3:30 am Departure.
They say a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step; well this one started at 3 in the morning, with the zombie walk to the bathroom after about two hours sleep. Not great when you are looking at a full days travel.
That’s a problem for three in the afternoon, when I strongly suspect that I will quite literally be a zombie although not, thankfully, in the Sevco sense of the word.
I am writing this – trying to write it – on a mobile sitting in a taxi on the way to the airport. It’s nit quite ten to four. There are three of us, meeting the fourth member of the team at the check in gate. Yesterday he was talking about bringing the supporters bus flag. In his carry on luggage. This should be interesting and amusing.
5:50 am Awaiting Takeoff.
Airport food has improved out of sight in recent years so breakfast in the departure lounge ain’t no bad thing. Morning rolls and pancakes is a good way to ward off nearly zero sleep. Coffee at this hour is more than just a nice accompaniment, it is a full on necessity, a tool of survival but I decided to forego it as it will be needed later when it’s all that stands between me and collapse.
Since we arrived at Glasgow airport the troops in the hoops have been arriving in a steady procession; they are everywhere, making up about sixty percent of this plane which is filled to capacity. I can only guess how many of us are travelling to this match but it’s a lot.
We are rolling up the runway now; this is so much like going to any other away game I half expect the guys and gals on this plane to break into the Celtic song! For it’s a grand old team to play for ….
And we’re airborne, straight into the back of Ophelia; it will take more than a tropical storm to stop this great adventure! Here we go again … we’re on the road again …
06:30 am Somewhere Over Water
Sunrise.
Man oh man that looks great even with a little chop up here. As the staff bring around some complementary snacks I realise that this is a pretty good approximation of where we thought our first season under Brendan was meant to be like; a brilliant sunrise and a bumpy ride. A few wee bonuses and a safe landing.
Solid enough. A good beginning with a few bumps along the way.
But of course it wasn’t like that at all; this has been the very definition of smooth flying, like going first class on Concorde once used to be. This has been such a remarkable journey under this guy already that you dare to dream even knowing that our opponents are world class and especially at hone.
This team of ours improved so quickly and completely that I knew this time last year I would be taking this trip: I told my old man to pick his trip for this year and when the draw was made this was his game. And now here we are. I have not yet given up on another European trip after Christmas: it might well be we get sent somewhere impossible to say no to, the sort of game you just don’t want to miss. That’s the thing about Brendan, our current captain; he makes you a believer and he lets you dare to dream.
We’re almost in Amsterdam.
The first leg of the journey is complete.
09:15 am Local Time. Amsterdam Airport.
Famous stag night destination, land of a thousand legal highs and the place where the first boom and bust commodity craze – in tulip bulbs believe it or not – was born.
It was here that Charlie Nicholas scored one of the finest goals of his career and where George McCluskey scored late to nick a winner. That was in 1982 against a Johan Cruyff side. In 2001 we returned and won 3-1: of course for days what filled the papers was stories of fighting between fans as the hacks went all out to deny what happened on the park.
Similar headlines greeted our 2-2 draw here just two years ago. If there is a way to spin a positive result into negative headlines our press finds it. Always.
There’s a more personal link to this city for the guys sitting here: during a friendly in this city a couple of years ago one of our mates managed to lose a 25 foot long flag, the bus banner. I say lost because it involved a lot of alcohol consumption. A more honest appraisal was to say that he took his eyes off it long enough for it to get nicked.
Losing the standard was a crucifixion offence in the days of the Roman Empire. Sometimes an angry general would decimate a legion just to make an additional point: in case the origins of the word aren’t familiar literally it referred to the systematic murder of one man out of every ten. That’s how seriously they took that stuff.
The guy who made up the fourth member of our party did in fact bring the new banner in his hold-all. It will not be unveiled whilst in this city and for good reason. Ajax fans were the ones who nicked the last one and they paraded it like a trophy at games and on social media for months.
Once was enough thanks guys.
In a half hour we will be off to Paris.
13:30 pm Local Time. Charles De Gaul Airport.
Starbucks looks the same everywhere you go. Some find that disturbing and others comforting. I just find it bland and wish I was seeing more of the city.
As with Amsterdam there are Hoops fans all over this place and in the next piece I’ll try to tell some of their stories: this is a crazy exodus even for a newbie.
Being here gives me a sense of how huge we are as a club. The lengths our guys go to is something to behold alright.
There are two hours left until our flight to Munich and two of our group are already on their plane: they are our Eagle Scouts or would be if one hadn’t already lost his specs, ripped his bag, had to go back for his jacket which he’d left on the flight here and then left his mobile phone in the security tray … thank god for vigilant staff!
If we get there and find out they lost each other at the train station I won’t be surprised! Anyway our next flight is to Munich!
Almost there!
Talk to you again when we arrive!