Celtic had qualified for a first-ever Champions League Group stage campaign, following Martin O’Neill’s glorious debut season in charge at Parkhead, the Bhoys bridging a 32-year gap by winning the domestic Treble. A tough qualifying tie with Ajax was negotiated in some style with a 3-1 win in Amsterdam, my favourite European performance and trip, despite the single-goal loss in the return.
Seeded fourth in a strong Group behind Juventus, Porto and Rosenborg, it would be a perfect home record which would see Celts finish ahead of the Norwegians in third place, three Hoops defeats on the road, the first due to a sickening refereeing decision in Turin, allowing Porto to join the Italians in the knockout stages, despite a thrilling 4-3 victory over La Vecchia Signora in the final match.
I headed out to Valencia on a day-trip with my good pal, Roy from Milngavie. We had travelled to see Celtic down south and abroad on a number of occasions previously, memorably to Manchester, Zurich and Lyon. The script was always the same…wear minimal colours and head away from the main square madness, find a decent place for food and a few beers, then go to the game. Happy days.
On this occasion, however, the plan failed somewhat, as we pitched camp in an Irish bar, wall-to-wall Celtic videos and Wolfe Tones. Total Bhoy heaven. As you do, we got talking to some fellow Celts, a couple of lovely guys from Ireland. As the drinks flowed, for whatever reason, Roy had decided to call the guys by their respective Counties, rather than names. So we spent a brilliant day in the company of Cork and Tipperary. I often think back on that and chuckle. Like many of the things that happen on these trips, it makes no sense whatsoever when you’re sober. Having drank the pub dry with C and T, it was time for the match. The pre-match preparations had not included checking out where the stadium was relative to the pub, so it was back to the tried and tested, “Och, we’ll just ask someone.”
There was just one flaw in the masterplan. I spoke no Spanish at that time and Roy’s grasp of their language is best summed up by his comment to a waitress in Florida, when we were holidaying with the kids a few years later, complimenting the waitress that her English was better than his Colombian!
This being the case, the day was about to take a turn for the unexpected for one unsuspecting Valencianista. Having stopped him on the street and failing miserably to communicate or understand directions, there was only thing for it, “You’re coming with us! We’ll buy you a few beers!” An indeterminate amount of time later, we arrived at the Mestalla, where, helpfully, they had arranged for another bar to be open where we could pay our ransom fee in cervejas. The Spanish chap, by now resigned to his fate, was actually starting to enjoy himself, and in no hurry whatsoever to leave.
I did make a brief escape, walking through a war zone outside the stadium to reach the sanctity of the Valencia club shop, where I bought home tops for the kids. Then it was back through the conflict to meet up again with Roy the Bhoy and our new friend, Victor the Valencianista, both happily conversing in the international language of hand signals and alcohol.
I often wonder how the poor guy explained that episode to his wife, when he eventually got home. “Que pasa? Well, I was just walking along the road, minding my own business when I was approached by these two mad guys from Scotland. They forced me to take them to the Mestalla and drink beer with them.” I hope he had a good lawyer.
All good things have to come to an end and so it was off to the match and one of the most impressive and intimidating stadiums I have ever been in. The stands seemed incredibly steep, vertigo-inducing, with barriers in front of the seats. A fabulous football arena.
There was a pre-match blow as word spread amongst the fans that Chris Sutton would be missing from the line-up, due to a family situation. There were a few sporadic opportunities for Celtic, however, the story of the night was the performance of Rab Douglas in the Celtic goal. Time after time he defied Valencia with some stunning stops. And as the clock ticked down, we started to feel that maybe, just maybe, we would be taking an excellent draw back to Glasgow. Then with twelve minutes to play, Douglas was finally beaten, Vicente’s fierce strike following a free-kick giving him no chance.
Even so, Hoops hopes were high that the tie could be won two weeks later at a packed Celtic Park. The old place was crackling as Celts set about cancelling the first-leg deficit, a host of chances going a-begging before Larsson curled a beautiful shot past Canizares, right on the half-time whistle, moving past Jimmy Johnstone to become Celtic’s all-time leading scorer in Europe with 17 goals, in the process. The second period failed to produce a winner and as the tie moved into extra-time, both Larsson and Hartson came desperately close to scoring the crucial second.
So to penalties and, once again, Douglas did his bit, saving two Valencian efforts as the crowd noise reached a deafening crescendo. For once though, deadly marksmen Larsson and Petrov missed the target, the shootout level at 4-4 as Valgaeren stepped up for his turn. There was silence then relief, as Canizares blocked the shot before the Danish referee ordered a retake. Agonisingly, the big Belgian’s second attempt was also saved by the keeper, leaving Mista to clinch it for Valencia with a cool finish.
The Spaniards would ease past Servette Geneva in the next round before losing out to an early Ventola goal in the Mestalla in the Quarter-final against Inter Milan, despite an impressive draw in the San Siro. But there would be joy at the end of the season, as Valencia finally clinched the title, finishing seven points clear of Deportivo La Coruna, the first of two La Liga wins under Rafael Benitez.
The following year saw Los Che drop to fifth place, ensuring qualification for the UEFA Cup of 2003/04. Wins over AIK Solna, Maccabi Haifa and Turkish sides, Besiktas and Genclerbirligi, set up a Quarter-final tie with Bordeaux, the winners due to meet either Villarreal or Celtic in the last four. The Bhoys had disposed of Barcelona in the previous round but were unable to make it a Spanish double, losing 3-1 on aggregate to the Yellow Submarine. With Valencia beating the French, the Semi-final saw the great local rivals face off for a place in Gothenburg, Mista again with a vital penalty, the only goal of the tie, to see Los Che progress. In the Final, Benitez’s side beat Marseilles 2-0 to win a fourth European trophy, Vicente and Mista, the men who broke Celtic hearts, with the second-half goals.
Four days later, Valencia were celebrating again, a memorable double, as they pipped Barcelona to the Spanish title, their sixth and most recent La Liga success. As often happens, such enjoyment is brief.
Benitez left soon afterwards for Liverpool, where he would win the Champions League the following season, the Merseyside team coming back from three goals down at half-time, to beat AC Milan on penalties on a crazy night in Istanbul.
Ranieri returned to the Mestalla but failed to take Valencia past the Group Stage, finishing behind Inter Milan and Werder Bremen, then lost to Steaua Bucharest on penalties in the UEFA Cup Round of 32 in February. He was promptly sacked.
The only major silverware won by Valencia since then was the 2007/08 Copa del Rey, Ronald Koeman’s side, featuring David Silva, Juan Mata, David Villa and Fernando Morientes, beating Getafe 3-1 in the Vicente Calderon final. There were two further Europa League campaigns where Los Che reached the Semi-final stage. In 2011/12, they beat Stoke City, PSV Eindhoven and AZ Alkmaar before losing to Atletico Madrid.
Two years later, Valencia topped a Group including Swansea City, Krasnodar and Swiss side St Gallen. They then knocked out Dynamo Kiev, Ludogorets and Basel before Sevilla won their Last Four tie on away goals. On both occasions, their Spanish conquerors would win the trophy.
Matt Corr
