19:40 local time. The Munich Subway.
Incredible.
You would swear we were the home team here.
Celtic fans are, like, just everywhere and they are singing and cheering and generally in excellent mood. The home fans, who are scattered about amongst us, look bemused and a little bit awed. They are mostly quiet; think on that. We are the ones making all the noise, in their city.
The subway is mobbed. Getting on a train has proved incredibly difficult thus far; two have come and gone and we’ve not been able to get near them because they are already packed to capacity. The kick-off is a little over an hour away; that caused some hilarious confusion in our group as a couple of us (yes, me included) still weren’t properly synced to the time difference and had thought kick-off was at 19:45 UK.
We are the only country in Europe for whom kick-off time comes before EastEnders.
One minor fly in the ointment here; our accident prone team member, the guy who lost his specs, ripped his bag, left his jacket on the plane and then almost lost his mobile going through security, all before we even got to Munich, stopped to talk to a guy he knew as we were all heading up the platform and we can’t find the sod … and time dictates that if the next train has space on it that we’ve got to leave him.
No choice in the matter mate. Sorry. All’s fair in love, war and getting to a Celtic match in time for the kick-off. He’s a big boy and capable of taking care of himself … although would you really trust him to based on all that? Haha!
Here comes the train. Damn. Well, nothing else for it but to go.
20:25 Local Time: The Outskirts Of The Allianz.
What a stadium that looks.
Holy God.
What a mental train journey that was.
First up, the train stopped mid-way through the journey and we all had to get off and get on a new one.
The silver lining there was that I met some good people on the platform, including one of the Res 12 guys; fellas, it was excellent seeing you all and especially those who travelled ridiculously long distances to be at the game; Ohio? Man oh man, that is dedication.
The experience of traveling away to Europe with our fans has been immense so far, and this is the best bit, the actual walk up to the ground, because our supporters thus far have been magnificent and the Germans love us. The train journey was bedlam: our fans sang the whole way.
The Bayern fans laughed with us and enjoyed the banter. I heard one guy ask a Munich fan for a prediction, the guy said 3-1, the Celtic fan asked “do you really think you’ll score?” and then a bizarre conversation followed as he tried to break his point down so the guy understood it … the joke is actually much better because the language barrier totally spoiled the punchline and required an explanation! He got a sympathy laugh and then some hugs were exchanged.
The Allianz is an incredible looking ground; from here, walking up from the underground, it looks like a big pale red UFO has landing in the middle of nowhere … it is an imposing, awesome sight. We really need to get some coloured bubble wrap for the outside of Parkhead!
Light it up and remind the world Glasgow’s green and white!
Seriously, this is the most impressive ground I’ve ever seen … from the outside anyway. I cannot imagine that the inside will disappoint me.
Now the nerves have started, but only because me and the old man have Bayern end tickets. Will we get in? We’re not wearing “colours”; I have a Celtic t-shirt from the official club line but it’s in black with only 88 on it … we shall see if it passes muster.
And even as I write those lines I feel stupid; there are Celtic fans everywhere here, wearing the Hoops, all heading to the same general area as me. There is no question we’ll all get in. I could have worn my beloved away top after all …
This is a measure of how well regarded we are. The Munich fans aren’t bothered about where we sit, the stadium security don’t seem bothered, the whole day has been friendly and relaxed and it looks as if the match is going to go the same way.
Wow. Happy days.
20:40. The Best Seats In The House. The Allianz Arena.
Over a month ago, when the draw was made, me and my old booked this trip without the first clue about where we were getting tickets for the game. Then, when tickets went on general sale, they were snapped up in minutes by people who seemed extraordinarily well informed about when that would take place; the Celtic ticket office really needs to get its act together, some of their practices are downright ridiculous and unprofessional. I was going to do a full article on that, but The Record had written an appalling piece of fiction criticising them and I figured that the club didn’t need my piece on top of their garbage and so I left it.
But they forced me and the old man to look elsewhere, and we purchased seats which were advertised as “away fan” tickets … and the second I checked the big map of the stadium I knew that wasn’t the case. Those tickets were also expensive; when you tossed in the mark-up the company took (the booking fee) they were about £180 each.
It was my sister who suggested that perhaps that wasn’t so ridiculous as it seemed; she told us the face value of those tickets would usually have been about £100 …. I checked the ground map again and damned if they didn’t seem that way.
And now, sitting here typing this, I can tell you they were worth every penny. These are the best seats I’ve ever had for any event I’ve ever attended. We are, indeed, amongst the Munich fans, but we’re not the only Celtic fans here, of course. There are Hoops everywhere, and doubtless a lot of fans dressed like me, just in case.
The view is incredible; we’re right on the halfway line, an elevated view of the pitch; these are premium seats, Category 1 according to the Bayern website, and by God they look it. They were, most definitely, worth every single penny.
To our left, as we look down, is what is surely the Bayern Munich ultras section; it’s impressive enough, I guess, with their big flags and their noise, but the Green Brigade they ain’t. The main body of Celtic fans are up to our right; you can just hear them.
They are saving their voices for the kick-off, no doubt, and probably a little nervous about what’s coming.
This stadium is magnificent. My old man has been in all the great stadiums of Europe except for the one we all wanted, the Bernabeu, including Munich’s old ground and he reckons this is the best one he’s ever seen. It is more than impressive; it’s awesome.
The atmosphere is great. The teams are coming out.
The Champions League tune blares for a moment. This is what it’s all about.
COYBIG.
01:00 Or Therabouts: A Hotel Just Outside Munich.
Amazing night.
Amazing.
Glad to be back in the hotel and off my feet, but that was just superb. The result wasn’t what we had hoped for but exactly in line with what we’d expected, but the game itself, as entertaining as some of it was, was the least important part of this whole experience, which has fortified my love for our club like no other game I’ve ever been at.
The magic of this trip was all in our support and the way they behaved throughout. The people of Germany were exceptionally good to us and we did not abuse their hospitality. The Troops were the story here; they gave a wonderful account of themselves and were the best ambassadors the club could ever hope to have.
The train journey back from the game was phenomenal. The carriages were a mix of Celtic fans, Munich supporters and ordinary citizens who probably dreaded the idea of sharing their ride with so many foreign lads and lassies who’s team had just suffered a defeat, but you would never know that we had. The fans were in great form, as they were throughout the whole match when the sang their hearts out in spite of the goings on down on the park.
One of my favourite moments was when the awestruck German fans next to us at the game asked us what the light show was about on minute 67. That was such a pleasure to explain to them; I am sure they went off and Googled that one when they got home!
The train journey was like that, all the way back. If the people around us expected hostility or sober contemplation or outright depression that’s not what they got. From the moment the fans reached the train station they were singing.
I saw a couple of folk get on at one station with a sort of OMG look on their faces. They slipped in just next to where me and my guys were. Within about five minutes they looked simply bewildered and within ten they were laughing their heads off … in particular at Come On You Boys In Green. I don’t think they’ve ever seen anything quite like it.
Getting off the train, shaking hands with people, exchanging warm wishes with rival fans … this is what all of football should be like. This is the trip I had been hoping for, but way, way, way better, by far, than I’d anticipated.
We are the best fans in football.
And this has been a superb, but exhausting, experience.
I will do the match report later, but for now I just want to say thanks to all the folks I met out here and who made this so memorable. When I started writing it I decided not to put in names (to protect the guilty haha) but you all know who you are.
HH friends, and I hope we can do this again sometime.
