25 May 1967 – 9.50am. For the first time in my life I can see what Glasgow looks like from above. My first plane trip gives me a chance to look down on housing schemes, shipyards and green hills. I will not be the only person on this plane flying for the first time. Summer holidays generally meant Troon, Saltcoats or Portobello if we were adventurous. I had been out of Scotland once before – a fortnight in a caravan in Devon but that journey was nothing compared this one of almost 2000 kilometres.

For the last 2 years or so I had been travelling all around Scotland watching my team, Celtic, in their quest for Scottish Cup and League Championship success. However even the trip to Pittodrie was merely a jaunt in comparison with a flight to the Portuguese capital.

As the plane levelled off and we settled down I thought how this journey began. I don’t mean leaving home at 6am this morning. Was it some 6 years or so earlier when I saw my first Celtic game? Or was it even before that? In fact I realised that, like probably many others on that flight, my journey to see Celtic try and become the greatest club in Europe had begun even before I was born.

On 22 July 1901 Michael Maher (my grandfather) paid his 1 pound fare in Dublin and set sail for Glasgow. He was 19 years of age. He had been born and raised in the small hamlet of Levitstown Mill near Athy in Kildare. Leaving school at 15 he worked for a short period in service of a local landowner and at the Mill itself. He then moved to Dublin and had been working in the Jacobs biscuit factory for around three years when he received news that his father had died. His father had been much older than his wife and now Michael was the main income earner. He had heard that work was to be had in the industry of Glasgow so decided to try his luck in Scotland.

Having lived in Dublin for three years he would not have been too unprepared for the grimy city he found when he got off the boat at the Broomielaw. However one thing would be different – here there would be a section of the local populace who would not be too keen on him and his religion.

Work did not take long to find. On 24 July he commenced at the Saracen Foundry in Possilpark. As well as employment he of course sought out accommodation and perhaps not unsurprisingly the company of fellow immigrants. They would have helped him with information on places to stay and meet his countrymen.

One of those places would have been in the East End of the city – Celtic Park. I don’t think my grandfather ever got too interested in the game of football itself but at Celtic Park he could at least converse with people who shared his beliefs and ideas. Like many of the early Celtic supporters he was in the Irish National Foresters. This was a Friendly Society which supported Irish nationalism.

Its constitution called for “government for Ireland by the Irish people in accordance with Irish ideas and Irish aspirations”. He was also a member of the United Irish League a nationalist party with the motto “the land for the people”. He soon became secretary of the Mossend branch of the League when he moved there to work with Caledonian Railways as a brake man at the local yards. The rest of his working life would be spent with the Railways.

In September 1901 he brought his mother over from Ireland and she lived with him until her death in 1908. In 1912 he married Mary Mulgrew at St Francis Xavier’s church in Carfin and they settled down in the area.

If my grandfather only had a passing interest in the game of football itself then that was not the case for his sons. First born in 1912 was Michael (of course!). He eventually went into the priesthood and I have obviously no memories or great knowledge of his youth. However my father told me he had been a reasonable player and also had played Gaelic Football during his years in Ireland. At a very early age he was enrolled as a member of the United Irish League and at this stage my grandfather was often to be heard at meetings in the Lanarkshire and Glasgow areas where he would give lectures and talks on famous Irish Nationalist figures and episodes in Irish history.

My uncle John came along in 1915. No idea if he played football but he was undoubtedly a Celtic fan. In my childhood I remember him talking about the players he had seen and games he had been at.

And he had a green budgie called Charlie Tully!

It was he who first took my father to the football. My father was born in 1918 and started going to see the Bhoys with his older brother from a young age. They saw some of the great names, and great games in Celtic history – John Thompson, Jimmy McGrory for example, they were at the famous Cup Final comeback against Motherwell in 1931 and they were part of the record 147,000 crowd at Hampden in 1937 to see Celtic triumph over Aberdeen. I don’t think my father was at Ibrox in 1931 when John Thompson was fatally injured but he certainly could remember the sadness of the following weeks.

His favourite player was undoubtedly Jimmy McGrory. By the time I was going to the football Jimmy was the manager although everyone reckoned he was not much more than a Bob Kelly puppet. However no one ever criticised him. People like my father remembered him as a loyal Celtic player whose goals got Celtic a lot of success. His favourite McGrory moment was a header at Fir Park from about 20 yards – although when he first told me about it the distance was nearer the penalty spot!

