “Railway End” (the “official” name for what everyone called the Celtic End) that there were empty turnstiles at the other end of the stadium and from there they could make their way to any part of the ground.
For us boys though, even when we started going unaccompanied by adults it was the Rangers End. We did occasionally stray into the Jungle if the weather was on the rainy side. However, considering the number of holes in the roof there was no guarantee of staying dry. And if the rain didn’t get you the flakes of rust falling from the dilapidated structure would.
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Although Celtic won nothing in my years at the Rangers End there were some great games including the exciting European run in 1963/64 which saw us get to the European Cup Winners Cup semi final…and it should have been the Final!
However, by the time we were 14 we were hankering to experience the excitement of the Celtic End. We finally made it in October 1964 almost exactly 3 years to the day that my mate Peter and I had gone to our first unaccompanied game against Stirling Albion. The opponents this time would be Morton and that was the excuse we had for venturing to the Celtic End.
Morton had taken the old Second Division by storm over the previous two seasons. Their entrepreneurial manager Hal Stewart had brought in players from Scandinavia – a real novelty in those days. They had exciting players like Joe Harper and had been attracting crowds well in excess of the norm for Second Division grounds. They had won promotion the previous season. They had given Celtic a close run in the League Cup Semi Final and were expected to bring a good-sized support.
And that was our reasoning in abandoning our usual spot. Apart from Old Firm games there was no segregation in those days. We were used to being close to visiting fans at our stance in the Rangers End. The Jags, Dundee, Hearts usually brought a good support along and I recall on one occasion spending the game in the company of some Aberdeen fans and being envious of one lad not much older than me who had told me of his experience travelling around the country following the Dons.
Morton would be different apparently. According to Peter the Morton fans were a lot wilder than we had previously experienced. Shipyard workers who would be armed with rivets and even knives. So we convinced ourselves that it would be better to head for the Celtic End. We did not tell our parents that though. They would have not as been as convinced that the inhabitants of the Celtic End were more genteel than the Greenock visitors!
Despite it being a night game there was a crowd of 35,000 at the match, only the visit of Rangers attracted a bigger league attendance that season. As it was we only dipped our toes in the West Terracing, contenting ourselves with a spot in front of the floodlight pylon on the Jungle side of the ground. However now that we had experienced the passion and noise a bit closer there was no going back and from now on our spot would be in the middle of the Celtic End as part of the “choir”.
The repertoire in those days was slightly different from more recent times. “Sean South of Garryowen” and ” A Soldiers Song” would be recognisable to modern fans as would be the “Celtic Song” which was in its relative infancy then. “Hail Glorious St Patrick” which is only heard on very odd occasions now was a main standard in the early 1960’s. However the present day songsters might be surprised to know that the Celtic fans also had then their own version of “Follow, Follow'”. And in the way that the Rangers fans always segued into “The Billy Boys” from their “Follow, Follow”, the Celtic fans had, to the same tune- ” a 1, a 2, a 3, a 4 a 5″. This was apparently in reference to a 5 goal victory over the Ibrox men in some game that nobody could actually recall.
In the 1960’s it was hard to imagine any Celtic victory over Rangers let alone one that was achieved by a 5 goal margin.
Actually we had beaten Rangers in a league game at Celtic Park a month or so earlier. That was my first experience of a league win against the Ibrox side. The last one had been 7 years previously, at a time just before I had got really interested in senior football.
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I was not at that victory in September. Old Firm games were still considered too “high risk ” by my parents for me to attend. Instead I got my football fix by going out to Douglas Park to watch the Lanarkshire Derby between Hamilton Accies and Albion Rovers. After the half time scores were announced though I had difficulty concentrating on the game on the park in front of me. Celtic were leading Rangers 1-0. Maybe this time we could hold on and actually win.
