Blackburn -  The Journey Begins

The European odyssey, back then at the very start
Would start with a visit to Blackburn, to the famous Ewood Park
Even though we came away from the first leg with a lead
It was boys against men, they tried to make us concede

The king of kings put us in the lead, less than ten minutes to go
We would head down with an advantage, down to face an old foe
A player, and manager of the huns in the late eighties
Souness was a man we all most definitely hated
The man who gave Mo Johnston the chance to be a Judas
Signing for that mob after us, an act of sheer lewdness

We travelled down there, full of hope rather than expectation
Cautiously approaching the game, silently praying for jubilation
At that point we had no way of knowing where we’d end up
A run all the way to the final of the prestigious UEFA cup

Hired a bus to take us down on the morning of the tie
A wee trip to Lancashire with plenty of cargo to get us by
Very few on the bus had a ticket they had secured
The rest of us hoped some would be available to be procured

The journey down as expected full of laughs and triviality
Our heads full of carry on, and alcohol fuelled joviality
The time passed by rapidly, as quick as a flash
Still enough to make sure the majority were smashed

Not sure what kind of welcome would be waiting in store 
For the travelling hoops army, those legends of folklore
Our reputation means were generally well received
As ambassadors for the club we rarely leave the locals peeved

After asking around for a bit, our hopes became dashed
Of a ticket for the game there was simply not a chance
Reluctantly accepting we’d have to observe from elsewhere
Unsure at that point where we’d watch it, we didn’t really care
As long as we got to see the bhoys in white and green
Undoubtedly the worlds most famous football team

To their credit, to a lot of trouble they had went
By organising an absolute belter of a tent
To accommodate the fans who couldn’t get into the ground
When we seen it, we let out a celebratory sound
Somewhere to watch the game for the nomadic throngs
A place for us to settle for a rambunctious sing song

We took our places early to make sure we caught the start of the game
The atmosphere was rising, and becoming far from tame
Out of nowhere, a chorus of boos and derision
Sounesses ugly mug appeared on the giant television
Speculating about his teams chances in the pre match interview
A full pint bounced off his face that someone from the crowd threw

Our attention was commanded as we waited for the start
We had a lead to protect, knew we had to be smart
No need to take chances searching for an opening goal
Leave ourselves to open at the back, and we might pay a heavy toll

It took us around about a quarter of an hour
To get it right up Souness and that arrogant shower
Just like the first leg it was the king of kings
Who sent us into a frenzy, we would once again sing
A piece of absolute genius, something to behold
A deft lob over the keeper bounced into the back of the goal

Big Hartsons dummy fooled them a treat
Set it up for oor Henke, and sent him through on his own
A two goal lead to protect, so happy we could greet
The noise coming from their end was a palpable groan

We could afford to sit back, they now had to score twice
An away goal as well, set us up really nice
But we weren’t finished, still had a point to prove
As we played flowing football, and got into our groove

Then with just over twenty minutes to play
We were left in no doubt, the result was coming our way
Big Sooty jumped up with a bullet of a header
With ferocious power, he couldn’t have placed it any better
A man who used to be one of their most famous sons
Now a talisman for the hoops, and scoring goals for fun

When the match finished and the final whistle went
The players efforts had left them understandably spent
Unfazed by all the hype surrounding this latest ‘Battle of Britain’
We’d shown what were made of, we’d done it once again

What a trip it had been for my maiden euro jaunt away
A brilliant result, and magnificent day
The mighty Celtic marched on, ready for whoever we had to face
Confident of beating our next opponents, with style and with grace

Stuttgart – Losing my Euro Virginity

We were off to the beautiful German city of Stuttgart
Put in a performance full of determination and heart
Twelve of us on a bus, without so much as a toilet
I didn’t want to moan, as that would have just spoiled it

From O’Learys the bus was leaving, gave us a chance for a few beers
When the driver turned up, there were shouts and there were cheers
Down the famous em eight, in the direction of the euro tunnel
A route for us to go, through an underground funnel
By the time we reached the border, I was drunk to the extreme
Before long I was snoozing, catatonically, in a dream

While I was sleeping, they borrowed some of my cargo
Probably assumed I’d be too drunk to know
When I woke up my bladder was screaming for release
I had to do something quickly to give it some peace

We had a plastic container, which was about the same size as me
They passed it back through the bus to allow me to take a pee
They let out a shout, another enthusiastic cheer
Over the top of the chair, a couple of them leered

‘It’s the wee mans first euro pish’ a moment we need to capture
They shouted excitedly with voices full of rapture
Out with their cameras, busily snapping away
Not a care in the world for my right to privacy

We made it in one piece, checked into our hotel
Headed down to the bar, we were all feeling swell
Won a watch with the prices of drinks in the pub
Of the green we’d definitely been given the rub

By the time it came round, the day of the game
They’d been passing dodgy fifties everywhere, without a modicum of shame
We were sitting in the pub for some rest, relaxation and release
When they bundled in the door, an entourage of German Police

As one of the few who didn’t have anything to hide
I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned, my time I had to bide
Then to my total confusion, and my absolute dismay
After they checked my three fifties, they dragged me away

Falsely imprisoned for the crime of counterfeiting
While I was in prison my comrades were all waiting
‘Free the Rutherglen One’ was the strapline they shouted 
Let out realising I was innocent of the crimes they had touted

When I asked them to take me back to the square
They drew a map on a post it, ‘that will get you there’
Flagged a taxi, jumped into the back of his car
Handed him the map, hoping we didn’t have to go far

Before I knew it we were parked up outside
Thankfully it had been a pretty short ride
As I made my way through the doors, I took a thoughtful pause
I entered to the sound of a rapturous applause

Davey Quinn who appears in a later episode of my story
Led the claps to welcome my return, marking a moment of glory
Just across from the pub we were all camped out in
There was loud rebel tunes coming out from within

A concert was in flight, it was Charlie and the Bhoys
A republican ruckus of rowdy reckless noise
I met John Ewart outside, you could tell he was buzzing
It was a welcome experience to bump into my cousin
Another few beers and we would soon be on our way
Another opportunity to watch the famous Glasgow Celtic play

We’d won three one at Parkhead, and were in a comfortable position
Had to make sure we made it through, avoiding any feeling of derision
We arrived at the stadium full of confidence in our heart
As luck would have it couldn’t have made a better start

Big Sooty and Thommo put us two nil up
We were cruising to the quarter finals of the UEFA cup
There was only a quarter of an hour on the clock
We’d put the tie to bed before they had a chance to take stock

Moved into cruise control, took control of the story
As we moved towards half time they gave us a reason to worry
A goal just before the break brought the gap to two
I was glad the half time whistle went as I was desperate for the loo

We took the opportunity to grab some refreshments at half time
Joined the back of the queue, an extensive long line
By the time we got to the front the second half had started
Grabbed two pints of beer each, which back to our seat we carted

Brendan and I Started swilling them as if the world was ending
Guy beside us started laughing so much, over he was bending
He broke the news to us that the pints were actually non alcoholic
To us this news was disastrous, disconcerting and catastrophic

For much of the second half, they looked the better side
But we’d put ourselves in a good position and were unlikely to slide
Into a situation where our grip on euro survival became loose
Then up stepped a player who hailed from Belarus

Only a quarter of an hour left to go in the game
Up stepped Aleksandr Hleb to claim his moment of fame
Levelled the game on the night, at two goals each
Our defence had been broken and easily breached

Minutes later Hleb hit the post with a drive that was searing
Our nerves began to jangle, as they started believing
We didn’t have to hang on for long, the finish line was in sight
Then Mutzel stepped up to score and gave us a fright

Three minutes with which to change the course of fate
Fortuitously for us they had left it too late
We dug in deep, held them off as we proved strong
When the final whistle went we burst ecstatically into song

When we get back to the hotel, champagne was flowing a plenty
At midnight I’d turn twenty five, a quarter of a century
Partied long into the night, burning the candle at both ends
Enjoying some frolics and fun with my new found friends

We had enjoyed a cracking trip, which turned out to be very fruitful
A tie against Liverpool lay in store, up against the Kop faithful
They’d been denied a chance to win the real big cup
In the Champions League, Valencia and Basel had proved too much

They’d made good progress beating Vitesse Arnhem and Auxerre
Now they’d play the famous bhoys, how would they fare?
Before we could devote any of our attention to such things
We had to get the bus home, without the aid of a planes wings

Before we went, Billso and Jimmy attempted a final swansong
By trying to do something which was quite simply wrong
The two of them grabbed a keg of beer from the hotel 
Nae room for it on the bus unfortunately, oh well….

The journey on the way, had been mentally taxing
There was little chance the way home would be anymore relaxing
An errand to run at the start of the journey
A jaunt into Belgium for some tax free goods on our way

One of the funniest episodes of our excursion in its entirety
A wee pit stop at the German equivalent of a cash and carry
The full bus walked in the front door, completely team handed
Seconds later I found I’d been completely abandoned

Never read to much into it, continued with my shopping
Never had an inkling, no sign of the penny dropping
Picked up a bottle of malt, made in a distillery in Glasgow
Only eight euros a bottle, a definite bargain on the go

Stepped back on to the bus, heard rapturous laughter
Seconds later I was accosted with hilarious patter
Looked around the bus, completely stacked with alcohol
Not one of them had paid, not a single one at all

Soon after we walked in they each picked up an item
Walked back out the entrance, leaving me behind them
In all fairness, I’d already had the jail
A second trip to the cells for me would have been an epic fail

We still had plenty of time for more madness to unravel
I was curious to see what unfolded during the rest of our travel
Reached the Euro Tunnel without any further disruption
Once we arrived, we were subjected to an interruption

Customs stopped us as they wanted to search our bus
We just wanted to get through without any fuss
By that point we never had anything we wanted to hide
Just wanted to get back on board and continue our ride

They opened the back, and something hit the ground
Shattered into smithereens, and made a cacophonic sound
A bottle of champagne, branded with the Celtic crest
Had been ruined right in front of us, put our patience to the test

They shepherded us back on the bus, apologised for our loss
We could tell they weren’t genuine and couldn’t give a toss
We finally made it home after thirty two energy sapping hours
By that time we were all stinking and definitely needed a shower

A few weeks later, I was in the pub for the old firm game
Saw a few of my travelling companions, much more sober and tame
Noticed them passing photos around whilst they chuckled loudly
I never found out until another day

The photos at which they had been laughing so voraciously
We’re of me with my nob out while we’d been away
They’d captured in print my first European pish
That they’d keep it to themselves was simply too much to wish

Liverpool – The Battle of the Kop

For the quarter finals we marched upon the famous Anfield
A memorable away win our efforts did yield
After a cracking game at Parkhead that ended all square
We wanted to make sure our run never ended in despair

The home leg had been emotional, a feeling of unison and a spark
You’ll never walk alone belted out from the middle of the park
The chorus led by Gerry Marsden, a really iconic singer
A great way start the game, throughout the ground his voice lingered

When the game kicked off, sentiment was put to one side
Within a hundred seconds, wee Henke was doing the glide
Driven hard and low, by the hunslayer Thommo
Larsson stuck a knee out, diverted it into the goal

Another Battle of Britain we were expected to lose
What a start to the game, we’d really lit the fuse
Then Big Hartson hit a shot, off the crossbar it cannoned
They were rocking and rolling, the Parhead thunder was summoned
They weathered the storm, managed to steady the ship
Enough to convince themselves our early pressure was a blip

Came more into the game, they grew in confidence
Until eventually they managed to breach our defence
The ball fell to big Heskey, he hit a low angled shot
As accurate as they come, like a coin into a slot

Although plenty more excitement, that was the last of the goals
It was balanced on a knife edge, a compelling story to be told
We’d tried our hardest to build a lead to take away
To set us up for victory as we entered the Anfield fray
We knew we were more than capable of coming up with a result
We also knew it would be difficult in the face of a Liverpool assault

On the morning of our trip, my alarm sounded to get me up
Another page in the story of our run to the UEFA cup
Final, can you believe it, we somehow made it through
The song that woke me up was Avril Lavignes ‘I’m with you’