The youngest brother was Gerald, born in 1921. In a generally quiet family I found him the quietest of all. He had left home at 11 to go into a seminary and also gone to Cambridge University. Obviously an intellectual man but in my childhood and teenage years he appeared rather stern and aloof from our type of conversations. Imagine my surprise in later years to discover he had had a liking for fast cars and motorbikes and had been a footballer (goalkeeper) of some note.

He had played for Cambridge University including the big Varsity game V Oxford University which in those days was often played at Wembley Stadium. Not only that but he had majored in Irish history. So I was left regretting the conversations we could have had.

My father’s 2 sisters, Kitty and Eileen, were not particularly interested in football although Eileen’s husband was. Terry Brennan was quite a well-known character in the Glasgow licensing trade and was always a good contact for tickets. I don’t think Kitty knew too much about football but she could still talk about it if necessary when we visited on a Sunday. In those days Celtic were probably still more connected with and associated with the Irish Catholic community than they are now and Kitty’s main concern was not results – it was the behaviour of the fans.

When Celtic Supporters caused trouble it did not just reflect badly on a football club but a whole community whether all of that community supported Celtic or not.

Apart from going to watch football my father also played a bit. I have no idea about his football playing activities although I seem to recall him saying something about being a right winger. Certainly apart from Jimmy McGrory his two football heroes were Stanley Matthews and (in later years) Jimmy Johnstone. However thanks to Adolf Hitler all of my father’s football watching and playing came to an end and like lots of others he also missed out on properly enjoying some of the best years of his life.

He was only 21 when war was declared and he was soon called up. He joined the Cameronians. (I found out many years later that that regiment had originally been formed to fight against the Catholic faith). Like many he was reluctant to talk about his experiences but I did find out he had been a prisoner of war and had suffered terrible treatment and conditions.

At one stage his family was told he was missing, presumed dead, before he was located in a POW camp. Towards the end of the war when the Allies were approaching he managed to get out and was eventually picked up by an American patrol and shipped back to an American Military base in England. He was emaciated and in such a condition that when his father and brother came to see him they decided not to allow his mother and sisters to visit.

However he had such great physical and more importantly mental and moral strength that he recovered. In 1948 he joined, along with my Grandfather, the Anti Partition League. I suppose there was a bit of irony in that. After years of being in the British Army he was now in an organisation whose aim was to get the British out of occupied Ireland.

By this time he had met my mother – Alice Ryan. I do not know too much about her family but apparently her father – a miner from Castlecomer, Co. Kilkenny – who had died before I was born, had been a staunch republican.

As far as Celtic were concerned there was a family connection although my mother never really appreciated it. Once when she was a young girl she got the 44 Bus at Carfin on her way into Glasgow to do some Saturday afternoon window shopping. When she boarded she noticed her big cousin already seated so she went up and sat beside him. They chatted away during the journey until Parkhead Cross where he got off. After he had disembarked the conductress came up and asked my mother if she knew who she had been talking too.

My puzzled mother said “Of course I do – he’s my cousin.” “That was Jimmy Delaney” said the conductress. “I know” replied my mother still puzzled. She knew he played football but it had never occurred to her that other people would know him. Some years later Jimmy Delaney was the first Celtic Legend I met although as a young boy at the time I did not then appreciate the position he had held in Celtic history.

Two of my mother’s brothers – Eddie and James – were Celtic fans. Although Eddie moved to Dundee around the end of 1959 and for the next few years got his Saturday football fix at Dens Park or Tannadice. He was lucky as in that period Dundee had a great side and won the League in 1962. The following year Eddie became the first member of our family to attend a European Cup Semi Final when he was at Dens Park to see Dundee play AC Milan. I was a bit envious.

In 1963 you could not imagine Celtic winning a League never mind getting to a European Cup semi-final.

As in my father’s family my mother’s sisters had no great interest in football itself but they knew how much the game and Celtic in particular meant to the family and the community. My aunt Margaret did have to become more interested in Celtic when she married Peter Monaghan. My uncle Peter was a real Celtic man and even had a season ticket. Up until about 1990 he was the only person I knew who actually had one.

In those days season ticket holders were rare and probably related to, or descended from some of the earliest Celts. The 2 Monaghan boys, John and Brendan, were older than me and regular Celtic match attendees from an early age.

My parents married in 1949. Not wanting a fuss they went over to Ireland and had a quiet wedding with just 2 witnesses. The settings were not simple though. Mt Mellary Abbey in Cappoquin, Co. Waterford. My father’s brother, Michael, was based there having being ordained in 1939. He said the Nuptial Mass in the grand abbey in front of a mere handful of people including the organist who played “Moonlight & Roses”!