No internet in those days of course and I had no transistor to check with. Anyway part of me didn’t want to hear any updates. No news was good news. The longer I heard nothing the longer it was still 1-0 to Celtic. Coming out of the ground I thought I heard someone mention that Celtic had won but it was not until I got home I found to my delight we had won 3-1. For the first time I could sit down with my father and brothers on a Saturday night to watch Scotsport and Sportscene and see highlights of a Celtic win in an Old Firm game!
As we had also qualified from our League Cup group for the first time in my personal Celtic Fan lifetime hopes were high that the good days were here again. However, at the end of October Rangers beat us in the League Cup Final and our League form dipped. There was not much to sing about!
Crowds had dwindled and were generally under 20,000. A Boxing Day fixture with Motherwell as visitors saw less than 10,000 bother to turn up. I recall playing Hearts in the January of 1965. Bertie Auld had just rejoined from Birmingham City and that news plus a good away support whose team was topping the league meant that 21,000 were in attendance, one of only 6 home league games that season where the crowd exceeded the 20,000 mark.
A couple of weeks later though we had news that would change our lives! Saturday 30 January 1965 was bitterly cold with snow and ice covering the streets. Lots of games were postponed but Celtic Park had been covered with a blanket of hay and when this was lifted the pitch was deemed playable for the visit of Aberdeen.
The funeral of Winston Churchill was held that day and the players wore black armbands, which led to an incident I recall to this day. Another thing I remember about this match was that it was one of the few occasions I swopped ends at half time to be behind the goals Celtic were attacking in each half. As the crowd would have been less than 15000 there was no problem in making my way through the sparsely populated terraces.
I was rewarded by seeing an 8-0 win with Big Yogi netting 5. At one point Celtic were awarded a throw in on the Jungle side very close to the corner flag. Bertie Auld picked the ball up but then noticed his armband had come loose. He obtained the assistance of the linesman who successfully managed to tie it back around his arm. While the official was doing this Bertie had put the ball at his feet and casually rolled it a few paces into the corner arc. When play re-started he crossed the ball as a corner rather than the actual thrown in!
It was the following day that the great news arrived. Jock Stein would be taking over as the Celtic Manager! I had no doubt our fortunes would improve.
The following Saturday I boarded my first football special. Apart from a game at Dens Park when we had been on holiday in Broughty Ferry the only away grounds I had seen Celtic play in had been very local- Hampden, Ibrox, Firhill, Shawfield, Fir Park, Broomfield.
Love Street in Paisley was hardly an epic journey but there was still a sense of adventure as Joe McCormick and I got the train from Glasgow Central to Gilmour Street. Of course, we would go on to win the Cup that season but the atmosphere at the remaining league games was still rather grim with the realisation that we were going to finish around mid-table.
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Illness saw me pretty much confined to bed for several weeks so I missed the Cup quarter final win against Kilmarnock along with the first couple of Jock Stein’s league games. I was at the last 3 home league games in my now usual spot at the Celtic End but not many others were sharing my enthusiasm.
With Big Jock using the games to see the players he had inherited, and tinker with positions and tactics Celtic’s last 6 games resulted in only 2 wins and 4 losses which included a 2-6 thumping at Brockville and a 1-5 thrashing at East End Park.
On 3 April I witnessed Third Lanark’s last ever visit to Celtic Park. Not much more than 4 years earlier my first ever Celtic game had seen a quality Hi Hi side win 3-2. Now they were in their death throes, well adrift at the bottom of the league where they would finish with only 7 points.
Celtic were not much better that day. It was a dreary affair with the fans letting the team know how dissatisfied they were. As it was a sunny day lots of us sat down on the terracing, the meagre crowd meaning that there was still no problem viewing the “action”. An own goal by ex Celt Dunky McKay at least saved Celtic’s blushes from dropping points to the cellar dwellers. Three weeks later though it was a very different story. With Mick Boyle and Frank Weldon I got a football special to Hampden to see the Bhoys at last win a trophy- a 3-2 win over Dunfermline. The Celtic End would be a more exciting place from now on!