The bus picked us up on Bogleshole Road
Nice and handy for the motorway, in full on party mode
As I’m writing this poem almost twenty years to the day
I’ll be honest, I have a slightly depleted memory
I do know on the journey down , the alcohol was flowing
I don’t need to remember that to be sure of knowing

Singing and shouting songs of a famous football team
With hope in our hearts, and smiles that would gleam
When we arrived we never really had a plan of where to go
Happy to drift along with a spontaneous flow

Headed down to the waterfront, to the famous Albert Dock
A place steeped in history, throughout the historical clock
Home of Richard and Judy, for some a national treasure
With their quirky weatherman Fred floating on the water doing the weather

Then off up to the Cream Club, as ravers we were duty bound
Would have been nice to get a chance to experience the sound
Headed up to the city centre, to get a sample of the atmosphere
A chance to refill the alcohol supplies, and top up our beer

Came across a vendor selling hats, scarves, and flags
Decided to purchase a couple to hang over my rags
One to show my support for the Palestinian resistance
The other to demonstrate my Cuban allegiance

I tied one round my neck and wore it like a cape
Wee Bru took the other and done the exact same
Ended up going for a wee run on a public bus
Mingling with the locals, laying low without a fuss
Like Blackburn, tickets were few and far between
We were realistic, and knew what that would mean
To watch the match, a pub near Anfield was our likely destination
We set about our search without further procrastination

The place we ended up in had a cracking atmosphere
Absolutely bouncing from the front to the rear
There were very few Celtic fans in there, t’was a sea of red and yellow
In fairness, their attitude towards us was welcoming and mellow

Managed to get a seat at a table, got in a round of drinks
Good job they weren’t focused on differences, and were celebrating the links
A sense of anticipation started to envelope the place
It was absolutely rammed, with very little space

The rowdy noise and singing that had been loud and prevalent
Died down just as the game began, it became almost silent
We needed to score, they didn’t as they had scored a goal away
An attacking cavalier approach was needed if we were going to save the day

Then right on the stroke of half time, Oor Thommo came up trumps
A tactically perfect free kick that left them all stumped
The wall jumped up expecting his trademark curl over the top
He hit the ball under them, and completely silenced the kop

The away goal we needed, the pendulum had swung back
Should we sit in and hold our lead, or continue to attack?
We had the benefit of a half time team talk to steady the ship
Would we solidify the fort, or go out and let it rip?

The vibe in the pub, that had been friendly and buoyant
Palpably changed, you could sense the grievance and annoyance
The group at the table who’d been so civil and welcoming
Were now exhibiting behaviour that was really unbecoming
Och well, it was up to them if they wanted to be arseholes
It would be good to rub it in by snatching another goal

Before the game restarted, Dave and Bru done a disappearing act
By the time the whistle blew, they hadn’t come back
No doubt flirting with the local talent, trying to see if they could score
A different kind of goal than the one that lay in store

The second half started in the same vein as the first
The Liverpool faithful collectively fearing the worst
They tried to break us down but their efforts were proving meek
The way we were defending they couldn’t score within a week

We entered the last ten minutes, the margins were fine
A goal from them would have took the tie to a nerve wracking extra time
What happened next was surely one of the best goals you’ll ever see
A goal worthy of winning any match, it filled us all with glee
Big Bad John gave us every reason to loudly scream
He put the tie to bed and sent us into a dream

Played a one two with the king of kings, and then a shoulder he dropped
Let fly with a shot from twenty five yards that simply couldn’t be stopped
It swerved from left to right before nestling in the top right corner of Dudeks net
They needed to score three goals in eight minutes, on that you wouldn’t bet

The final whistle blew, a night that would go down in history
We’d won the battle of the kop, they we’re undone by our wizardry
Off to the semi finals we marched, we were beginning to believe
That a place in the final was definitely something we could achieve

It had been a tiring day, wanted to get up the road without a fuss
The next thing we knew, a bunch of arseholes were running at our bus
Unsure if they were fans who were upset at the result
Or simply a group of inhospitable locals who were determined to insult

We stood our ground, determined not to let them ruin our day
Mad Bru was at the front, leading us courageously into the fray
He charged at them, and made the ultimate sacrifice for our protection
Lobbed a two litre bottle of cider firmly in their direction
He let out a cheer when one of them cheekily threw it back
It landed on the ground in front of us, thankfully still in tact

We boarded the bus, done a head count to make sure everyone was there
Told the driver to get us on the road in case any more trouble flared
Another famous victory where we’d punched above our weight
A tie against Boavista up next, we really couldn’t wait

The Bhoys and Ghirls of Seville

Off to the final, a hundred thousand descending on Seville
A memory that will last a lifetime, a truly wonderful thrill
After a run that none of us will ever forget
Filled with memories, and fun, and new friends that we met
A new challenge lay ahead directly in store
We’d set a hefty precedent, this time we would demand more

After a nerve wracking semi final against a Portuguese foe
We’d face another man o’ war, in the shape of Porto
They beaten some decent teams on the road
A French, Turkish and a Greek in an uncompromising mode

They’d been scoring goals for fun, and certainly weren’t weak
Their defence had also been solid, very few goals they had leaked
It was their performance in the semi that really stamped their mark
Playing the famous fascists of Lazio completely off the park

We entered the final as massive underdogs
Knew it would be difficult, at times a massive slog
But we were full of hope, and wouldn’t give it up without a fight
The bhoys had earned their place, and were confident of giving them a fright

Our qualification for the final had sparked a scramble of proportions that were seismic
The biggest football club in the world, the famous Glasgow Celtic
I was supposed to be going with a group of fans to Torremolinos
It all fell through at a very late stage, all of a sudden I felt lost
My wee mammy mobilised, and stepped in to save the day
In her unique, incomparable and inimitable way

She spent days researching to find me options that would work
Full of stoic determination to make sure I didn’t end up stuck
After days of research, and spending time on the phone
She came up trumps with a plan for me to get there alone
It would involve automobiles, and planes, and trains
I knew I would get there somehow, with her at the reins

The day finally arrived for the start of my quest
The opportunity of a lifetime, I felt truly blessed
The first leg was a trip to the north of the emerald isle
Via a cheap budget airline, not exactly travelling in style

I got an early flight so start me on my way
Had a lot of ground to cover that day
Arrived safely in Belfast, or Linenopolis to some
Thankfully never came across any Loyalists beating their drums

Grabbed a bus outside the airport to take me into town
Never had time to stay, and take a proper look around
From there I had an onward trip, I had a to catch a train
To take me on to Dublin, to hear Irishmen sign again
A place that’s known colloquially as the Pale
Where sometimes at night you can hear the Banshees wail

I sat on the train, alone with my thoughts
Only a couple of hours, it was a pretty short trot
When I got there, I tried to navigate my way
To the hostel my Mum had booked, my home for the day

Away back then, you didn’t have the satellite navigation
The search was prolonged and filled me with consternation
I stumbled on a statue of historical significance
A man world renowned for his literary magnificence
James Joyce, the author of Ulysses
A book that brought me intellectually to my knees

I stopped a passer by to take a photo to capture the moment
With an actual camera, showing how much time has since went
They were accommodating, and friendly, and done me a favour
Before I continued on my mission, I couldn’t afford to waiver

Back to my task of trying to find the my digs for the night
Sooner rather than later before I lost the daytime light
The name of the street, pretty easy to remember
Marlborough made me think of a burning cigarette ember
Just beside O’Connell Street, and the famous Temple Bar district
A tremendously lively location my old dear had picked

The name of the hostel, sounded warm and appealing
The Rainbow, a pleasant reception I was  undeniably feeling
The girl at the desk couldn’t have made me feel any more welcome
Providing a service that was above and beyond, and then some

My room mates were from two opposite ends of the globe
The guy was a kiwi, the girl from France I was told
Told them I was headed for the final in Seville and was met with blank stares
No idea what I was talking about and looked as if they never cared

I sat on my bed and felt a spring shoot up my arse
The mattress was old and tattered, and to be honest a bit of a farce
Hung around for ten minutes, just enough time to organise my stuff
Before heading out to have a quiet drink in the pub

On the way back dived into the shop and grabbed myself some beers
My room was empty when I returned, and moved back down through the gears
It was time to relax, it had been a long energy sapping day
A couple of drinks to dreamland would send me on my way

Got up in the middle of the night, a smoke out the window I tried to sneak
Turned around and observed my room mates were having a peek
Straight at me with a disapproving look in both their eyes
There was no point trying to hide it, no point in telling lies
The hostel had been very clear, it was completely non smoking
But I simply couldn’t help myself, I was absolutely choking

Concluded the best option was just to finish it, and head back to bed
Make sure I got a decent sleep for what would be a long day ahead
Thankfully I slept like a log all throughout the night
Meant I was fresh as a daisy when I got up for my flight

Checked out of the hostel, thanked them for their hospitality
Back on road, into the Dublin centrality
Down a famous stretch bearing the name of my cousins
Walking down O’Connell Street, absolutely buzzing
Past the GPO, the sight of the famous easter rising
Rebels who fought like lions, completely uncompromising

Plenty of shuttle buses which were bound for the airport
It wasn’t far beyond the outskirts, and the journey would be short
It was the start of summer, the sun was radiant up in the sky
In a few hours I’d be in Portugal, it would be that warm I’d almost fry

The flight from Dublin was jam packed with Ghirls and Bhoys
Belting out the songs, and making lots of noise
Unfortunately for me, where I ended up seated
Was not the way I’d hoped I’d be treated

A family sat behind me, their wee boy was badly behaved
At times its was arguably truly depraved
His kicks rained against my back like boulders in a landslide
It got to the point it was so annoying I almost cried
Touched down in Albufeira, it felt like sweet relief
Of a comfortable journey I’d been robbed by a juvenile thief

The transfer to the hotel was seamless and devoid of any problems
Which was agreeable, and desirable, as I couldn’t be arsed trying to solve them
Checked in to the hotel, it had everything I would need
They were pleasant and welcoming I had to concede

Once I was settled, wandered out to the pool to cool down
Heard voices that generated a familiar accent, and sound
‘Where ur ye fae?’ I enquired with a voice that was polite
‘Easterhoose’ they replied, meaning they wouldn’t take any shite

Sat wae the boays, had some vodkas and beers
Celebrated the Celts with some songs and some cheers
Staggered back to my room, in dire need of a rest
It had been a long day, my fortitude put to the test

Woke up the next day, relaxed and revitalised
Ready to face the day, renewed and reenergised
Out for a wander to find a local pub
Where I could grab a cold pint, and some appetising grub

Barely had to stumble a few steps from the entrance to the hotel
Found somewhere that for the duration of my trip would serve me really well
The Kilt and Celt, a place where I’d end up spending much of my time
And therefore deserves a place in this narrative that rhymes

I’d also have company for the duration of my stay
Danny Bhoy, Keiran and Keko had also made their way
A wee package holiday to Albufeira shore
On our way to the final, truly Celtic to the core

We found a cracking pub that suited us down to the ground
Erins Isle at the end of the strip, belting out rebellious sounds
It came as no surprise we spent most of our nights there
Soaking up the buzz and atmosphere without so much as a care

One day I was out for a drink, its was still early bells
Heard some voices behind me, they were familiar, I could tell
Small world as usual, it was more boys from back home
Hindey, James Bradley and some others had come to roam

They were taking a chance, they were all barred from Spain
An incident a few years back had gained them notorious fame
Their behaviour hadn’t improved based on their antics of the previous night
A couple of them ended up in the jail, with each other they began to fight

One of them thought it would be funny to boot the others chair
He fell to the ground, and was rolling aboot the flair
The Police were called in to stop it turning into a riot
Took a couple to the cells, told the rest to stay quiet
They were lucky it happened before they crossed the border
The Police over there would have severely punished their disorder

After a few days of lapping it up in a Portuguese seaside town
The time of reckoning had arrived, it had been fast in coming around
The night before, when all was done and all was said
I left the pub a bit earlier than usual and went to my bed
We had a decent journey ahead of us, it lay in advance
Of an enjoyable trip I wanted to maximise my chance

The following day I woke up fresh at the very crack of dawn
Singing a song of how the young might see the morn
Which was appropriate given the company I was in
With all the Irish voices it felt as if I was back in Dublin