They stayed in Dublin for a while after they were married before settling down in a room and kitchen above a shop in New Stevenston. That is where I spent almost the first 3 years of my life. It was a very basic flat with a shared toilet on the landing and a tin bath for washing in. In 1953 we moved a bit up in the world – to Garrowhill, Baillieston. It was there that I spent my really formative years and it was to some degree because of that locale that I became a Celtic supporter.

Having explained my family background it might be assumed that I would have been a Celtic fan from a very young age. However my own journey to Celtic took a slightly longer path. During the 1950’s I knew virtually nothing about Celtic or the game of professional football. Of course I did know about football. You could not live in Scotland without being aware of football. But for me it was a game that was played in the street, in the school playground, in the park.

I only had a vague idea that crowds of people would go to watch others play the game. And we had other diversions and games too despite, or maybe because of, not having television. Our neighbourhood was full of young children and I simply had to go out the door and find someone to play with. Especially during the lighter summer months we could go out in the morning and come back at night with the odd visit back to the house for something to eat.

And back doors were rarely locked so we did not have to bother with taking a key. At primary school I had friends from all over Baillieston and either on foot or on bike we would travel all over the area. If we did go further afield the tram was an easy option especially during the school holidays when a penny special meant travelling as far as the tram was going for only one penny.

Saturday mornings were spent playing football in the park or going to the Odeon matinee in Shettleston or the baths. During this time I had no memory of my father going to see the Celtic. As Celtic Park was only a few miles away he must have gone to at least a few games but these were not always great times for Celtic and possibly he did not want to inflict any pain on me by telling me about them? Of course having three (soon four) children and a mortgage meant other priorities on the financial front.

He did have football involvement though. He helped run the Our Lady’s High School football team and he did take me to some of their games. One was at a large park with seats. I was not that concerned with what was going on on the field. I was more interested in running about the rows of seats with some other kids and consuming my bottle of Irn Bru and crisps that my father had given me before going off to be with the team.

It was some years later before I discovered that the “large park” was Hampden and it was not until 2004 on a visit back to Scotland when I caught up with Billy McNeill that I discovered the game had been the Scottish Schools Cup Final. So the first time I had seen Billy play was not in the green and white of Celtic but the blue of OLHS.

It was on 9 April 1960 that my life changed. By then we had acquired a television and that afternoon my father suggested I come in and sit with him to watch Scotland play England. I found it fascinating and exciting and was amazed at the vast crowd who were there to watch. We cheered as Scotland took the lead through Graham Leggat and groaned when England luckily (at least to us) equalised. However the result did not really matter to me. I had discovered a new and more exciting version of the game of football.

As soon as the game finished the street was full of kids kicking balls and playing impromptu games. Our schoolyard games too would change. Previously we had just kicked the ball around in the general direction of what was perceived to be the opposing goal. In one part of the yard there were two sets of drainpipes which we used as goals. However they were at separate ends of the same wall so our game meant dribbling and kicking in a U shape out from our goal and back round towards the opposition one.

However after we had seen that international match our horizons changed. The area of play was more defined with jackets or bags for goals at a reasonable distance apart. We even introduced corners. Shies were a bit different. On one side was the school wall. It was generally agreed that the wall was part of the game and a “pass off the wa’” became a perfect way of learning the 1-2 skill. The other side was a bit different as there was no immediate boundary. A shy was claimed by just picking up the ball and throwing it back in when you felt it had travelled too far away. Naturally the definition of “too far” depended on whether it was to your advantage to continue or not. Posts and crossbars were imaginary with a rough rule that if the goalie could not reach the ball with his arms fully extended then it was “ower the bar”. Defenders and attackers did not always agree on this rule!

If that Scotland v England match had introduced me to the excitement of football then another game a few weeks later showed me its artistry. I still was not too clued up on professional football so when I went to school on the morning of 18 May I had no idea what was happening that evening. In the line waiting to go into the classroom Joe Flanagan said to me “Are you going to be watching the European Cup Final on the tele tonight?” “Oh aye” I replied with no idea of what he was talking about.

“I reckon Real Madrid will win” he said. I had never heard of Real Madrid but when you are 9 years of age you are not going lose respect and credibility by admitting it so I replied “me too”.

By listening to others I found out that Real Madrid were playing Eintracht Frankfurt in the European Cup Final at Hampden Park that evening. As there were no floodlights at Hampden the game kicked off early and I watched the first 15 minutes or so before my father came home and joined me in front of the TV.

