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…