While I waited on the bus I had a scoop or two
Took my places amongst my comrades, faithful through and through
Moved to the front of the bus queue, met a guy I had to thank
It was a tour operator who knew my Mum well, an Irish guy named Frank

He’d spoken to her so often in the lead up, almost every single day
Knew who I was as soon as I spoke, knew right away
‘Are you Kathleens boy, I know your Mum well?’
‘I know who you are John Paul, it’s not hard to tell’

My old dear was also part of the travelling army of hoops
To celebrate reaching half a century, what a fiftieth, woop woop!
She very kindly made me up a detailed itinerary 
Which she’s kept as a souvenir up until this very day

We didn’t have far to travel, it wasn’t very far
Before we got to the city of Seville, the Pearl of Andalusia
Made a beeline for a car park that the organisers had to allocate
Which meant no messing about or unnecessary wait

We hoped to get tickets but knew there was very little chance
At least we had prepared ourselves mentally for this in advance
Stepped off the bus, we were approached by two men
Claimed to be selling tickets, suddenly we thought ‘well then’
They offered them for a thousand euros, must have thought we were buttoned up the back
We should have took them off them for their cheek, and gave them a derogatory smack

As soon as I disembarked, I began my quest with determination
I had to find my mates, and get to their destination
It was going to difficult, as I couldn’t make contact by phone
The networks couldn’t handle the traffic, this left me all alone

Like my hostel in Dublin, I’d have to find them manually
Have a proper wander round to see what I could see
A hundred thousand fans had descended on the city
Like a needle in a haystack, trying to find my welcoming committee

I’d been searching for an hour, then suddenly on the horizon
I observed a familiar flag, I felt my synapses fire and my excitement rising
The Bobby Murdoch CSC, the famous Rutherglen Vogue
Standing right in front of it was a group of familiar rogues
I couldn’t believe I’d found them, it hadn’t taken me long
It was time to join my joyful comrades in a raucous sing song

Stood out in the sunshine to enjoy some warm beers
Wanted some a bit cooler so went to a hotel that was near
Walked into the hotel, each of us carrying a bottle of tonic wine
Looked a bit out of place, the surroundings were fine
We were all well behaved, full of fun rather than trouble
They were happy to let us in knowing their takings would at least double

There was an atmosphere of love, and of mutual respect
Even if the conversation was limited through lack of common dialect
Both sets of fans were dancing, and singing, and getting along
Celebrating the occasion of the day, some even opted to share a bong
This was back in a day without a blanket ban on smoking
Resulting in a densely polluted atmosphere resemblant of a den of opium

Stayed there for half an hour before getting our stuff and clearing
Exposed once again to the midday sun, it was unbearable and searing
We had no other choice, had to get in amongst our own kind
So we could make enquiries about those that we still had to find

My Uncle Tony, and Bru, and their wingman Charlie Cronan
Had become separated whilst driving through, and were now aimlessly roaming
The chances of finding them in amongst so large a crowd were plausibly sparse
Whilst not quite a write off, and not as far fetched as a farce
I’d managed to find them after all with a large slice of the rub of the green
Who’s to say we couldn’t reunite this famous travelling team

We wandered through the city, in the shadow of the mountains
Cooled ourselves down by frolicking effervescently in the fountains
One of the more humorous themes of an unforgettable day
Was one I look back at with complete hilarity

They were incensed with the size of Joes manhood 
Felt it appropriate to share round the neighbourhood
‘Check this out, look at the size of Joes Knob!’
In fairness it was almost as big as a club

Stopped off at a café to give our fatigued legs a wee rest
To order in some ice cold beers that would leave us feeling refreshed and full of zest
A motorbike sat parked and delicately poised outside
Me and the bold Paul wanted to take it for a ride

Got ourselves in a pose for a souvenir and photo
As soon as it was snapped heard the shout of ‘go, go, go!’
The owner wasn’t impressed with us violating his inalienable right
To protect our own property, so we quickly took flight

The day was getting on, kick off time was creeping up
Our moment of reckoning, to get our hands on the big cup
T’was time to make our final preparations and get settled for the match
Had to make sure we were stocked up adequately on booze, and get a big batch
A trip to the supermarket to get stocked up for our soiree
Left with trolleys full of cargo, to the big screens we were on our way

The players came out onto the pitch, the Celtic faithful roared in delight
The stadium was a dense blanket of gold, and green, and white
The pitch was so dry, baldier than Big Bad Johns noggin
With temperatures in the nineties, no chance of waterlogging

The start of the match was scrappy and nervous from both sides
Sizing each other up, a tactic you could say was pretty wise
Porto were relying on playing the high long ball
Not an effective tactic against a back three who were so tall

Twenty minutes in, we won a free kick
Larsson bent it cleverly round the wall, but Baia got down too quick
Half an hour had went by, we created another chance
Agathe swung it in, Sutton almost caught it with a glance

A few minutes later, Porto almost took the lead
We were a whisker away from being the first to concede
Deco created an opening, with craft, skill and guile
Douglas saved well, and flashed a relieved smile

Then our spirits took a nosedive, right on the stroke of half time
Alenitchev hit a shot, drew a tremendous save from Douglas
Our poor defending was the equivalent of a footballing crime
Derlei followed up to slot it home, and silenced every one of us

The build up to the second half was filled with anxiety and tension
The flow of conversation stuttered, by natural extension
A whistle shrieked, and the second half got underway
Hopefully the half time team talk would see an uplift in our play

We pressed them right from kick off, clearly determined not to give up
Resolute, and resilient, and focused on winning that famous cup
We got our just reward, our hope had been recaptured
The King of Kings scored a belter, and sent us into raptures

Agathe swung the ball across in his direction, gave him an inkling of a chance
The wee man took it gloriously, sending us into a frenzied dance
He leapt up like a river salmon on its way home to spawn
The accuracy of the header, gave us new hope and a new dawn

Back across the face of goal, into the net it nestled
Baia was left without a chance, up from the ground he wrestled
His two hundredth goal for the club, a dazzling milestone indeed
Could he add to his tally, and send us into an unexpected lead

It wasn’t long after that they started their cheating antics
Rolling about the floor at the slightest of touches, clearly acting fanatics
We had little time to sit back and settle on our laurels
We once again came off second best in our ongoing defensive quarrels
Alenitchev involved again, this time a goal rather than assist
The ball to him from Deco was perfect, and there was no chance he would miss

We rolled our sleeves up once again, undeterred by the face of adversity
The game was end to end, knew more chances would come our way
Less than three minutes passed before we brought ourselves back on par
By now you know the drill, it was our Swedish superstar
Thommo swung in a corner tantalisingly round the post
Smashed another perfect header past Baia, leaving him desolate and lost

Their cheating began to accelerate, they were doing everything the could
To stop the flow of the game, as we were clearly more in the mood
Casualties began to pile up, going down as if they had been shot
Began to tarnish the occasion, a questionable style they had brought

The game entered the last half hour, only a third of the game to go
The famous Glasgow Celtic against the legendary Porto
We pressed them with gusto, looked the far more likely to score
Began to turn the screw, knew we had to demand more

Things began to get nervous in the last ten minutes of the game
Both teams reticent to commit in case a mistake cost them their moment of fame
The remainder of the match was played almost exclusively in the middle third
Would someone grab a late winner, and have the final word?

Four minutes of extra time were all the ref saw fit to add
Though with all their rolling about, this made us slightly mad
All their disruption had affected the flow of the match
Clear efforts to stop our fluency every time we built up a batch

So onwards we marched, the game went to extra time
For the first, and last, time a silver goal would decide
Most of us struggled to get our head around the machinations
Around what it would take to secure victory and jubilation

Only thirty minutes left to separate the teams before penalties
If it went that far then blind luck would decide, it was anybodys
The first five minutes were tentative and reserved
Then Balde was sent off for a second yellow he deserved
It became about hanging on, and trying to steal it on the break
Our chances hung by a thread, we didn’t want to forsake

We made it to half time, the silver goal became irrelevant
Bravely pushed forward, not happy to sit back and wait for penalties
Only five minutes left, a shoot out was in sight
We were undone, and unravelled and faced an unjust plight
It was Derlei again who had proved to be our nemesis
He exploited our inferior numbers, the equivalent of a paresis

Douglas done well to save Valentes chip, but could only parry it away
That wee Brazilian bastard nicked in to ruin our day
There was no time left to pull it back, it had confirmed the worst of our fears
Left the entirety of a famous football club inconsolable and in floods of tears

I didn’t have any time to stand around and grieve
If I was going to catch my bus, I had to up sticks and leave
Said my goodbyes to my comrades on the day
With that I was offski, I was promptly on my way

I wasn’t very confident I knew how to find the bus
In my hoops supporting brethren I faithfully place my trust
Followed in the same direction everyone else seemed to be headed
The prospect of being stuck in Spain was one I frankly dreaded

As the saying goes, fortune favours the brave
Or in my case my foolish valour a path to home it had paved
Arrived at the bus park, jam packed full of coaches
A quick scout and look around, I found mine and approaches
The driver who was standing outside
Definitely the one who gave us the outward ride

The bodies arrived one by one, not a smile to be seen 
The prospect of getting home was one to which most were keen
There was a butcher on the bus, he hailed from Belshill
His name was Lenny, and he couldn’t sit still
Turned out to be a bit of a comedian, made me chuckle most of the way
Made it unexpectedly a very pleasant journey

He wasn’t supposed to be on our bus, technically he was a stowaway
The funniest thing about it was he never knew where he was supposed to stay
Couldn’t remember the name of the resort, never mind the name of the hotel
A flippant attitude to his predicament, blasé and unconcerned, oh well

I returned back safely to Portugal that night, had a nightcap to send me to sleep
If I stayed up I would have reflected on the game and it would have made weep
When I woke up in the morning I felt a bit more philosophical and clever
We may have lost the game, but the memories would stay with us forever

That night I made my usual walk to the other end of the strip
To have a swally in Erins Isle, and bring the curtains down on the trip
That night will live with me forever, a spectacle to behold
The pub emptied uniformly, out on to the road
A crowd of hundreds began to sign like a choir in celebration of their team
We’d live to fight another day, and continue to chase our dreams
Walk with me oh my lord, through the darkest night and brightest day
Be at my side oh lord, hold my hand and guide me on my way

On the way back, once again my trip was indirect
At least this time I had a better idea of what to expect
From Albufeira to Dublin, where I would stay a wee night
A chance to see some more of the city as time was less tight

Went on the open top bus tour, the wind swirling through my hair
Enjoying a wee tipple as I toured a city so fair
Since I went that time I’ve never been back
Though I’d definitely like another chance to engage in the craic

The gorgeous River Liffey cascading through the city
So many other things to take in, so beautiful and pretty
Past the Irish Parliament, the famous Seanad
Driving along a wide and spacious esplanade

Up past the Guinness Factory, their most famous export
Along with a revolutionary spirit, and indomitable heart
Down the famous O’Connell Street, and the iconic GPO
Where brave men stood against imperialists and said its time to go

When I arrived at Dublin Airport, the place was absolute chaos
The Heineken Cup had taken place that day, Poor Perpignan had lost
Toulouse had been victorious, twenty two to seventeen
Fulfilled their ambitions of becoming Euro Champions, t’was no longer a dream

I hustled, and bustled and navigated my way to my gate
It wouldn’t be long now, I hoped my plane wouldn’t be late
I was tired and exhausted and just wanted to get home to bed
To dream happy dreams, and get some well deserved zeds

When I touched down in Glasgow, I was completely blown away
My friends had turned up to give me a welcome home party
They’d done it in style, bespoke banners to mark me arriving
It was unexpected, and touching, and definitely surprising

It was a fitting way to end what had been an epic journey
An experience that will live in my heart forever and a day

I’m going to add a late appendix to this tale
To add insult to injury, to win the league we did fail
Went into the final day dead level on points
Looked like goal difference would decide who to anoint

They had an advantage going in in the shape of goals scored
Prayed we would get the result we needed, to god we implored
Done everything we could to swing the pendulum in our favour
Of a league whose destination was sitting on a razor

A four nil win should have really been enough
Somehow they scored six, to take it would be tough
Not that I’m a conspiracy theorist, but questions were asked
Did they lie down in order for so many goals to go past?