The 1965/66 season kicked off with a League Cup sectional game at Tannadice. My uncle Eddie was living in Monifieth at the time so I got the train up on the Friday and went with him to the match on the Saturday. The first home game was the following Wednesday against Motherwell. My brother Gerry and I set out to Bellshill Cross to catch a bus to the game but with a combination of the size of the queue and the lack of buses we were beginning to panic about getting to the ground on time.
Just then a large van stopped beside the bus stop. A guy jumped out of the front passenger seat and shouted ” anyone fancy a lift to the game jump in the back.” A few of us stepped forward and the back doors of the van were opened. Inside were already dozens of bodies holding on to anything they could, or seated on the floor. Health and Safety was not so much of an issue then so we scrambled aboard and swayed and bounced our way to Parkhead.
We made the kick off but just satisfied ourselves with taking a stance at the Celtic End near the pylon at the Janefield Street side. The crowd was around 32,000. Not only was it bigger than most games in recent seasons but you could sense the new atmosphere. Hope had replaced despair.
It was a few days later at the home game with Dundee that I really sensed how much things had changed. I went to the game a bit earlier than usual and took my spot in the middle of the Celtic End. Entering the Celtic End Terracing was different from the Rangers End of the ground. There it was case of climbing up the steps and then making your way back down the terracing to your particular vantage point. At the Celtic End the terracing was cantilevered meaning you could walk under it and then enter the terracing at the midway point through several entry/exit ways.
Our spot was right in the middle of the Celtic End. Walk down a few steps and then into the right. On that Saturday I was in well before kick off and could see the crowd building up. Next to arrive was Danny Gallagher but by kick off time there was a fair number of St Pat’s pupils there, some in their green school blazers which we knew greatly annoyed the school rector! As it happened Dundee won the game but that did not really deflate us – we knew Big Jock would sort things out.
And of course he did. The next few years were the most glorious in Celtic’s history. It was a great time to be young and able to get to see the Bhoys in action every week. And there was no better place to enjoy it than in the middle of the Celtic End with the songs and passion.
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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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By the early 1970’s “You’ll Never Walk Alone” has become established as a main part of the Celtic repertoire. I have sung it at European games myself and there is no doubting how it helps the atmosphere but for grumpy old traditionalists like myself I prefer songs that are more obviously ours rather than copied from another support.
Much as it is now a Celtic standard my first thoughts on hearing it are of that night at Anfield in 1966 when we were (unfairly) eliminated from the European Cup Winners Cup.
One game I vividly remember from my Jungle days was the European Cup Semi Final with Atletico Madrid in 1974. We were quite near the front of the Jungle at the Rangers End side. It reminded me of the Racing Club game at Hampden in 1967. The Spanish side were worse. They had absolutely no intention of doing anything other than try and kick Celtic off the park.
We had a good view of the action but as well as the blatant fouling there were all the underhand tactics – sly kicking and spitting. The fans were enraged but generally kept their cool and their anger was displayed in words more than action. The following day at work a Rangers fan (of the “upper class” bigot type) admitted that he had been impressed by the Celtic fans and thought that if it had happened at Ibrox the pitch would likely have been invaded.
As I spent the most of 1975 and 1976 in Auckland it would be a while before I returned to Paradise. My Kiwi girlfriend (now wife) followed me back to Scotland shortly after I returned just in time for Christmas 1976. As a Christmas present I took her to Celtic Park on Boxing Day for a top of the table clash with the strong going Aberdeen who had recently beaten Celtic in the League Cup Final. Unusually for those days the Stand was all ticket but I thought that might be the best place for a first time female attendee so forked out the grand sum of 3 Pounds for 2 tickets.
We had a great view of an exciting game that ended 2-2. As the match ended I said to her “Well, what did you make of that then?” Her reply was ” I thought the Aberdeen goalkeeper’s shirt didn’t match with the rest of his outfit!”
