“Make Mine A Double!” Two Goals From Macca Puts The Cherry On Our Centenary Celebrations As We Win The League And Cup.
Hampden finals, of which I’ve seen a few now, always evoke warm memories, but this one more than most. I remember nearly everything about that day, from the gob-smacking good weather to the dust of Hampden and right up to exactly how overwhelmed with joy we all were when the ball hit the back of the net for McAvennie’s second.
That day was special. That day was wondrous. That day made us all believe in miracles, as if we needed any further proof at the end of what had already been a special season full of memorable comebacks; more on that later, I assure you!
It was 14 May 1988, our centenary year, and we had already secured the league title. We went to Hampden full of confidence, with one of the best strikers in our clubs recent history, Frank McAvennie up front. He was on fire, and if there was someone likely to pop up for us and do the business that day it was him. We got what we expected.
But it wasn’t al plain sailing that day.
In fact, Kevin Gallagher, the grandson of the great Patsy Gallagher, actually gave Dundee Utd the lead early in the second half, and they were a side just as determined, and infused with feelings of destiny, as we were. They had contested the cup final, against St Mirren, the year before, and had the additional burden of having lost a final to us just a couple of years before that; they wanted revenge, and to balance the ledger.
Everything was going to plan for the Tannadice men; we were playing well but the crucial equaliser stubbornly refused to come.
Then, with 15 minutes left to go, it did. Anton Rogan, having of the games of his career, tore down the wing, crossed the ball perfectly and Macca headed it home. Cue bedlam on the stands as over 60,000 Celtic supporters went absolutely mad with joy.
The best was yet to come; with extra time looking an absolute certainty, Billy Stark hit a shot, it was blocked, and the deflection fell to the one man Dundee Utd’s players and manager would have dreaded such a break of the ball.
McAvennie didn’t miss.
Hampden erupted with a delight few can ever remember being bettered. This was what dreams were made of.
The lovely postscript to the incredible game and those delirious scenes was that someone, God knows who, thought it might be good for the Prime Minister to travel up from London to present the winners with the Scottish Cup.
And so it was that Thatcher made one of her daftest, and most ill-advised, forays to our great country. She was greeted with a sea of red cards, from Celtic and Dundee Utd fans alike, who let her know, in no uncertain terms, exactly what we thought of her and her appalling, destructive, social policies, which had wrought such havoc on the country.
Not even her presence could spoil the party though, and what a party it was.
“Oh Hampden, in the sun …”