Big Sutton asked the question, full of rage and full of anger
These days his commentary really annoys them, they think he’s a wanker
To be fair he would regard that as a monumental success
His mission is to wind them up and he tries his very best to

In text book fashion, I set about drowning my sorrows
Never gave a second thought that I was working tomorrow
Woke up in a hell of a state
Fuck work, I’m getting wrecked, they can wait
Supposed to start at eight, so called in to say
I’ll start at eleven as I’m rough, is that okay?

Focused on resolving my hangover, no time for breakfast
Gees the voddy over, lets just call it ‘wreckfast’
Proceeded to spank most a litre
It came from duty free so was a good bit cheaper

Eventually came to a critical point
Had to get myself to work, had to exit he joint
By the time I’d pulled myself together it was almost two o’clock
Called a taxi, I was ready to rock

Decked myself out in what I believed to be appropriate clobber
A Seville T-shirt, and Celtic scarf, looked smart and looked proper
I certainly could if I got creative, If I would dare to be brave
Decided to stick on something more appropriate for a rave
A glitter covered tri colour bowler hat, to set off my attire
Moved me a step closer to the inevitability of being fired

Bounced out of a taxi just up the road from work
Steaming, dressed like a madman, and not giving a fuck
Poured myself down the hill, towards the front entrance
Wondering what my boss would assign me as a reflective penance

Stoated in the front door without a modicum of shame
Had I been sacked on the spot, only one person I could blame
When the assistant manager saw me, he ushered me out the way
Had to hide me out the road until my manager was finished for the day

Had barely signed myself in, headed up to the pub
Confident of seeing the regulars, the usual lunch club
Necked a couple of pints to make me feel steady
To face the disciplinary music I now felt ready

Staggered casually along the road from the familiar woodend
In times of destitute hangover, so often my relieving friend
Slouched in the door for a second time that day
Like a bad smell I simply wouldn’t go away

Escorted round the store towards the garden centre cupboard
They were doing everything within their power to keep me out of trouble
Crashed out on top of of the garden furniture cushions
Off for a sleep, t’was sure to be a good one

Awoken suddenly, given a terrible fright
‘Time for you to go home, and get out of our sight’
My manager had left, he was away for the day
Ten minutes after he had left I was bundled into a taxi

With that our run to the final was officially over
Had to face the reality of straightening up and becoming sober
What a run it had been beyond my wildest imagination
Lucky to come away from it still with a respectable reputation!

A story I would share as part of my legacy, and short time on this Earth
Make sure every second count, from the moment of your birth

Bayern – Free the Munich One

We dusted ourselves down and dressed ourselves up
For a whole new assault on the big champions league cup
Our group was a belter, and left no room for error
Some would have described as a group of death, and of terror

Anderlecht the underdogs, would be up for a slog
Olympique Lyonnais, would be full of class and full of grace
The team on paper from whom most we would learn
Colloquially known as the Suden der Stern

To kick it our campaign off, we began against a European leader
A face off against Bayern, in a famous old theatre
The Olympic stadium in all of its glory
Laid the foundations for the next leg of my story

Another journey on which I would be flying solo
Why not, as the famous saying goes ,‘YOLO!’
Signed up for  package involving an overnight stay
Meant before going home I would refreshed after hitting the hay

The day trips were exorbitantly expensive and cost a few bob
Some might even say it was the equivalent of being robbed
Typically three ton for your flight and hotel
In most cases you had to find someone with a ticket to sell
In this case my luck was in, I’d secured one from the club
Once again of the green I’d been given the rub

On the plane there, I was given the seat by the emergency exit
The stewardess politely explained that meant I couldn’t have a drink
This simply would stand, this had to be corrected
I’d have to keep it on the down low, at least that way she would think
I was adhering to the rules that had been unfairly thrust upon me
I would be fine to have a swally as long as I made sure she didn’t see

Had a good old chinwag with my comrade at my side
Ended up swapping Euro stories of trips we’d been on far and wide
He told me of a trip he’d been on  not so long ago
Our famous away goals win over Celta Vigo

Things during the flight had got a little out of hand
An order came down they were to emergency land
That’s exactly what they done, upon Cardiff they unexpectedly descended
Not the ideal way for their Euro trip to have ended
According to my new found friend, they’d exaggerated and jumped the gun
They were only a wee bit drunk and having a joke and a bit of fun

Touched down in Munich airport, after a few beers on the flight
My first impression was it was spotless, and pristine, and bright
Another fine feat of famous German engineering
In a few hours the famous Glasgow Celtic I’d be cheering

Straight on to the coach, my hotel transfer awaited
Although expensive the tour company so far couldn’t be berated
The flight had been as smooth as a newborn weans arse
The service was decent, and stewardesses far from sparse
We’d barely been left five minutes in the airport whilst we were waiting 
For the coach to arrive, we had been eagerly anticipating

A pleasant journey from the airport, some cool sights on the way
The foundations of the Allianz Arena, where soon Bayern would play
It would be a shame when they departed from the Olympic stadium
Full of history, and memories, their equivalent of a palladium

Hit the city centre, the capital of the free state of Bavaria
Known for its love of beer, a truly revered area
The most famous beer festival in the world, the renowned Oktoberfest
For which people all over the world will have no hesitation to attest

My hotel came into sight, regally named the Kings
Not ideal for me as a republican, superfluous are such things
The interior was grand, and beautifully decorated
Posh and grand, and miles away from being understated

Got myself checked in, the formalities out the way
Once I dumped my stuff in my room I could finally get out to play
Rolled a couple of wee one skinners for a smoke when I went out
Never thought to be careful with them, indeed I would flout

Found a local supermarket to buy myself some alcopops
I was going through a weird phase and thought Bacardi breezers were tops
Back to the hotel with my cargo in tow
Ready for action, here we, here we fucking go

As quick as a flash I had knocked back four
Before heading back out to play via the exit door
As I swaggered down the street, I was approached by a radio crew
Can we ask you some questions, it will only take two?
I was happy to oblige, and give them what they wanted
Before heading back towards the city centre, I confidently sauntered

I arrived at the main square, the place was a cacophony of noise
The famous Glasgow Celtic, the Green and White Bhoys
Met a couple of Stuttgart fans, who’d came through for the match
Celtic were now their second team and they had come through for a swatch

Before I even got to watch the game
I cemented my legacy with a different kind of fame
Like Stuttgart I’d came under the judicial microscope
This time it was my fault I simply had to cope 

Jailed again, for smoking dope in the middle of the main square
Never even saw them coming, wasn’t even aware
They dragged me back to my hotel like a common criminal
Made sure the humiliation was extensive and far from minimal

Took me up to my room, and tore the place apart looking for my stuff
When they couldn’t find it I have to admit, I was pretty chuffed
Still made the game after some robust negotiating
Straight into the ground with very little waiting

We played amazing that night totally out of our skins
Very nearly shocked them, and left with the win
Thommo the hunslayer gave us an invaluable lead
We deserved to be ahead, we showed flair and showed speed

Undone with two late goals from Roy Maakay
Poor goalkeeping the cause, past Hedman they did fly
Despondently travelled back to my digs in the Kings Hotel
We’d tried our very best, couldn’t fault them, we gave them hell

My post match adventure turned out to be full of hilarity
Met a group of hoops comrades, and followed them cheerily
Proudly draped in the flag and colours of Palestine
Went into a bar for some beer and some wine

They obviously knew what they were doing, I was naive and oblivious 
Until I realised what was going on, developed a countenance that was griseous
I looked around me a second time, surrounded by ladies of the night
Began to panic, and make my plans to take flight
Said goodbye to the bhoys, thanked them for kindly taking me under their wing
Finished up my drink, left the establishment, and sauntered back to the kings

I was all the more grateful the authorities hadn’t found my stash
I could chill with a smoke after a night out on the lash
Passed out on my bed, knackered and exhausted
It had been a long tiring day, during which I’d been accosted

It had been a shame we hadn’t returned with the points
Just as it had been a travesty that I had been jailed with my joints
All in all it had still turned out to be a great trip
Looked forward to the next one, to once again let rip
The next one would involve going to two destinations
Amsterdam and Brussels, hoped this time it wouldn’t end in frustration

Amsterdam/Brussels – A tale of two cities

For my next trip I would have company, deviating from the norm
Delighted to have my younger bro on board, someone to join me in a song
The wee man had done exceptionally well on his exams
Established himself as a polymath,  so I rewarded him with a trip to the Dam

Although he was a good bit younger, and came along late
When it came to academia he left the rest of us at the starting gate
Eight ones he had bagged, he had done the clean sweep
His hard work had paid off, he had made a big leap

The Dam was the starting point for the next destination that would loom
Back on my travels, as they would once again resume
This time a trip to Brussels, another famous European capital
Full of culture, and nuance, and far from archetypal

There was very good reason we based ourselves in the Dam
It was only a short journey away and would work out a charm
We stayed at a hotel in the red light district, the Plaza de Falcon
Perfectly situated to get our tourist vibe on

We spent a couple of cracking days, relaxing and wandering about
Enjoying a Heineken or two, to prevent the risk of a thirsty drought
Didn’t want to waste too much energy before we joined our comrades
Though opted for a visit to a stadium not unfamiliar with victory parades
Went for a wee jaunt through to the famous home of Ajax
Only a short train journey away from the centre, wouldn’t take long to get back

Went for some light refreshments in a sports bar on the stadium periphery
Made sure we only had a couple rather than go down a slope that was slippery
After a relaxing spell camped out chilling in the bar
Headed round the corner to the museum of football for a guided tour
A club which in the seventies immersed itself in European success
Won the big cup three times in a row which to that surely attests

First they went to Wembley, victorious against Panathanaikos
Then at the home of their biggest rivals, consigned Internazionale to a loss
Italian opposition stood in their way again the following year
They filled the old lady of Juventus full of trepidation and full of fear

On our way back for the train, noticed some graffiti on the wall
‘Freedom for Palestine’ for justice came the call
Took a photo in front of it to show my support
Invariably by doing this controversy you court

A club named after a Greek mythological hero
Though I used to really like them now my support for them is zero
As well as having a connection to the terrorist Israel
When we played them a few years ago they subjected our supporters to hell

Their stadium has now been renamed after their goat, Johan Cruyff
A wonderful player, who terrorised defences and caused them strife
Never got a chance to play against Scotland in seventy eight
Stressed after an attempted kidnapping, never crossed the airport gate
Had to sit and watch the game on the telly as Scotland ripped them apart
Archie Gemmels goal, one of the greatest ever, off the chart

I digress from my story, let me bring it back on track
Start once again recounting our journey, some memories and facts
After a couple of days enjoying ourselves in what would become my second home
We’d had plenty of laughs and enjoyable moments as about the city we roamed

The night before our trip to Brussels, got down for an early night
Up at a stupid time the following morning, at least for a train and not a flight
The estimated journey time came in at about three hours
Plenty of time to down a decent amount of beers

While we were on the train, things took an unexpected twist
Brendan was supposed to join us, but his planning had been remiss
A mix up over who was supposed to be watching the wean
Meant he had to pull out and wouldn’t be getting on a plane

This caused an initial period of stress and consternation
It provided an unexpected level of complication
Our intention was to meet up with the O’Learys Bhoys
To crash on his hotel room floor after a night full of alcohol fuelled noise
After hearing of his change of plans we weren’t sure what to do
Decided we would seek them out anyway and become an informal part of their crew

When we alighted from the train for the city centre we made a dash
Upon arriving we found ourselves in the middle of a stramash
A protest was underway, unsure of the reason that was involved
As a result, we never found out if their issue ever got resolved

We took a gamble by not having anywhere to stay on the night
Fortunately we met the up with the guys so it worked out alright
Unable to get a ticket, consigned to watch it in the pub
Another poor result, of the green we never got the rub

They were reduced to ten men, and we failed to capitalise
To the occasion we inexplicably failed to rise
They defended well, they were stoic and they were strong
We tried hard and persevered for a period that was long