Watching the International the previous month I had been on the edge of my seat with excitement. This was different and not just because it was two teams who I had no connection with. On this occasion I sat spellbound, mesmerised by the football artistry on display especially from the team in all white.

I wish I had the literary skill to write about the impression this game had on me. It was like seeing a beautiful piece of art for the first time, or hearing a piece of music that stops you in your tracks. My mind was thinking if this is what you see when you go to a football game then I want to go to one. Of course I had never been to any major game before so maybe I thought that this type of performance was what you got at the likes of Shawfield or Firhill every Saturday afternoon. For older people like my father though it was a real eye opener. If this was football what the hell had he been watching over the last few years?

The next morning Real Madrid was the talk of the playground. Everyone saw themselves as Di Stefano, Puskas or Gento and the schoolyard seemed like Hampden. Real Madrid were exotic and glamourous with their superstars from Spain, Hungary and Argentina. You would never get a Scottish team capable of competing with them.

Although it was now summer football was still the main game in the streets. We did occasionally play a form of rounders but cricket was an alien idea. Now that we had TV we could watch Wimbledon and for a week or so our street became a tennis court. We fashioned racquets out of bits of wood and the conveniently sited cracks in the road formed the boundary lines. However such pastimes as these were temporary distractions. Football was the only game that really mattered.

And yet when the 1960/61 season started I was only vaguely aware of the fact. It was already a few weeks old when I noticed from the back pages of the Sunday Post that football was back in swing. I started to keep a scrapbook using photos that caught my eye in the Daily Record, Sunday Mail and the Sunday Post. Those newspapers along with the Sunday Observer were delivered to our door but that newspaper did not seem to have as much photos and the reports were a lot longer and used bigger words than in the other papers.

In addition to those deliveries we got the Irish Weekly every Sunday but that paper only seemed to mention 2 teams – Celtic and, to a lesser degree, Hibernian. These were fascinating names but so too were the likes of Queen of the South, St Johnstone, Albion Rovers, Airdrieonians, Heart of Midlothian. At that stage I had not yet identified myself solely with Celtic.

Those were more competitive times in Scottish Football. Teams like Aberdeen, Dundee, Motherwell, Hearts, Hibs, Clyde, St Mirren and even Falkirk were winning leagues and cups and many sides had international players. Although I went to a Catholic school only a few miles from Celtic Park my school mates claimed allegiance to various teams mainly because they had had more recent success than Celtic.

They were not actually going to the likes of Shawfield or Love Street or Fir Park but they identified with this teams who seemed more likely to win than Celtic. A few years later when Jock Stein arrived most of those boys would be on the terraces at Celtic Park.

The name Celtic was the one that did seem to crop up the most often though when I eavesdropped in on the adults discussions at the granny’s place every Sunday. The earliest memory I have of paying attention to a Celtic result was in the Sunday papers of 2 October 1960. The headline caught my eye – “Storrie book ending for Diamonds”

It told how Jim Storrie had scored in a 2-0 win for Airdrie over Celtic at Broomfield. A few days later came the moment that I remember as the first time I really took an interest in Celtic. My best friend at the time – Peter Dickson – was a Celtic fan and he told me excitedly that Willie Fernie was returning to Celtic. I did not know who Willie Fernie was or that he had even left Celtic in the first place but Peter’s enthusiasm rubbed off on me and on Saturday 8 October along with Peter we sought out the Celtic score as soon as we could.

A 4-2 win over St Mirren at Celtic Park. My Celtic supporting life had got off to a great start. It was even better the following week. Peter’s father – Danny Dickson – was involved in running the St Bridget’s Boys Guild team and on Saturday 15 October they had a big game away to the other top Boys Guild team of the time – Viewpark St Columba’s.

After the game we got on the team bus to take us back to Baillieston. The radio was on and we heard that Celtic had won 6-0 against Hibs at Easter Road. That night was the first time I recall seeing a Celtic game on TV. “Scotsport” had highlights of the game from that afternoon including an overhead kick goal from Stevie Chalmers.

Now I was really hooked and every Saturday would seek out the Celtic score. As far as watching football was concerned though that was mainly done at Maxwell Park with the Boys Guild. My first football “heroes” were guys like goalkeeper Jimmy McCarthy in his red sweater and centre forward Malky McKay. Peter Dickson and I often gave a hand to the running of the team. On Friday nights we would put “dubbin” on the balls and on Saturday mornings we would go down to a local woodworker and pick up a bag of sawdust.

