My defining Celtic moment – the Scottish Cup final of 1988. Here’s how we got there….
This weekend saw the ties for the Third Round of the Scottish Cup taking place across the country, as the famous old competition marks its 150th anniversary. This is the stage when the teams from the Championship and League One – including a host of previous winners – join the fray, all hoping to progress to the Fourth Round and the possibility of a plum tie against a Premiership giant and the chance to make some history.
And in the Scottish Cup dreams can come true and they have this evening for the Highland League’s Hoops Buckie Thistle who have been draw away to holders Celtic in the Fourth Round.
Holders Celtic have had an incredible relationship with the Scottish Cup over the years, and that goes all the way back, the Bould Bhoys reaching the final in our first-ever season in 1888/89 – losing 2-1 to Third Lanark – before securing it as our first major trophy in 1892 with a comprehensive 5-1 victory over the Kings, or should I say Queens, of the Scottish Cup in that era, Queens Park.
My defining Celtic moment – the Scottish Cup final of 1988…
Reaching the Scottish Cup final during our Centenary season of 1987/88 was fantastic, and I had a feeling that something very special was about to happen, something to remember for years to come and to share with future generations.
As a 15-year-old kid, I was already learning everything I could about Celtic and the history of this great football club. I was fully immersed in the club and had a great love for all things Celtic. I wasn’t to know it at the time, but the Scottish Cup Final of Saturday, 14 May 1988 was to become my defining Celtic moment.
My Centenary season started with a home win over Hearts in a midweek fixture under the lights at Celtic Park. Even though it was August, the floodlights were required on a dull, wet night in Glasgow. It took a late winner from Mark McGhee to seal a 1-0 victory for the Bhoys.
This particular game is clear in my mind for two reasons, firstly that I went to the match with my Uncle Alex, which was not common practise at that time, and secondly due to ‘the old fella’ next to me who clearly had some hearing difficulties. As the crowd chanted the name of the goal scorer, “Mark McGhee, Mark McGhee, Mark McGhee,” the old boy asked me why the fans were singing, “Aberdeen, Aberdeen, Aberdeen!”
Another popular if not ‘pc’ chant celebrating the scorer that night was, “He’s fat, he’s round, he’s worth a million pounds, Mark McGhee, Mark McGhee!” That certainly added to the feeling of euphoria following McGhee’s late winner, not to mention much hilarity amongst the fans around me in the Jungle. Fittingly, I attended my first match of the season with my Uncle Alex and, not known to me at the time, I would attend my final match of the season with him also, the 1988 Scottish Cup Final.
Celtic’s journey to the final was not quite as straightforward as I would have liked, the Hoops struggling to overcome Second Division strugglers Stranraer in the Third Round in a 1-0 home victory on Saturday, 30 January 1988, thanks to Frank McAvennie’s early goal.
Indeed, Stranraer almost grabbed a late equaliser when Bruce Cleland’s shot struck the bar with an open Celtic goal at his mercy, his last action as a senior footballer. Poor Cleland had earlier seen his penalty kick saved by Pat Bonner. A case of ‘what might have been’ for him but at least we were through.
Our Fourth-Round opponents were Hibernian at home on Sunday, 21 February 1988, a match which would be shown live on the BBC. I went along to this match with my dad and for some reason he wanted to take a seat in the Main Stand, so despite my appeals to go to one of our usual spots in the Jungle or the Celtic End, he was insistent and the Main Stand it was.
To soften the blow, quite literally, he hired some padded cushions that you could place on your seat that day. I’ve honestly never seen those before or since but despite the comfortable seat, the match wasn’t the greatest with a ‘huff and puff’ 0-0 draw being the outcome.
Frustratingly, the crowd in the main stand seemed more interested in waving for the benefit of the TV cameras (Hello Mum!) than in watching the action any time the ball was on our side of the pitch. This got on my nerves no end. Just watch the match!
Three days later, we were off to Easter Road for the replay. I had joined any old line in the queue for tickets at Celtic Park prior to the replayed fixture, not really paying attention to the fact that I was in the queue for enclosure tickets. Not the most comfortable area of the Edinburgh side’s stadium but at least we weren’t sitting down again!
It was with some hesitation that we travelled over to Edinburgh that evening. My previous visit back in November 1987 had been filled with fear as the match – not designated as all-ticket – attracted a huge crowd, and way more than capacity was inside the stadium that day, in my view.
The frightening experience was further compounded by trouble on the terraces and the throwing of a CS gas bomb into the crowd, resulting in people spilling on to the pitch and a general sense of panic. For a 15-year-old, who was “looking after” my younger cousin Kevin that day, it was pretty terrifying but, of course, I played it all down. It was no big deal, and, in any case, Celtic came away with a 1-0 victory thanks to a goal from Frank McAvennie.
It was a similar kind of evening again, in front of an all-ticket 24,000 crowd, but without the overcrowding and the crowd trouble this time. Billy Stark’s late winner sending Celtic into the quarter-final against Partick Thistle at Firhill, scheduled for Saturday, 12 March 1988.
I was looking forward to that match. I don’t think I’d ever been to Firhill by that point in time and, of course, the benefit of playing an “away” game in Glasgow was quite appealing. I recall the news reports before the game focused on the suitability of the home team’s stadium and whether or not the match could be played at Firhill, there was even talk of moving the tie to Hampden.