Came a cropper with only twenty minutes to go
A great ball from Wilhelmsson straight on to Arunas toe
He fired it past Hedman from only ten yards out
Dragged our hopes of qualifying from the group into massive doubt

Poor Billso was so disillusioned he stripped down to his pants to protest
Its safe to say it was a terrible performance, it definitely wasn’t our best
He decorated his underwear with a plastic beer medallion
A joker, a raconteur, a cheeky big rapscallion

Hazy memories of sitting in the back of a taxi, absolutely blazing
They insisted he take them to McDonalds, doing their usual hell raising
After a great deal of messing about we were on our way to the hotel
Back to the place we hoped to temporarily dwell
We chanced our arm hoping they wouldn’t realise we weren’t guests
If we were caught out we were fucked, never had a place to rest

Decided to hide in plain sight, they harassed them to open the kitchen back up
Only sandwiches were made available to us as pre bedtime grub
We were lucky to get anything given the ungodly hour
They had a cheek asking for anything as we had been at McDs just before
Scoffed a delicious ham sandwich, which was delightfully plain
Exactly as I had asked for, Exactly as I had explained

All set for the night, it was time to turn ourselves in
Delighted to have a roof over our heads, anything less would have been a sin
We bunked down that night on the Campanile floor
‘Davey Quinn your nearly eighty’ was a popular score

An early rise for me and Dave, to get back to our home base
A short walk to the train station, which meant we didn’t need to chase
We hadn’t secured the points that we’d set out to achieve
Switched our focus to Lyon, we were still full of belief

The Lions of Lyon

Of qualifying for the knockout stages we still had a slim chance
This time we’d be off to the Eastern Coast of France
A match against the giants of Olympique Lyonnais
The way we’d played in earlier games we’d no reason to be phased

We took them to task when we played them at Parkhead
A wonderful performance, a lot of positive things were said
At half time things were still tight at nothing each
We hoped we would have enough so their defence we could breach
Handed a golden opportunity in the shape of a penalty
Thommo couldn’t convert and send the crowd into revelry

The interval break, full of fanfare and a special guest
An award at half time celebrating the fact our fans are the best
UEFA decided to give us an trophy for fair play, if they will
For our fans exceptional behaviour on our big day, in Seville
The presentation was made by their president Lennart Johannsen
Sixty thousand people in the crowd, with some celebrating and dancing

For the King of Kings, the opponents were hugely symbolic
The last time he’d went down exhibiting behaviour far from histrionic
His leg sickeningly shattered as he went on the attack
An injury from which a lesser man would have never came back
Anybody who thought that he could never be as strong
Were proved indubitably, fundamentally, convincingly wrong

If truth be told he turned out to be the difference between the two teams
Giving us hope in our hearts, and igniting our dreams
With only twenty minutes left on the clock to go
He split their defence, putting on a spectacular show

Taking on the role of provider rather than score
He done an exquisite job, he couldn’t do any more
A scintillating cross, put away expertly by Liam Miller
One nil up at such a late stage, a second goal would be a killer

Larsson toyed with the defender, showed skill and vision
Sent it over to Sutton, who sent them crashing towards derision
The big man was well known for his ability with his head
He done it once again, effectively put the game to bed
The crown was delirious, sent into rapture
Homeward bound, happily ever after

The headlines the following day, in all honesty were pretty clever
Talking about how well we’d played, and how we’d delivered
‘The Lyon Tamers’ was probably top of the pile
The one that made me smirk gleefully, with a massively wide smile
I’ve taken this opportunity to talk about the home game
As it was a shining moment in our history, and deserves the fame

The focus of this poem though, is my visit to the East of France
Could we do it? Could we beat them? To the group stage could we advance?
I’d opted for the day trip and declined the overnight stay
Once again Dave would provide the company though I’d meet him on the day

I’d managed to get a ticket to get me into the game
This time I had press accreditation to bring me right into the frame
My wee Bros mates accompanied him mad Duff and Smiddy
They provided many moments that made me laugh and made me giddy

Kept in contact with them as I neared arrival, said they’d be at the main square
Said I’d give them a shout when I touched down with a view to meeting them there
As I approached on the bus, I gazed out of the window, it all looked so pretty
The sun was gleaming, casting its beautiful light, on the periphery of this famous city

Jumped off the bus, had a quick scan around
Luckily for me, they were easily found
Immediately got my priorities in order
Headed to the nearest bevvy shop, which was just round the corner

Had a look at what they had to offer, a quick scour of the shelves
Wanted something that was strong and would quickly get me skelped
Picked up the French equivalent of Orange md twenty twenty
Seventeen percent alcohol by volume would send me on my way

Grabbed a case of beers to help wash it down
Something to sip on as we enjoyed our time in the town
Whilst back at the square, we enjoyed a moment of fame
Interviewed for Scottish television, by a reporter called Jane
Her surname was Lewis, and she was instantly recognisable
She’d worked on telly for many years, her reputation was sizeable

The square where we congregated was adorned with figures from the past
A perfectly sculptured statue of Louis the fourteenth was wonderfully cast
He was a strong willed monarch who commanded obedience
The longest reign in history, he was known for his expedience
Seventy two years plus one hundred and ten days
Influenced the course of European history in a multitude of ways
Known as Louis le Grand or Le Roi Soleil
He had a reputation for always getting his own way

I took the opportunity to get a photographic souvenir
Pulled out the Palestine flag to a chorus of cheers
Took another one with my wine in my hand, the beers in the other
Thanked the photographer gracefully who just happened to be my brother

We took a trip through to the ground, an idea we thought was sensible
Wanted to make sure we knew where we were going without it being ostensible
Only took us about fifteen minutes to get to the Stade de Garland
A set of imposing gates and statue of a lion perched right outside the ground

Thought since we’d made the trip through we would check out the Lyon store
It was tiny compared to the Celtic superstore which of merchandise had so much more
There was a poignant tribute to a player just beside the front door
Marc Vivien Foe taken too soon, to give he had so much more
Posthumously decorated with the Commander of the national order of valour
Manchester City retired the number twenty three as a mark of respect and honour

By the time we got back to the square the party was swinging
Big Smiddy had a guitar out and he was leading the singing
It felt like a rebel concert, not unlike Charlie and the Bhoys
There was revelry, and dancing, and uncontained noise

Dusk began to fall, and things began to get dark
The time had arrived to make a second journey to the park
The value of our first visit soon became clear
Knew exactly where we were going, others followed as we steered

When we got to the ground we had to go in a separate direction
They were in with the masses, I was in the press section
To be fair they ended up with the better end of the deal
I was stuck in with the Lyon fans, towards me their aggression I could feel

The game started off, it was a very tense affair
Both teams still very much in the hunt for a place if they showed enough passion and flair
Unfortunately for us, they got off to an absolute flier
They went one nil up before of their defence we enquired
Barely six minutes on the clock and Juninho struck a free kick
It rebounded off the bar and Elber followed up to make it stick
Twenty minutes later, we scored, we were back
Thanks to the big legend who goes by the moniker of hart attack
Followed up on a shot from Larrson, tucked away the rebound
The travelling hoops army collectively burst into frenzied sound

We dug in deep to get to half time with scores still sitting all square
Still in the game, still up for the fight, our chance was very much there
O’Neill would give us a half time team talk that would get the Bhoys fired up
Hopefully enough to deliver a performance to propel us into the knock out round  of the cup

The French Champions started the second half with a whirlwind of attacks
Seven minutes into the second half we were undone by another Juninho smack
This time it came from thirty yards, but never hit the bar
It crashed into the back of the net, a brilliant goal from so far

Although they gave us a torrid time, we never really lost hope
Always believed we could still do it even when they had us up against the ropes
Stuck to the task confident we would be presented with another sight of goal
Confident we could do it as I watched from the sidelines at the game unfold

With a quarter of an hour left on the clock we were rewarded for our persistence and bravado
Sutton slipped the ball home from ten yards as the Lyon defence was incommunicado
The Celtic fans were delirious, amongst that group myself included
If you’d had said before the fame we’d get the result many would have said you were deluded

At that point we were on the very cusp of qualifying
On the verge of going through there was absolutely no denying
Lyon weren’t finished, they would throw everything at us including the kitchen sink
To rob us of our advantage, and take themselves to the brink

We had put in another performance of which we should have been proud
Yet at the end of the match it was the home support who would be loud
Big Bobo Balde recklessly gave away a handball
As it was in the box it turned out to be our downfall

To be fair, the award was at the very least controversial
The big man might might have argued he was static and inertial
The ball bounced up and hit him on the underside of the arm
The award of a spot kick at that stage could do us irreversible harm

The game was sitting on a knife edge, at two goals each
Unfortunately he struck the penalty sweetly, an absolute peach
I left the ground feeling low, disappointed and despondent
A train six stops in the wrong direction, and I was completely discordant

I had put myself in a precarious position, gave myself a proper fright
If I didn’t get my act in order, there was a real chance I’d miss my flight
When I left the metro station, came above ground into fresh air
I was startled and taken aback to find there wasn’t very much there

It looked like the open countryside, surrounded by green fields
I had to work out how to get out of there before my fate was sealed
Began walking along the road, looking for ideas, and for a lifeline
Suddenly in front of me a set of spotlights began to shine
They weren’t the only lights that were shining
There were blue and red lights on top that were blinding

Clocked a Police car headed straight in my direction
Jumped right in front of it without a moment of reflection, or introspection
They screeched to a halt just in time, their countenances filled with rage
Unlikely their anger I could calm down or assuage

I skipped round to the window, and asked for an escort
Hoping they would be generous enough to take me to the airport
They looked at me with disdain, and with a distinct lack of sympathy
Sneered down their noses as they sent me packing on my way

Running out of options, running out of ideas
Had to find someone to help me, and they had to be near
After walking for another ten minutes, saw an oasis in a desert of despair
Found a Chinese restaurant, asked them to phone a taxi to take me there
At first they struggled to understand me, with my broad Scottish accent
Then I saw the look of comprehension when I switched to talking French

They were only too happy to oblige once they knew what was happening
Made the prospect of me making the flight significantly less challenging
Eighty euros in a taxi to get myself to the airport, a small price to pay
The only chance I had of getting home without an incident to report, to get me on my way

When I got into the taxi I explained we had to shift, I was in a rush
Missing my flight was a fate with which I simply didn’t want to brush
He knew exactly what I meant, pushed the pedal to the floor
About half an hour later I was sitting parked outside the airport door

We’d made it just in the nick of time, by the proverbial skin of my teeth
Checked in, went through to duty free, meeting my wee brother was such a relief
Despite the disappointment of the result, it had been a performance that made us proud
We’d make up for it when we dropped into the UEFA cup the players promised us and vowed
A trip to the fair city of Prague was next up for me and Dave
We felt elevated at the prospect, and simply couldn't wait

Partying in Prague

For my next trip abroad, a team of us would travel
To watch Celtics European fortunes before us unravel
Ventured off to Prague, a city soaked in culture and history
The four of us together, a democratic consistory

Myself, and Paul, and David and Brendan
Our attempt to qualify for the last sixteen we’d all be attending
We were keen to keep up and add to the momentum
A trip to the Czech Republic with the Bhoys would surely be jam packed full of fun
We’d done a good job in the home leg at Parkhead
To put our future on a good standing, and hold us in good stead
On paper, they should have given us a hard game
They’d punched above their weight and beaten teams of more fame
Kaiserslautern, they’d won the German Bundesliga four times
Whilst Feyenoord, to the top of Europe they’d climbed
Unfortunately they did so in nineteen seventy to our dismay
They beat in us in one of Europes biggest shocks to this day

We just had to focus on the opponent on the pitch
Forget about what they had done in previous rounds, look on it as a glitch
Got off to an absolute flyer, our talisman went a charging
Trying to put the game beyond them by opening an unassailable margin
There was only three minutes on the clock when Larsson gave us the lead
We hoped it would signal the start of a proverbial stampede

Less than ten minutes later, we found the back of the net for the second time
Big Sootys awareness was quite simply sublime
Their big defender, by the name of Vladimir Leitner
Hit a pass back to the keeper that turned out to be a shiter
Sutton nipped in and rounded the keeper to score
A predator like instinct, you couldn’t ask for any more