This was then used to line the pitch for the afternoon’s game. In those days football was still the major form of entertainment for many people and even amateur games could attract a big crowd. It was not unusual to see at least one side of Maxwell Park full of spectators when the Boys Guild team was playing.

Now that I had “discovered” Celtic I found out that other members of my family knew about them too! My father, uncles and aunts would talk about them when we met at granny Ryan’s prefab in Newarthill. I must have had my ears closed all those years! My uncle Peter Monaghan and his sons John and Brendan were the ones I enjoyed hearing the most as they actually went to most of the games.

My other uncles on my mother’s side of the family were only occasional attenders in those day. I once asked my uncle James Ryan why he did not go to see the Celtic – His reply was that “they did not come to see me when I was sick!”

Obviously Celtic’s performances in those days left a lot to be desired! My father’s brother John was a regular attender at Celtic Park as were his two sons, my cousins Michael and Johnny. Anyway my family’s attendance at games did not matter to me by this time. I just wanted to experience it myself.

The 1960 festive season was an important one in terms of my football development. On Christmas morning I discovered my parents (or Santa Claus!) had got me the Scottish Football Book by Hugh Taylor. That book was to be a Christmas ritual for another 20 years.

On 31 December Celtic beat Kilmarnock 3-2 after being 2 goals down. I recall reading the newspaper report detailing how a new youngster – Charlie Gallagher – had scored the late winner. I was excited as Kilmarnock was a top team and challenging for the League title. (Later on I was not as thrilled as Killie lost out on Championship by 1 point to Rangers).

On the Monday 2 January I had my first experience of an Old Firm game. With 1 January being a Sunday the traditional Ne’erday game was played the following day. No live TV coverage in those days so as the family gathered round the TV set at granny Ryan’s that evening to watch the highlights we already knew Rangers had won 2-1.

The game was typical of Old Firm games of that period. Celtic would pour into attack and due to poor finishing had to be satisfied with only a 1 goal lead at the break. Celtic then had a goal disallowed and Rangers scored twice to win the game. I had yet to find out about the full background to such games but I realised then how much it meant to my family.

Complaints were made about the refereeing and my aunt Mary said that Celtic should put in a protest. At that time I thought that such an idea was quite feasible and that the match might get replayed!

I was in some despair after that game but a few days later came the moment I had been so looking forward to. Saturday 7 January was a cold day in the West of Scotland. I am not sure if the St Bridget’s Boys Guild team had a game scheduled or not but whatever when I went up to Peter Dickson’s that day his father told us there was no game on. He then asked us if we would like to go to Celtic Park to see the match between Celtic and Third Lanark. To say I was excited was an understatement!

I said I would have to let my parents know and raced back to my house to inform them. When I got there no one was home. I hastily scribbled a note saying I was going to see Celtic with Peter’s dad and left it proudly on the sideboard.

Peter’s uncle had a car and took us to Parkhead – I think there were 4 of us – myself and Peter and his father and uncle although Peter’s cousin may also have come along. I cannot remember how we got in although I suspect we were “lifted over” the turnstiles as was common in those days.

Anyway I was at last into Celtic Park and soaked up the entire atmosphere as we made our way to a position beside the fence at the side of the “Rangers End” beside the Jungle. My literary abilities are too limited to fully describe my emotions but I can still feel the atmosphere. The main thing that struck me was the colour especially under the floodlights. In those days there was no colour TV and newspaper photos were in black and white.

I knew Celtic played in green and white and Third Lanark wore red. But the colours were more vivid than that in real life. Celtic’s hoops were a brilliant emerald and Third’s shirts were a dazzling scarlet.

After 13 minutes John Divers scored the first goal I saw live. Thirds equalised a few moments later. Stevie Chalmers put Celtic ahead but Thirds equalised before half time. In the second half Jimmy Goodfellow got the winner for the visitors. (Many years later I wondered if any of the 22,000 crowd that was at that game could possibly have considered that in little more than 6 years Celtic would be champions of Europe and Third Lanark would be out of business!).

The result did not really mean that much to me. I was just happy to have at last got to see the Celtic in action. I went home excited and went outside with my brother Gerry to kick a ball about in the driveway while the snow that had been threatening all day started to fall.