The go-ahead was eventually given, and the fixture was confirmed for Firhill but with a reduced capacity, making tickets harder to come by than usual and so, not for the last time that season, I was hanging in at the last minute looking for a ticket, which just never materialised.
A pal of mine, John Morrison, was a keen Jags fan and offered me a ticket for the home end. I decided not to take up this offer in the hope that I’d pick one up with the Celtic fans. Despite a late release of tickets for away fans, I was out of luck. I had the video recorder set up to tape the match to allow me to watch it again and again, and thankfully Celtic delivered with a 3-0 success with an early header from Andy Walker, a standout Tommy Burns left-foot volley and Billy Stark sealing the victory and passage to the semi-final at Hampden.
Semi-final time, so close to the final, but we were up against a strong Hearts team at Hampden on Saturday, 9 April 1988, and the outcome was not a certainty. Hearts had some good players at the time, including John Colquhoun, John Robertson and Gary Mackay, and had come close to success several times in the preceding years only to fail at the final hurdle (who can forget the final day of the season in 1986?!).
Fortunately, this time, the tickets were in the bag quite early and there was no fretting in the lead up to match day, although the journey to Hampden nearly cost my dad and Uncle Alex their own tickets. We travelled to Hampden on the Kirkintilloch CSC and my dad and Uncle had a few pre-match pints before we left the club for the bus journey.
We hit traffic queues close to the stadium and the line of buses seemed to grind to a halt with dad and Uncle Alex taking the opportunity to (ahem) relieve themselves behind a bush, while the traffic was static. Unfortunately for them, they were still in ‘mid-pee’ when the traffic started to move again and were frantically chasing the bus, and here was I, at the back window of said bus, laughing my head off and waving the three match tickets to them! There was no way I was missing this game, even if I had to go in by myself. Fortunately, they managed to catch up with the bus eventually and I got a clip around the ear for my cheek.
A huge crowd of nearly 67,000 was inside Hampden that afternoon but the match itself was really tough and sticky. I don’t recall too many opportunities for either team in the first half and at half-time it was stalemate, 0-0.
In the second half, the match kicked into life with a controversial opening goal for Hearts. A looping cross from Brian Whittaker looked like Pat Bonner’s to claim but Hearts centre-half, Dave McPherson, appeared to impede Packie and the ball sailed straight into the net. The Celtic players appealed for a foul, but the goal was given, much to the annoyance of the Hoops contingent. I still maintain that it was a foul on Bonner to this day, but it seemed to spark the Celts into life, and now it was game on.
Celtic seemed to miss chance after chance and, finally, Billy McNeill decided to make some changes, with Joe Miller coming off and Mark McGhee replacing him from the bench. McGhee had a good record against Hearts. He was a good, experienced striker and we held our breath and hoped for the best. As it turned out, it was a great substitution from the manager and Mark certainly had a key part to play in the final outcome.
By this point in the match, the Maestro Paul McStay was running the show and Celtic continued to press Hearts and create chances but just couldn’t take them. Maybe it wasn’t going to be our day this time. As “Hearts, Hearts, glorious Hearts” rang out from the covered terrace at the other end of Hampden, the Celtic fans were becoming agitated.
Then, as the clocked ticked down and time was running out, that wee bit of Celtic magic finally raised its head, the stuff that dreams are made of, the defining moments that stay in your head for years to come. Celtic equalised! It was really late in the game, surely only a few minutes to go, as Tommy Burns swung in a left-footed corner-kick in front of the Celtic End. Hearts keeper Henry Smith came out to clutch the ball and somehow, just somehow, he dropped it. Right at the feet of Mark McGhee.
Now, at this point, Hearts were hanging on and had just about everyone back in the box to defend this late corner-kick. Even though the ball was at the feet of McGhee, it seemed like the entire Hearts team was between him and the goal. He takes a touch and somehow trundles it in, over the line and Hampden erupts with sheer joy, delight and frankly, relief. I was thinking that at least we were still in it and even if it went to a replay, we would surely triumph.
And then it happened again!
A free-kick to Celtic, just inside our own half. I’m looking at big Roy Aitken shaping up to take the kick and he’s pointing forward. He’s sending the whole Celtic team forward. It’s the last minute and we’re going for it. You could just sense that something was about to happen. We couldn’t win it at the death, could we?
Aitken’s free-kick, launched deep into the Hearts half, was cut out by Kenny Black, who sent the ball out for a throw-in on the Main Stand side, just in front of the Celtic End, right in front of me. Expectation was in the air. We can do this,
Billy Stark found Frank McAvennie with the throw-in and the Hoops striker scooped a ball into the penalty area. Smith comes for it, but Mark McGhee gets there a split second before him with a header and Andy Walker “roofs it” into the net. Bedlam! We’ve done it! There’s no time left and we’re in the final. My goodness me, what a finish to this match. Just incredible.
The next day, my Mum, who has absolutely no interest in football, asked me how I enjoyed the match. I told her that Hampden is a big stadium and how I struggled to see up the other end as it just seemed so far away. We were at Uddingston Retail Park at the time, and quick as a flash she says, “can you read that sign?” I couldn’t read it and was immediately whisked off for an Opticians appointment and the next thing you know I’m lumbered with a pair of specs, which I refused to wear for years. I was 15 years old and way too cool for spectacles! It’s funny the things that can come into your mind when you’re thinking about Celtic!
TO BE CONTINUED ON MONDAY…
Robert Galbraith
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