A mere five minutes later we really should have killed the tie
Thommo shot over the bar from close range, had to wave the chance goodbye
We went in a really strong position at the interval
Although our performance hadn’t quite reached the heights of subliminal

They’d been on the back foot for large chunks of the first half
After the break they tightened things up to prevent them becoming a stock that laughs
Only really carved out one chance to eat into our lead
A corner came in, naebody attacked it with the heed
It fell to their defender, a guy called Karel Rada
He turned well but missed his shot, he came away with Nada

We had a couple of late efforts from a defender of our own
One who had scored against Munich and made himself known
Big Varga came close with two well directed headers
It was Henke who came away with his cap bulging with feathers
Pounced on a corner from the main man Stilian
He made it three nil, forever and always our main man

A three goal lead to take with us to the Czech Republic
No away goal was conceded to make the plot thick
The conclusion of the tie should have been nothing more than a formality
Especially given their squad had been stripped with a brutal lethality
Their success against bigger opposition in previous rounds had come at a cost
Through transfers, five of their best players they had lost

We were excited about another trip away for the bhoys
A troop of youngsters we were at the time, a naive convoy
At the time there wasn’t an option for a flight that was direct
Pragues popularity was still to explode, so we would have to connect
Our first leg would be a flight down the midlands, to the east
With a bit of a wait once we arrived, an opportunity for a lunch time feast

When we touched down, of our options we made an assessment
Loughborough was the closest town where we could get a refreshment
A place best known as a centre for athletic excellence
In our case it would be used for a display of drunken nonsense

We jumped a bus right out at the front of the airport
A particularly convenient mode of transport
When we arrived at the destination that was intended
We found a cracking wee pub, and a warm welcome was extended

We’d been drinking heavily all day, we’d started really early
Mad Brendan was pretty pished, talk sense?, he could barely
Within a few minutes of getting settled and setting up our camp
He’d fallen asleep, and was snoring like a tramp

We took the opportunity, a few memories to bag
By taking a photo of him draped in a tricolour flag
We gathered ourselves round, and got ourselves into position
The barman was kind enough to take the photo, and started off clicking

He remained sleeping for a while, at times loudly snoozing
We sat back and chilled, and continued our boozing
The few hours we had to spend kicking back and killing time
Bring me nicely on to another part of this rhyme

Said our goodbyes, thanked the staff for their kindness
Headed out to the bus stop, back to the airport to guide us
Made it there in plenty of time for the next leg of our jaunt
Every one of us in green and white, proud of the colours we did flaunt

A trip into the unknown, a brand new destination
From a footballing point of view we hoped it would end in jubilation
The second flight flew in fast, alliteration and a pun
Arrived in the airport, feeling tired but full of fun

Used to be called Ruznye, it was when we touched down on the concourse
Since then they’ve changed the name, to honour the man who sealed the velvet divorce
A revolution that took place without force or brutality
Formed two discrete and individual countries, a widely accepted eventuality
Czechia and Slovakia, two identities that were separated
Without hostility or sadness, in fact it was to be celebrated

We weren’t for trying to find our way, or trying to navigate
Especially when it was so unfamiliar, and dark, and late
The taxis were lined up outside in a neat sequential row
Waiting for passengers just off their flights, primed and ready to go
At the time their currency was kroner, we preferred to call them yahoos
To us it felt like monopoly money, all we needed it for was our booze
The driver took us to our digs, it felt like a short journey
Paid the man for his time before he drove away

Two rooms between the four of us, that would definitely do
Just had to decide who would be sharing with who
There was little chance we would get much sleep so it probably didn’t matter
You could guarantee we would wake up each day hungover and pretty shattered

It had been an excessively long and tiring day, we were all thoroughly exhausted
If we were going to hit the city fresh, the sensible decision would be to go to bed
On our way into the hotel we noticed a wee shop just down the road
Although it was late it still looked open, the lights still brightly glowed
A wee swally to send us off to sleep would be just what the doctor prescribed
You didn’t have to ask any of us a second time, we didn’t need to be bribed

Wandered down as a group, uniformly and together
When we seen the prices of the booze, you could have knocked us over with a feather
It worked out about two bob for a beer, for top quality Czech pilsner
I’ll have some Staropramen, absolutely, Yes please sir!
Purchased enough to see us through for the rest of the night
We’d be down in the morning for more, early and bright

At the time of the trip, I was distant and distracted
Maintaining contact with a girl to whom I was attracted
Who could have known at the time that two decades in the future
We’d have been together for twenty years, with me still madly in love with her
She was much younger than me, some would have argued she was jailbait
I could have left it until she was older, been patient and wait
But she knew what she wanted and swooped in like an eagle
At first some of my friends gave her the appropriate nickname of barely legal

On our first proper day, some exploring was on the cards
Down to Wenceslas Square, it wasn’t very far
Although its called a square, its actually a street
And a beautiful one at that, we were in for an aesthetic treat
There’s something very surreal about it, feels like East meeting West
Of each cultural paradigm it seems to capture the best
Elements of grandeur and antiquity as if behind the iron curtain
Elements of modernity and consumerism, a Capitalist version

We’d barely made it a few hundred metres down the famous strip
Before we were accosted and talked into going to the pub
A chance to have a pint and of some whisky a nip
Who knows we might even grab some grub

There are Irish bars everywhere in the world, no matter where you go
The one just round the corner was Rocky O’Reillys we were reliably told
‘I’ll have four Magners’ I asked for the first round
It wasn’t long before we heard a familiar cacophony of sound
‘Hail Hail the Celts are here’
Surrounded by our comrades, we joined in with the cheer
We’d found a place that for the duration we could happily call home
Somewhere to come back to after a wander and a roam

Once we’d had a few swallies, and made ourselves feel jolly
But not quite enough to send us off our trolley
We wandered out into the city for some culture to absorb
Thankfully not having drunk enough for our perception to distort

Down towards the Charles Bridge, and the astronomical clock
Perhaps even a wee visit to Kafkas house, so we could take stock
Blown away and in awe of the magnificence of this homage to the Christian religion
Giving you the right of passage across the marvellous Vlatka river, a celestial vision

Headed back up to the hotel after a day that was cracking
Of wonderful sights to see it certainly wasn’t lacking
Made a stop into the supermarket to reinforce the supplies
With the rate we were drinking it was a decision that was wise

Once back at the hotel went for a lie down
To refresh and revitalise before we hit the town
On these trips away a siesta during the day is always in order
The daytime drinking always on the cards when we leave our borders

The night before the game we took it comparatively easy
With a big day ahead for which we wanted to be bright and breezy
Went back out to Rocky O’Reillys now that it was familiar territory
Now that it had endeared itself with sing songs of sufficient meritory

It turned out to be very convenient that we found a base so local
Only a short walk up the road, a grounding point so focal
The plan was to stay out for a few hours and get an early night
That was never going to happen, we felt too jovial and bright

Walked up the road together, full of merriment and feeling jolly
Full of carry on, and laughter, a night bursting with good natured folly
Sat up for another few drinks, this would help us fall into a deep slumber
We’d already had plenty by that point, not as if were encumbered

Slept soundly all night, completely undisturbed
When the alarm went off at the crack of dawn I genuinely felt perturbed
Jumped out of bed as quick as flash, it’s the only way to go
Absolutely buzzing for the game, and dying to get into my flow

We pulled ourselves together and assembled like a group of avengers
All present and correct, and ready for another big adventure
Every one of us wore the colours, decked out in green and white
Ready, willing and able, to them we’d take the fight

A misty march morning, the air was filled with dense white fog
We made a trip into the offies, where we first met Provo dog
Protecting the realm as if it were his own
In the Celtic colours our new friend was ceremoniously adorned

Stocked up on the essentials before heading on our way
It was sure to be another phenomenally fantastic trip away
Walked down the wonderful esplanade compromising the square of Wenceslas
A good king associated with many Christmas pasts
Came down on boxing day to give food and firewood to the poor
Wanted to stop the suffering they were having to endure

Reached the famous Central station, architecturally magnificent
Of our own back home in Glasgow, it was acutely reminiscent
We’d arrived there in plenty of time for our departure
Chilled out at a café to enjoy a beer and some laughter

A fairly big contingent had based themselves in the capital
Wanting to take advantage of the big city lights
With their plans of partying it was much more compatible
Some of the sights in Teplice would have given them a fright
Reminiscent of the town in the macabre movie hostel
There was nothing about the place suggesting the residents were Pentecostal

The train arrived as expected, prompt and on time
Waited our turn to board patiently in our place in line
A fairly short journey lay ahead, little more than an hour
Enough time to get our booze on and dispel any notions of being sober

We grabbed ourselves a carriage, wanted to travel in style
Thought we might as well take advantage of the facilities for a short while
Once we were settled our peace and quiet was interrupted
A sinister looked guy enter the fray, were we about to be corrupted

He came across polite and pleasant, on the face of it everything seemed fine
Even went as far as offering us some of his Blackberry wine
There was something about him that didn’t sit with me quite right
Visions of waking up handcuffed to a pipe later on that night
Forever gratitudinous to have escaped without kidnap
A blip on the road fortunately without serious mishap

The hordes descended at the station, chaotically confused and disordered
On the fringes of complete inebriation a good chunk of them bordered
The place was like a ghost town, far from a centre of commerce
Through the middle of the place we bounced, and skipped, and traversed

Stumbled on an establishment that instantly grabbed our interest
A military shop with plenty of clothing to make us look our best
Within minutes they had sold every last balaclava
The place was brimming with nutjobs, and turning into a palaver
Passing around munitions from the second world war
Shells, and guns, and knives and whatever was in the store
Left the shop looking like maniacs in our military garb
Every one of our faces was hidden, we were living it large

Next stop on our radar would quite obviously be a pub
For alcohol of course, we weren’t bothered about grub 
There were very few pubs, we’d were limited in our choices
Stopped at the first one we came across when we heard the roaring voices

The place was raucous, discordant and cacophonous with noise
The inimitable sound of the famous travelling bhoys
Got a round in to make us feel welcome and settled
Made sure we were nice and comfortable, and not feeling dismettled

Looked round to my left, seemed we had a celebrity in our midst
Just like the rest of us he was looking pretty pissed
Could have sworn it was the wordly infamous Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin
In the words of the French, he was Joseph le Malin
It surely couldn’t have been him, he’d been dead for many years
Perhaps the likeness wasn’t as strong as I thought, couldn’t see very clear

The time spent in the pub would stick in the memory long
Another joyous opportunity to get involved in a sign song
The club we love so much, bringing contentment to our lives
No better feeling than the camaraderie with our tribe

The moment had arrived to make our way along to Na Stinadlach
Fortunately our tickets were at the front and not the back
We were in pole position to get a good view of the game
After an emphatic victory at Parkhead all we asked was more of the same

An emphatic advert for a familiar business sat right behind the goal
A limousine for the Darling Club, a strip club of which we’d been told
It was situated very conveniently just along from Rocky O’Reillys
We planned a visit later in the week, where we’d be discreet and enter shyly

Kick off time grew nearer, we were getting more and more excited
A spanner was thrown in the works as they were unable to keep the lights on
An impromptu power cut meant there would be an unavoidable delay
All we could do was hope they sorted it, and we didn’t have to settle it another day

The good news filtered through, both sets of fans roared in unison
It would be the last time they agreed that night, the battle was now on
There was a very special guest in the crowd supporting us that night
We called him a gift from god, a truly halcyonic sight
Lubo, Lubo, Lubo – an all too familiar song
One of the best signings in our history, anyone who says different is wrong

The game itself turned out to be a bit of a disappointment
On of our worst European performances in a while, caused us to feel a slight resentment
They kept the tie alive, stealing a lead thirty five minutes in
But they never managed to extend their lead, which meant we could bear it and we could grin
Although we suffered a marginal defeat on the night
They’d barely done enough to give us a proper fright
We could look forward to another extension of our current Euro run
Another opportunity would exist for us to go away and have some fun
We still had a squad that the previous year had taken us all the way to Seville
Could we do it again? could we make it to Gothenburg? Could we replicate the thrill?