For the next few weeks I followed Celtic through newspaper reports, TV highlights and news gleaned from family and friends. The scores were usually obtained from the tele printer on the Saturday afternoon “Grandstand” TV programme although we would sometimes find out from the first arrivals back in Baillieston after a home game. However I wanted more of the real thing myself. But how to get there? Celtic Park was only a relatively short distance away and easily reached by tram, but the feeling was that it was still not a place for unaccompanied youngsters.

My father did not seem that interested in going to a game and Peter’s father was mostly occupied with the Boys Guild team on a Saturday. On 11 February Celtic were to host Montrose in a Scottish Cup tie and Peter and I were desperate to go. The only thing we could do was simply go and not bother telling our parents. But of course we would need money for the tram fares and entrance money as there was no guarantee of a lift over.

We decided we would tell our parents we were going the Odeon in Shettleston and ask for pocket money for that. Phil Dolan joined us and it was his place we went to first. No problem there nor at Peter’s so all we had to do was tell my mother what we were planning to do and then off we would go.

I am not sure if my mother was suspicious or whether I just felt guilty but after I initially told her we were going to the pictures I then felt I could not continue and told her of our real plans. “Well I will have to tell your father about this” she said as she left the kitchen to go and get him. Peter and Phil both scowled at me. Now we were in trouble. Not only would we not be going to the game but the parents would be informed of our lies.

My mother returned a few moments later with my father. “So you were planning to go to Celtic Park?” he asked. “Yes” we replied somewhat morosely. “All right then” he said. “Let’s get in the car and go then”. There were a few seconds hesitation before we realise we were not going to be “shopped” but were actually going to the game – and without needing to spend money on the tram fare!

I cannot recall how we got in. My father would not have been able to lift all 3 of us over. I think he waited inside while we got in through the “Boys Gate”. However once inside he took all three of us into the enclosure in front of the Stand. This cost an extra sixpence but my father would have reckoned it was an easier place to keep an eye on us and also removed from any of the wilder inhabitants of the terracing.

And so I saw my first Scottish Cup Tie. We had a vantage point near the by-line at the East terracing and Celtic gained a corner there in the first minute. When the ball came over a Montrose defender deflected it into his own net so I had a clear view of my first Scottish Cup goal. Celtic won comfortably by six goals to nil and we all returned home delighted with our experience.

It was then I discovered my father really was a Celtic Supporter. I had no recollection of him going to games prior to that but he must have considering how close Celtic Park was. I found out too that he had been a founder member of the Carfin Celtic Supporters Club. Anyway his interest seemed to be rekindled and the Saturday following the Montrose game we were back in the enclosure at Celtic Park as he took me and my brother Gerry to see Celtic play Hibs.

The old enclosure disappeared years ago when the main stand was extended to include seating at the front. However it was a great vantage point as it was nearer the pitch than a lot of the terracing and was at a slightly higher angle. An extra benefit was that if you stood towards the rear near the front wall of the Stand the overhanging roof gave some shelter from the rain.

Hibs were back at Celtic Park a few weeks later for the Scottish Cup quarter final in front of a crowd of 56,000, the biggest I had experienced so far. I had to stand on tip toe for most of the match and was just able to see Stevie Chalmers net a late equaliser at the “Celtic End”. The Scottish Cup had more prestige then and as Celtic was as usual well out of the hunt for the Championship by then it represented the only chance I had to see my team lift a trophy.

A few weeks earlier there had been some good Scottish Cup news. Late one Wednesday evening my father came into the bedroom I shared with Gerry and told us to come down and see something on TV. That was something unusual especially on a school night. My mother protested but my father persuaded her that this was something important so she relented.

What we saw was the highlights of the Rangers v Motherwell Scottish Cup third round replay at Ibrox. Motherwell won 5-2 and my mother’s annoyance was quelled to some degree when she realised her cousin’s son – Pat Delaney had scored one of the goals. That was the first time I realised the enjoyment that a Rangers defeat generated.

Rangers’ dismissal from the Cup meant one less hazardous opponent for Celtic but we now had a replay at Easter Road to contend with. Again it was midweek so we were in bed although unable to sleep when the game was being played. No live TV or radio so it was late evening before my father came up to tell us the score. 1-0 to Celtic after extra time with a goal scored by a young reserve called John Clark.

We were into the Semi Finals where we were paired with Airdrie. Exciting times for a first season fan who could hardly wait for the big game. Before that there were other League games including one against Dunfermline Athletic who were in the other semi-final. For some reason I recall we were taken to the Stand for that game. Maybe it was the weather? Anyway Celtic game from a goal down to win 2-1.