It was back to the terracing for me though after that game. It was a bit of a nomadic existence to an extent as I had a couple of different spots in the Jungle depending on who I was going with.
However, that experience in the stand made me think about more comfort at the football. And it was not too long afterwards that I started becoming a stand regular. I had met up again with a former work colleague – Terry Crossan – who had been a regular attender at all Celtic games before he had moved to England. He was now back in Scotland and by this time I was living in Mt Florida. Terry introduced me to some of his mates who drank in Heraghty’s ( a couple of the guys also worked as bar men there).
They all viewed the games at Celtic Park from the Stand so I joined them. I had now come full circle. Some 15 years earlier my stance had been to the right of where I was now sitting. I had become one of those “reserved Standites!” I felt I still had the same passion as I had in the glory years but was now content to let the others do the singing. From our seats we had a great view of the Jungle. The inhabitants of that part of the ground were the first to spot the teams in the tunnel and we knew kick off was near as the singing got that bit louder and more scarves were raised.
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My favourite song from that era was “Sailing”. It had the right rhythm for group singing and even to this day when I hear it I immediately see in my mind all the scarves raised in the Jungle.
I was back in Auckland, this time on a permanent basis in 1983. I managed to get back in March 1988 for a couple of months to catch the tail end of the Centenary Season. I managed to get to all the games in that period but could not get into the stand. In the latter part of the 70’s and early 80’s there had never been any problem in getting a seat in the Stand.
Apart from the Rangers games and sometimes the Aberdeen games there was no need for tickets. For most home games I would leave my house in Croftfoot just after 2pm, drive to the bottom of the Springfield Road, park the car, walk up to the ground, pay my money at the turnstile and be in my seat in plenty time for kick off. Even though our group was generally around 8 strong there was rarely difficulty in getting seated together.
In 1988 it was different. The excitement of the Centenary Double being so near meant much bigger crowds and getting into the stand proved too difficult. For most of the games I ended up in the Celtic End. I went to that spot in the middle of the terracing where I had stood with so many school friends around 20 years earlier. Part of me was hoping that some of them would have the same thoughts as me and I would be reacquainted with some long-lost friend.
Alas no. But I did enjoy being on a packed terrace again.
As it happened that would be the last time I had the experience of standing at Celtic Park. I did make a brief return to Scotland late in 1990 for my father’s funeral. In that period though Celtic only had a couple of away games so I got to Easter Road and Tannadice but another 10 years would go by before I would set foot in Celtic Park.
And when I did return in 2000 for a few weeks the place was almost beyond recognition. Only the facade of the Main Stand had any similarity to the stadium I had known. We had a walk around the impressive perimeter before my brother Jim and I made our way up the many stairs to our seats in the second back row in the middle of the North Stand. It was some climb but what a view. Not only of the countryside and skyline in the distance but of the game itself. Much as I had loved the old Celtic End it was a bit away from the action on the pitch and did not have a particularly great incline for viewing the other end of the park.
I have been lucky enough to have made the journey to Celtic Park several time since then. My first visits covered barely four miles and the expenditure of four pence. Now it is a case of 18,000 kilometers and at least a couple of thousand dollars. And it takes a lot longer. What was once at most a 30-minute journey is now over 30 hours.
My youngest son’s first Celtic game was in 2010. We left Auckland at 8pm on a Friday night. Around 27 hours later we touched down in Glasgow. (11.30am local time). We dropped our bags at my sister’s place in Milngavie then got the train to Bellgrove and walked up to Celtic Park just in time for the kickoff v Inverness Caledonian Thistle.
Covid has meant planned visits in the last couple of years have not been possible and as the years fly by time for such long journeys is running short. However hopes still high for another chance to return to the Paradise (although a much changed, and improved, one) I first entered over 60 years ago.
Mike Maher