Although we experienced a loss, the dent to our mood was very slight
We could celebrate and party long into the night
The fans filtered out the stadium, in a collectively bhoyant mood
Back towards the train station, perhaps we’d even be lucky to grab some food

At least we had our priorities right, a bevvy was top of our radar
A bottle of their equivalent of Buckfast, we managed to procure
If my foggy memory serves me correctly, we planked it before the game
A tactic for many years we deployed at Parkhead, it always worked the same

As always I was adorned in the colours of Palestine
A lapel ribbon, and cloak like flag as I grasped my bottle of wine
Sill wearing my balaclava, and remaining largely anonymous
The colours of those under occupation with me had become synonymous

We arrived safely back at our base in Prague, the festivities began in earnest
An all night party did commence, the booze flowed and it did flourish
The signing and the dancing and the general jubilation
We’d come through another round successfully, with trials and tribulations

The following day we were fragile, headaches were prevalent all round
A hair of the dog would soon fix that, we’d momentarily be sound
We’d burned the candle at both ends, not that was unexpected
To be fair, everyone of us had lasted pretty well, a feat that was impressive

Collectively agreed that night to take it that bit easier, and stay handy
A few beers in Rockys, then down to the Darling club for a display of some delectable eye candy
Up the road at a decent time, for a few bevvies and well deserved rest
As far as Euro trips go, it was definitely up there with the best

We were in the draw for the last sixteen
We could continue to hope, and to aspire, and to dream
Sitting in the airport on the way home
Wondering about our next opportunity to roam

Looked up on the screen with shock on our faces
The mighty Barcelona, a tie for the ages
The adrenaline flowed, an absolute cracker of a draw
But as PJ would say – Can I hear it aye? Can I party naw!!!!!!

The Beating of Barcelona

For continuity sake this story begins in the airport in Prague
We’d done the job, secured our place, it was safely in the bag
While I was frolicking around on Jimbo and the Jet Set
The draw was being decided, an anxious wait and fret

I left the amusements, made my way to the bar
About a hundred feet away, it wasn’t very far
We sat patiently to see which opponents would be thrown up
As the next hurdle on the way to the final of the cup

When we saw who we’d drawn we collectively gasped
Surely favourites for the tournament, a chance they’d likely grasp
Playing in Europe is all about facing up to the best
We couldn’t have asked for a more monumental test

We were straight on our phones to start pricing a trip
Couldn’t believe what was going on in front of our eyes
They were rising exponentially, they definitely wouldn’t dip
The travel operators are bastards, we shouldn’t have been surprised

The cost initially sat at around the two hundred quid mark
Up as high as five hundred with barely time for a match to spark
We would have to come up with some sort of alternative means
If we wanted to go to the Nou Camp, if we wanted to fulfil my dreams

The way we were drawn, the first leg would be at Parkhead
Might turn out to be in our favour and stand us in good stead
Some argue your better home second in case you need to turn it around
Others state a case for defending a lead at the away ground

Unfortunately for me, attendance at the home leg was not to be
I was scheduled on the night shift, and simply wouldn’t be free
All was not lost, I initiated a negotiation with my boss
Allowing me to start my shift later, after some beers and some shots

A pub located just along from my work, known as the Woodend
Due to multiple visits at lunchtime, I’d become a local legend
Set up camp twenty minutes before the start
Felt nervous and excited, a ridiculously fast beating heart

The odds were against us, knew we were in for a ride
We hoped and we prayed the football gods would be on our side
Playing at cauldron Parkhead meant we were in with a chance
Hoped we could take a lead to the Nou Camp, triumph then advance

The atmosphere in the pub was a bit of a mixed bag
A combination of nervous tims, and huns eager to slag
They assumed it would be a night where they got to celebrate
One where they be able to noise us up and berate

Made sure my view of the game was unrestricted and clear
Up to the bar for a whisky and to wash it down a pint of beer
Earlier that day there we’d received horrific news from Spain
Almost two hundred dead, coordinated bombs across four trains
A terrorist attack, indiscriminate and barbaric
A city engulfed in grief, a senseless massacre so tragic

Before the game could kick off there was to be a minutes silence
In honour of those who lost their lives to this grotesque act of violence
Sadly some of the Barca fans saw it as an opportunity to disrespect their rivals
A few started booing, and the noise began to spiral

The Celtic fans observed it impeccably and done themselves proud
Once it was done, the rambunctious noise started coming from the crowd
We believed we could do it, somehow instinctively knew
The world famous Glasgow Celtic, famous through and through

Although we had every reason to be wary of our opponents and their reputation
We’d built a reputation of our own that contained many moments of jubilation
Unbeaten at home for seventy four games when they turned up that night
Determined to put them to the sword, and not just give them a fright

Five minutes on the clock, showed their dangerous side
Ronaldinho cleverly found Saviola, but he somehow fired it wide
We rode the early storm, and started to find a steady footing
Pearson lashed it from twenty five yards into the side netting

They came close again, the boy Gaucho demonstrating wizardry and trickery
In conjunction with Xavi, they were proving to be very slippery
Fed it through to Saviola, their talisman was well placed
Once again he squandered the chance, we were still very much in the race

The game was really hotting up, moving swiftly from end to end
Big Bad Bobo pushed forward, found himself in no mans land
Brushed Reizeger aside when he put him under pressure
Managed to fire a shot off, a youthful Valdes saved it at his leisure

Next up it was Saviolas turn to act as the provider
Fed it through to their inimitable samba superstar
With only Douglas to beat he skewed it wider
For someone of his standard it was pretty bizarre

Just before the interval we had our best chance of the half
Thommo struck it with his unfavoured right, somehow Valdes palmed
Over the course of the first forty five we’d held out pretty well
Showed plenty to be encouraged by, the ref rung the half time bell

The game was suddenly turned on its head without a ball being kicked
A double sending off, but in the tunnel not on the pitch
A clash between Motta and Douglas, handbags at twenty paces
The ref took no time to give them both their places
The red card came out, they’d be having an early bath
Both teams would take to the pitch with ten men for the start of the second half

The game started very much in the same vein before the pause
Ronaldinho was the main protagonist and champion for their cause
A forty yard pass to Saviola who took it right to the wire
It was clear from the opening moments Marshall was in for a baptism of fire

The game was getting pretty heated and tempers were starting to fray
A moment of petulant stupidity swung the pendulum in our favour
Saviola directed a childish kick at Thommo, and would no longer play
The reduction in their numbers gave us the incentive to be braver

Started to press aggressively, as was the norm at Parkhead
Looking for the opener to nudge us in front and get us ahead
Stilian the man forged his way down the right wing
Sent a cross ball to Henke who eluded Puyol on the spin

Sent a perfectly weighted header into Thommos path
In to the back of the net it was spectacularly lashed
Took the form of a spectacular bicycle kick
Poor Valdes, the ball out of the back of the net he had to pick
It was no longer a case of just giving them a fright
We had the lead, a numerical advantage, and Paradise had been set alight

An acrobatic goal from Thommo, the famous giant slayer
Gave us hope in our hearts, and faith in our players
Off to the Nou Camp for the very first time
Though a second trip will be mentioned in the course of this rhyme

Young David Marshall in goals, ‘thou shall not pass’
A career defining performance right up to the last
The famous Barcelona, taught a memorable lesson
Beaten by a better team, they had to make the confession

A gargantuan result we’d secured at Parkhead
Despite the draw for many rendering our chances dead
A lead to hold onto, we were in with a chance
Though still had much work to do to successfully advance

The hoops army would descend on the capital of Catalan
Could we do it? could we put them out? of course we fucking can!
They’d be full of hubris, and have very different ideas
Looking forward to taking their revenge, sending us home drenched in tears

Despite the ridiculous prices being quoted for a trip to Spain
We managed to secure a deal that overcame the feeling of disdain
A cheeky wee daytrip leaving from the Ayrshire coast via Prestwick
Somehow all the circumstances fell in place and naturally clicked

On the day of the game the most devout Celtic fan of them all
The legend that is my Uncle Tony, he answered our call
Needed transport to Prestwick to make sure we caught our flight
Couldn’t think of a better person who would make sure he kept us right

With a dedicated chauffeur, we could start our boozing in the car
It wouldn’t take us long to get there, it wasn’t very far
A foggy morning, the dew descended on the Fenwick Moors
The start of another one of our magical mystery football tours

Arrived on Spanish soil, safely on the other side
Time to get ourselves involved and buckle up for the ride
Headed down to Las Ramblas for to see what was going down
We were greeted by huge numbers and the inimitable sound
Of the famous Glasgow Celtic and our travelling hordes
Singing for their supper and hopefully a favourable score

The most famous part of Barca was now a veritable sea of green and white
Tricolours decked the decorative paving, out beyond the line of sight
The place was crowded, and mobbed and absolutely bustling
Unfortunately the chancers were out in force hustling
Beggars harassing you for money, trying to tug at your heart strings
Parading their babies in front of you, while they tried to steal your bling

The pickpockets were rife, always seeking an opportunity
You had to watch them like hawks, regarding this there was no ambiguity
They were so persistent the even followed us in to McDees
Hoping to seize upon a chance to act like a total sleaze
Thankfully we made it through the day without being robbed
Had they stolen all our money there is no doubt we would have sobbed

We’d had a munch to line our stomach, to allow us to carry on drinking
It was the behaviour of experienced boozers, it was truly forward thinking
Needed some cargo to allow us to continue swallying, throughout the rest of the day
Grabbed ourselves a bottle of the equivalent of Spanish Buckie, known locally as Duploye

Although it looked exactly the same with the green bottle and yellow label
It brought a significantly more potent mixture to our table
Twenty seven percent of alcohol by measure of the proof
We’d have to be careful when we drank it, or end up hitting off the roof

We passed it between us, necked it swig by swig
Before making our way down to the main square
In both our steps there a bounce and a spring
The place was bouncing when we arrived there
The travelling faithful were doing their thing
Why not, they were deserved winners of awards for playing fair

The square was absolutely rocking with a thunderous sound
So loud and so powerful it was shaking the ground
A feeling of hopeful optimism permeated its way through the throngs
Who vocalised this faith through their unifying songs

We befriended a couple from the North of the African continent
Either Algerian or Moroccan, my memory is not competent
They never spoke English, and we never spoke Arabic
An inability to communicate would have turned out to be tragic
We overcame our difficulties by speaking in a common tongue
Both spoke enough French to use it, that would be the one

The place was rocking and rolling with the sound of the anthem ‘Hail, Hail’
The absence of a toilet forced some fans to risk the jail
A collective decision was taken to turn the corner into a makeshift lavvy
Understandably, this was seen as disrespectful by the locals who quickly became angry

They decided to take action, felt it was their right to protest
Armed themselves up with water, determined to let their annoyance manifest
A game of cat and mouse developed, tactical nuance became critical
Before diving in to do the bog they demonstrated minds that were analytical

Every time someone made it back dry, you could hear the roars and cheers
Made it worth for them as they dived in and out, and navigated their fear
By the same token, we felt it hard not to celebrate with the residents
When they took out one of their targets with their friendly brand of aggressiveness

We’d had a brilliant day surrounded by our brethren and comrades
The time had come to head to the ground, to battle for our place
A visit to a mecca of the football world for us shortly beckoned
We had a big chance of pulling of a shock we definitely reckoned

Took a moment to soak in the magnificence of the ground
To absorb the magnanimous, tumultuous, fear invoking sound
The home fans by this point had probably written us off
No match for us, they were confident, you could almost sense them scoff

When we sat at our seat we found we were surrounded by international commentators
Although we couldn’t understand their language they were most likely also berators
The personnel available to the teams had been influenced by the first game
Rab Douglas, Thiago Motta and Saviola had all taken the walk of shame

We would be rolling the dice with the youngster Marshall to take his place between the posts
Finding suitable replacements amongst the depth of their squad not difficult for the hosts
Gerard and Sergio good enough to grace any team in the European scene
Drafted in from the bench to attempt to destroy our dream
We also had to find a suitable deputy for Big Bad Bobo
John Kennedy was drafted in to put his skills on show

