You know what pissed me off most about John Mason’s glib and shameful dismissal of our disabled fan the other day? The suggestion that he should find another club to support, as if it were that easy. Only someone who never loved a thing in his life could make such a ridiculous statement. I don’t know what Mason’s relationship with Clyde FC is like, but it’s not like the one we have with this club of ours, and perhaps that’s part of what bothers him.
I grew up with this. I suspect we all did. Celtic is like a part of me. I cannot imagine a world without our club in it. I cannot imagine not being part of this Family. The roots of this club go deep into my own family history. So many of the defining moments in my background either involved Celtic or were influenced by it.
When my gran on my dad’s side passed away the whole lot of us watched a Celtic – Rangers game in a hotel on the day of the funeral. We done them, securing a 3-0 victory. When my gran on my mother’s side passed a few years later my first re-engagement with the world was watching the New Year’s fixture in a boozer with my mate. We won that one as well, courtesy of what was perhaps Georgios Samaras’ finest 90 minutes in a Celtic shirt. When my cousin Kelly got married everyone attended the wedding with our radios tuned to the opening day of the season at Celtic Park; new boy Jiri Jarosik made his debut and scored a goal.
I could go on, but you get the drift.
I have been writing on this site a while now, and amongst the articles I am proudest of having worked on are those that made up the Dark Days series, written brilliantly by Paul Cassidy. Those were tough articles to edit; they evoked horrible memories of an era when we were really on the brink. I have vivid recollections of some of the worst days in that decade and what’s worse is that stopping the ten didn’t end the pain.
In fact, the two years that followed were, in their own way, even worse. Murray was at the zenith of his arrogance. He was throwing money around like confetti. He boasted that he would spend ten quid for every five that we did. He said that whoever took over after Fergus had “better have very deep pockets” because he was going to push further than ever.
Martin came along in 2000 and that changed everything. His arrival was the official end to the Dark Days, the moment that changed the destiny of our club. And yes, there were bad times even after that, not least of which was Rangers winning three titles on the bounce between 2009 and their eventual collapse. But it never got so bad again that you couldn’t see where the end would come, and it was the latter part of the 90’s that did that to me.
I sat on the roundabout outside Ibrox in a flood of tears on the day I watched them dismantle us 4-0 on 26 March 2000; I saw no end in sight. My mate John O’Kane tried to cheer me up by saying back to me words I’d used on him a few times over the years; “This is the last bad day.” I had no idea that in terms of being that low that he was 100% right.
A year later, we returned to Ibrox as swaggering conquerors, already confirmed as league champions, having won the League Cup and on our way to Martin’s famous treble. And we played them off the park and handed them an epochal beating.
I never felt again as bad as I did that day on the roundabout. Even when Smith returned and led them to three final league titles, I never got down about it. We were so close to overhauling them all the way through that spell. I knew by then that their club was built on sand. I knew it would all come crashing down eventually.
I just didn’t know how close we were to it.
The last few years have been incredible for Celtic fans, and these last two seasons in particular. And I see no sign that our time is coming to an end. Old ghosts have been laid to rest; I’ve seen us win at Ibrox and Parkhead 5-1 in the space of one campaign. I’ve seen us dismantle a team calling itself Rangers in a 4-0 Hampden demolition … and I’ve seen us win the title by beating them like a naughty step child. Yes, a lot of rough roads have been well paved over.
But tomorrow we have a chance to do something no club in Scotland has ever done before; the back to back treble. It’s historic. It’s monumental. It’s the stuff of dreams. And it is more than all that; for me and a lot of fans of my generation it’s the final farewell to those years we remember with no fondness whatsoever. Win it and all the debts are repaid. All the pain has been worth it. Even those darkest moments will have the sweetness of apple pie.
Tomorrow is more than a cup final. It’s an exorcism.
The demons of the 90’s are finally being laid to rest.
After tomorrow, we can sleep without nightmares.