The following Saturday, 1 April was the day of the semi at Hampden Park. However Gerry and I would not be going. My father had some other engagement that day and could not take us. At least that was the story we were told. It was a long time later before I realised his “engagement” was at Hampden. I think he was reluctant to take a couple of youngsters to the Hampden slopes with more than 72,000 other people.

The second half of the game would be on the radio though and my mother was told to make sure she put on BBC Scotland just after the 4pm news. However her technical ability was somewhat limited and we had to listen to another BBC station with a commentary from an English game with only an update of what was happening in Scotland! However we did discover that Celtic had a 4-0 win and as the opponents in the final were to be lowly Dunfermline surely my first season as a Celtic Supporter would be a successful one.

Before the final though there were more games to be played including my first “away” game at Dens Park. 
Considering the plethora of teams in the West of Scotland a trip to Dundee for a first away game seems a bit odd. However it was more to do with family than football. My mother’s brother Eddie Ryan had recently taken a management position with Timex who were based in Dundee.

He had bought a house in Broughty Ferry and family had an open invitation to call. In those days the journey from Glasgow was still a bit of an adventure. Especially to a kid. My father was an AA member and got from them a route map for the journey north. As navigator I got a seat in the front while my mother was in the back with the 2 other boys Gerry and Jim who was born in 1956.

It so happened that Celtic was due in Dundee on the last weekend of the Easter break. A game against Dundee on the Saturday and then United were to be the opponents at a non-floodlight Tannadice on the Monday afternoon, being the local Easter holiday. We would not be able to see the second game as we would be back at school. I was puzzled as to why Dundee had a different Easter from Glasgow!

Dad took Gerry and me to the Dens Park grandstand as a holiday treat. We were seated at the end nearest the bulk of the Celtic support in the 17,500 crowd just above the tunnel where the teams came out. A Stevie Chalmers goal gave Celtic a 1-0 win. I saw my first Celtic penalty in this game. A tame effort by Billy McNeill that Pat Liney saved. (Missed penalties were something I would have to get used to over the next 50 years or so).

I also witnessed for the first time the excitement on the Celtic terracing of a Rangers reversal. When the half time scoreboard announced Aberdeen 3 Rangers 0 the cheers from the terracing were long and joyous. My father was excited too and told us about a Cup semi-final some years earlier when the Dons had beaten the Ibrox men 6-0. That seemed incredible to us but on that day Aberdeen went on to record a 6-2 victory.

While we were in Dundee we learned that Celtic would have 2 players in the Scotland team for the following week’s game against England at Wembley. Billy McNeill had been in the original eleven and then due to Lawrie Leslie’s injury Frank Haffey would be in goals. We were happy to hear that but as any Scot of that age will remember Frank must have wished that the Airdrie keeper had stayed fit.

A year had passed since I saw that Scotland v England international on TV with my father. The Wembley games however were not featured “live” at that time. Indeed there were league games scheduled on the day of the game. Gerry and I listened to a second half commentary on the radio in our room. Scotland was 3-0 down at half time but scored 2 goals to bring themselves back into the game. We rushed downstairs to tell our parents the exciting news but by the time we got back up England had scored again and again and again and again – 9 times in all. That night’s Scotsport programme screened the highlights. Instead of the usual stirring introductory theme music the lament “Flowers of the Forest” was played instead!

That was all forgotten the following Saturday as at last we were going to the Cup Final. My father and my uncle John had splashed out and got wing stand seats for themselves as well as Gerry and me and our cousin Johnny. However my big day turned out to be almost a non-event. I had a bit of a cold through the week and on the day of the game woke up to discover it had really taken hold of me. To be honest I should not have gone but no way was I going to miss Celtic winning a Cup in my first year as a fan. I remember virtually nothing of the game which was viewed by me through a fuggy haze.

I do remember being in the back seat of the car as we made our way slowly out onto Aitkenhead Road. My father was concerned about Gerry in case the delay in getting home would upset his diabetic condition. He asked John to look and see how things were in the back seat. He replied that Gerry seemed fine but that “Michael looks terrible!” I gather the game had been reasonably entertaining with the Dunfermline goalkeeper Eddie Connachan making some great saves to ensure the tie ended goalless.

The replay was the following Wednesday. With Hampden having no floodlights in those days the match started around 6pm. That meant my father would not have time to go and therefore neither would I. We listened to the radio commentary that told of wave after wave of Celtic attacks. A goal had to come and so it did. Dunfermline scored after 67 minutes. After more futile Celtic attacks Dunfermline clinched the game with a second goal 2 minutes from time. I kicked the radio in disgust and annoyance. My father was raging at me – “if you cannot take a defeat then there is no point in supporting a football team”.

