Celtic continued to attack with Joe Miller having a chance but United, always dangerous on the break, squandered a great chance when Bannon’s curved shot passed wide of the post. Thomson saved a shot from McAvennie, who was practically seated in the six-yard box such was his desperation to score. With the clock ticking down it was looking like we might need to go to extra-time. But then Celtic won a corner.
I can see this quite clearly in my mind’s eye. I don’t need to watch any video clips for this moment. Joe Miller’s low corner-kick, a diagonal ball on the ground, found Billy Stark who tried to divert it towards goal. The ball took a deflection and fell to the feet of McAvennie who slammed it home. It was surely the winner. Surely there was no time left. Surely, we had won the cup, and the Double, in our Centenary year. Surely this would be a day to remember for the rest of my life. Surely this was history. Oh. My. God.
United had a late chance. Another through ball and Kevin Gallacher is on to it again. He falls to the ground and the ball goes out of play. Penalty? I’m holding my breath and looking through my fingers but the referee points to the corner-flag. Ooft! This is getting too much now. I’m stressed out of my mind!
As the corner-kick comes into the Celtic penalty area, the referee blows the final whistle. It’s all over and we’ve done it. We’ve won the Double in our Centenary year!
It’s a sea of green and white. I’m hugging my Uncle Alex and we’re jumping up and down with sheer delight. He gives me a big slabbery kiss on the cheek and we look back towards the pitch to see the players celebrating. I draw breath for a second or two and puff out before smiling and laughing. I don’t know why I’m laughing, pure relief and release maybe, but I’m looking up and around the stadium and soaking it all in. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like this again, it feels amazing.
I mind it well… but I mind more the scary surge to get through the turnstyle’s before kick-off!!