Those of us clustered behind that goal had a brief moment of seeing the ball heading towards us, and we were all set to cheer a great goal, but the cheers turned to anguish as the ball hit the bar and soared up into the air. It might have soared out of play for a goal kick, but here the capricious wind played its part, for the ball went straight up into the air, and the ever-alert Bertie Auld took his opportunity to get there before any of the Dunfermline defenders. Thus, Celtic were back on level terms as that terracing behind him erupted into ecstasy.
That was in the 30th minute and Bertie had to be disentangled from the netting, just like Patsy Gallacher in his great Cup final of 40 years earlier. Now we felt that we might get somewhere. We might now be able to even get ahead before half-time, but sadly it was not to work out like that, for it was Dunfermline who scored again just before the interval. Young was adjudged to have fouled Sinclair a few yards outside the penalty box. It looked like a fair challenge from the far end, but Mr Phillips was in no doubt. It was a dangerous position, and the Celtic defence lined up to face what they thought was going to be a shot from Melrose.
But Melrose tapped the ball to John McLaughlin, and at that very point the public address system started to make a pointless announcement about something to do with the imminence of half-time. No-one will ever know what it was all about, for McLaughlin hammered home a fine shot. To what extent Celtic were put off by that announcement we will never know – they certainly never complained about it after the game – but those around me in the Celtic end were convinced that it was a distraction, and the more paranoid thought it was all deliberate!
Half-time came soon afterwards with the Pars all cock-a-hoop at their team going in 2-1 up at the break. The Celtic community was stilled. We had been built up and now we had been knocked down again. There remained another 45 minutes of course, but it was still a depressing experience. Jim Farrell, the Celtic Director (and father-in-law of Jim Craig) tells the story about how he was on his way to the Directors’ Lounge along with Mrs Stein. She was of a different religious persuasion to her husband and tended towards Rome rather than 121 George Street, Edinburgh. She said as a joke to Mr Farrell that a prayer to St Anthony might be no bad thing. St Anthony, apparently, had jurisdiction over things that were lost, (like a house key or a wallet, for example) but might yet be still found. “Celtic were like that at the moment,” thought Mrs Stein.
CONTINUED ON THE NEXT PAGE…