Although I was now into football spectating I had not given up the “playing side”. Games would “kick off” in the school playground before class in the morning. The score would be carried through to morning break, lunchtime, afternoon break and even after school. The lunchtime session was an important one being the longest break and the chance to build up a good score. My routine was to race home (a five minute run) throw back some lunch (which always seemed to be toasted cheese) and then race back to get involved as quickly as possible. If you could get as many as your players on the pitch as possible before most of the opposition had returned from lunch then you could build up a good score.

As well as the playground game we had also started a “street team” by the grand title of Baillieston Rovers. Replica strips were not in fashion then so we all wore different colour jerseys. Peter Dickson was the captain – he had a ball – and the squad was generally made up by George Weightman, Pat Thomas, Johnny Manning, Joe Flanagan and a few other floaters.

We played games against other similar teams in the area. Although most of the teams had a nucleus of regulars there was a good deal of flexibility in player registration. Our usual home was Maxwell Park and our regular opponents were Johnny Lynas’s team who played at Barrachnie – we often got the tram to that one!, Michael Roche’s team at Swinton and Gerry Miller’s team who played at Hillsburgh Park in Garrowhill.

There were no goalposts at that latter venue so jackets and bags were used instead. As our games were mostly 8 or 9 a side that was probably a better arrangement than playing on full size parks with full size goals! The Baillieston Rovers team kept going for a few years even into our first year at Secondary school. We even had a trip to Bargeddie!

Much as I loved playing football I now looked on myself as a Celtic Supporter and more and more Saturdays were taken up with going to see the Bhoys. At first it was in the company of adults either my father or Peter’s.

However as Celtic Park was only a short tram or bus ride away it was not too long before we started going by ourselves. It was 14 October 1961 that Peter and I first went to see Celtic by ourselves. The opposition was Stirling Albion. We got the bus from Baillieston to the bottom of Westmuir Street. We could have continued on to Parkhead Cross but by getting off where we did we not only saved a penny but could also call in to see Peter’s Auntie Betty who lived in the tenement by the bus stop. That meant we got some biscuits and a drink of ginger before making our way up to Celtic Park.

On that occasion we went into the Jungle for a spell but mostly we viewed games from the terracing behind the goals at the Rangers End. Although that was not a successful era for Celtic there were some entertaining and high scoring games. I recall beating St Mirren 7-1, Partick Thistle 5-1 and in particular a thrilling 4-3 win over Hibs on a wet muddy pitch. The rain that day sent us into the Jungle and we had a great view of Johnny Divers’ diving header for the winner.

Peter’s father and uncle would still take us to games when they were going too. They were football fans as well as Celtic supporters and would on occasion go to games not involving Celtic.

I remember being a bit envious on one occasion when I heard that they were going to drive to the “big game’ one day to see some genuine title challengers in the shape of Kilmarnock and Hearts at Rugby Park. They probably considered that too long a journey for us but they did take us to Firhill to see Partick Thistle play Kilmarnock on a day when Celtic were up at Dundee. That was actually the first time I had seen Kilmarnock in the flesh. As they were a team who was generally challenging for honours they often appeared on TV and in the newspapers but of course that was always in black and white.

When the teams came out that November afternoon I said out loud – “Kilmarnock wear red socks!” much to the amusement of the people around me. For some reason I had thought their socks were brown. At least that is how they looked in black and white!

I now considered myself a real Celtic supporter and over the next few years went to almost every home game and often went to reserve games when the first team was away. However they were not years that were particularly successful for Celtic. We never made any challenge for the title and although we did reach a couple of Scottish Cup finals we never lifted the trophy.

The 1963 Final replay defeat to Rangers was embarrassing and painful to witness.

By that time my life had changed. I was now attending Senior Secondary school – St Patricks High in Coatbridge and the family had moved to Bellshill. That meant Celtic Park was slightly further away but still easily accessible with plenty of buses from Bellshill Cross to Parkhead.

I was closer to the Lanarkshire grounds and if Celtic were playing away I could still get my football fix on a Saturday at the likes of Fir Park or Douglas Park.

There were lots of Celtic supporters of course at my school including a few among the teaching staff. Coatbridge was well known for its Irish connection (we used to call it the 33rd County) and there were lots of Celtic Supporters Clubs. We were faithful fans but need desperately something to change.

And in early 1965 it did.

To be continued…