From the very first minute, they were clear in their intent
Determined to overwhelm us, and make sure our energy was quickly spent
An inch perfect ball from Ronaldinho sent Gerard on the run
Found himself with a great chance as he faced Marshall one on one
A decisive lunge from the young keeper denied him a certain score
The Barcelona faithful let out a disappointed roar

A lad thrown into the lions den, he was still in his late teens
Tasked with keeping our hopes alive, and protecting our Euro dreams
He was playing with the confidence of a keeper twice his age
His refusal to let them beat him filled their bitter hearts with rage

Gerard had a second bite of the cherry, Gaucho once again with the assist
An intelligent stop kept out the header, leaving them feeling pissed
They poured forward in numbers, thought it would only be a matter of time
Hadn’t banked on such a solid performance you could only describe as sublime

Luis Enrique was next to try his hand, his improvised shot was heading for the net
With Marshall commanding the goal we had no reason to fret
Swiped the ball away to take it off in a different direction
His concentration was phenomenal, as was his unrelenting attention

Our chances received a boost by the end of Puyols participation
The exit of their captain through injury filled them with damnation
At half time we fell to our knees and offered prayers up to the lord
At times we clung on desperately as we were put firmly to the sword
Our defence remained stoic and our confidence grew with every interception
Big Varga and John Kennedy were standing firm, absolutely no exception

They continued to attack, wave after wave after wave
Big Marshall continued to excel with save after save after save
We managed to hold on for one of our most famous ever victories
Slayed the giants of Barcelona, a great moment in our history
The game was described by a journalist as one of the greatest ever nil nil draws
Left those watching it gasping frantically, hearts racing and in awe

The standouts of the night were the youngsters who’d been drafted in
Big Marshall and John Kennedy played such a massive part in the win
They’d played with skill and courage and huge determination
Leaving us floating on a cloud of ecstatic jubilation

A quarter final was our reward, for the second year in a row
Could we march all the way to another final? we’d certainly give it a go
If we kept on playing the way we had, who knew what would be our fate
We’d fight and dig in, and play for the jersey, and punch above our weight
We were immensely proud of the team that night, and everything they had achieved
They’d kept our Euro dreams alive and gave us every reason to believe

There was absolutely no doubt we would enjoy the journey home
We’d have a drink and celebrate, and plan where next to roam

Villareal – The Last Eight

The business end of the tournament lay in wait once again
Unsurprisingly it would involve yet another trip to Spain
Vigo, Seville and Barcelona in recent times
Villareal will be the subject of this story and this rhyme

We were the first team out the draw, and would start off at Parkhead
Hoping to give ourselves lead and basis from which we could defend
A loud and rowdy chorus belted out from the jam packed stands
This land is yours and mine from the highlands to the islands

On paper, we should have been very much in the mix
Having already taken Barca out with our varied bag of tricks
This team though were not to be underestimated
Their route to the quarters had shown they should be highly rated
Despatched of two of Turkeys biggest clubs Trabzonspor and Galatasaray
In between they’d beaten Torpedo Moscow, left them high and dry
They overpowered Roma, a team of notable quality and skill
As usual at El Madrigal they’d went in for the kill

Made us stand up and take notice very early in the game
Less than ten minutes on the clock, our defence was left sitting lame
A speculative cross was thrown into the penalty box
It grazed Josicos head and left Marshall flummoxed
Somehow drifted into the corner of the net
The loss of an early away goal meant the quarters was no longer a good bet

We picked ourselves up and dusted ourselves down
Plenty of time to get back on track to make it to the next round
Started to come more into the game, with zippy fluent passing
More and more of the ball possession we began amassing
Carved out a great chance to pull ourselves on par
Big Sooty found Petrovs head, but he guided it just over the cross bar

Another opportunity fell to our midfield dynamo
Struck a fierce volley that was heading for the goal
Just as the Parkhead crown were about to break into mania
The ball was tipped onto the post by Big Pepe Reina
Just before the half ended Big Sooty let off a shot
The keeper saved it comfortably, avoiding a twist to the plot

The second half kicked off, hoped the team talk would have done its job
Knew we were going to be in for a tough old footballing slog
The king of kings looked to have pulled us back into the contest
He charged the keepers clearance into the net but was instantly met with protest
The ref chopped it off, the crowd loudly jeered
Fortunately it wouldn’t be long before they once again cheered

Agathe picked out Henke who clinically nodded it into the net
A light appeared at the end of the tunnel, we weren’t out of it yet
We still had time to build a lead to take with us over to Spain
Pearson cut it back to Larsson lurking on the penalty spot, but his shot was in vain
Agathe was next to have a crack, with a vicious low strike
Reina pushed it round the post, our collective heart rate spiked
The game went into injury time, we ploughed forward looking for a last chance
Suttons header was saved by Reina, Agathes header proved only a glance
The final whistle went, there was nothing more we could do
We’d have to get a result at the cauldron of El Madrigal if we were going to make it through

Another jaunt abroad for myself and Paul, another throw of the dice
We’d came home with a result from Barca, could lightning really strike twice?
The town itself was low profile, didn’t even have its own airport
Though the clubs fans were passionate about their team and about their sport

We flew into Valencia, who still happened to be in the cup
If we made it through we’d probably draw them, that would be just our luck
Villareal itself was more famous for its ceramics than its football
Their team were to be respected, a style of football that would enthral
They had some top players who were more than capable of lighting a game up
Riquelme and Sonny Anderson, they hoped would lead them to the cup

Their record at home was incredible, every game they’d kept a clean sheet
At the very highest levels of European football, most definitely a feat
El Madrigal had become known Europe wide as a frightening cauldron
Every team that came here saw their chances quickly smouldering

We had to forget about what had went before, and focus on our own game
A victory against them at El Madrigal would act to further enhance our fame
As the team that no matter who they face always have a chance
To seize an unlikely victory sending our fans into song and dance
Like a middle versus a heavyweight, they might be bigger and stronger
But we’d play to our strengths to guarantee our run lasted longer

Their fans done them proud, a rapturous welcome with open arms
Put on a big Paella party, really turned on the friendly charms
We had a day to remember surrounded by old comrades and new found friends
Hoped we would manage to nick a favourable result, didn’t want the dream to end
To this day they still have a Villareal supporters club dedicated to the hoops
A welcome multicultural addition to our band of loyal troops

Marched up to the ground full of hope and optimistic spirit
Confident that despite the gravity of the challenge we could still somehow win it
Despite our lower numbers only occupying a small pocket of the ground
We still rocked the place with our thunderous sound
Already up against it with the loss of an away goal
Our team was decimated by injuries and suspensions, which left a gaping hole
Big Sutton failed a fitness test, Tommo was suspended
We’d need to play out of our skins our chances would be upended

The game kicked off amongst a crescendo of noise
Although the home fans were louder, we still shouted for the bhoys
Our task in the opening minutes couldn’t have been any more
Avoid conceding an early goal, should mean dissipation of the fear

The match was barely five minutes in, they’d started offensive and bold
Our naivety and poor concentration meant they caught us completely cold
Belleti swung the ball in, Sonny Anderson was quick to react
Big Balde moved too slowly to stop him in is tracks
He’d been potent and prolific through all the other rounds
The best candidate for tournament top scorer had surely been found

Next up for a crack was Riquelme, swept it across the front
We were very fortunate no one was there to give it a nudge or a dunt
Things began to settle down, we forced our way back into proceedings
Half an hour gone, into the box Jackie Mac went speeding
The defender challenged sternly, looked enough for a penalty
When it was declined we began to accept perhaps things wouldn’t go our way

Came out for the second half, still glad to be in with a shout
Needed to try and grab an early goal and give our challenge some real clout
Jackie Mac once again the provider, gave Pearson a great chance to equalise
His powerful header went over the bar, just slightly too much of a rise
Henke headed across the face of goal, big Joos was just out of reach
Another chance had gone abegging where their defence we should have breached

We should have taken our chances, we risked being punished
Another goal from them and the tie was finished
Anderson looked as if he was poised to hit the killer strike
Big Balde produced a saving tackle to keep on our light
Inevitably, after seventy minutes had passed, we were undone
Roger blasted it past Big Marshall to signify the end of our run

The crowd celebrated wildly, their teams march would continue
The semi finals beckoned, they were delighted to have made it through
An explosive tie against Valencia awaited, a derby for the age
A bigger incentive than normal for the rivals to upstage
Our run came to an end, the better team won
Irrespective of this, we had a run filled with fun

Munich and the Olympic stadium had been an absolute blast
Amsterdam and Brussels had been jam packed with laughs
Lyon was a cracking trip, though with heartbreak at the end
Always easier to deal with when surrounded by friends

Prague and Teplice was an absolute riot
Definitely the diametric opposite of quiet
To see us put out Barca, a moment we’ll never forget
Villareal proved a step too far, just too big of a test
We’d be back the following season, ready to take on the elite
Anyone we face at Parkhead, we’re always capable of inflicting defeat

AC Milan – Robbed by The Rossoneri

Another season arrived, a European campaign on the horizon
It had came around pretty quickly, just as rapidly as a kaizen
We waited for the draw, we were excited and eager
We were handed a group that for many brought out terror and fear
Barca, AC Milan, and Shaktar Donetsk
On paper it was certainly a formidable test 

Barcelona especially, they’d be out for revenge
They’d be pumped up, and fired up, all out to avenge
After our famous victory where we’d exceeded all expectations
We’re we’d overcame the best, and showered pride upon our nation

By now they’d learned their lesson, wouldn’t underestimate us this time
They’d also acquired a striker we all knew was quite simply sublime
It was only fitting the king of kings would leave us for club so prestigious
After the experience he’d given us, which can only be described as religious

We were hopeful of getting the group stage off to a good start
They had a team filled with superstars, but we were full of determination and heart
Barca had strengthened their side since we last came head to head
Would be confident of putting any challenge we posed very quickly to bed

You’ll never walk alone reverberated around the stadium once more
Our heroes in green and white gave us hope and optimism galore
Right from the kick off we were harried and harassed
Struggled to make progress up the field, struggled to get past

They had onboarded some superstar talent since last time to guarantee victory
That wee diving bastard Deco, the imperious Eto’o, and the Frenchman Ludovic Guily
Ronaldinho was determined for payback, after coming up empty last time
Sent a fierce flashing shot just wide deploying skill that was truly sublime

Big David Marshall picked up where he left off, displaying goalkeeping heroics
He’d established himself as our number one, with his own brand of diving gymnastics
Gio was next up to put him to the test, a man who’d traded up his club
Moved on to Arsenal then Barca after giving the manky mob the snub

Who’d have known all these years later he’d be taking up a managerial post
The return of one of their legends, a man they loved the most
His second term at the club would prove less successful than his last
He never lasted long before the sacked him, and gave him the proverbial blast

His struck it low hoping to give his team an early lead
The boy wonder done a phenomenal job by saving the ball with his feet
The way they were playing, it would be difficult to hang on, the pressure was no stop
A loose pass from Agathe set up a swift counter attack, into the net Decos angled strike dropped

The crowd went momentarily silent, the disappointment could be felt throughout the ground
Within moments the singing had once again started, the famous Paradise sound
We were a goal down, and it was no doubt we had an uphill battle
But with the twelfth man of the crowd behind us we were determined to show our mettle
Thankfully for us, Marshall continued with his great form and display
Ensuring although they were ahead of us, they couldn’t run away

He pushed Gauchos shot intelligently to the side
Before Xavi stepped up hoping to join the ride
He smashed the ball into the side netting
They were showing their class and leaving us sweating

Thommo the hunslayer used his magic wand and found Varga with a free kick
He tried his best to get his header on target, but he couldn’t make it stick
Guily became more involved in the game, hoping to establish himself with their fans
Found room behind the defence, only to be denied by Marshalls hands

A few moments later, he got the better of our young starlet
Rounded him brilliantly, what a chance he had carved out
Out of nowhere Big Bad Bobo appeared to save the day
A wonderful sliding challenge took the ball out of harms way

Right on half time Thommo, of the goal he had half a sight
From twenty yards out he gave it a belter of a raking swipe
Victor Valdes, who until then hadn’t been tested
Made a comfortable save and ensured he wasn’t bested

The half time whistle went, for us at a very opportune time
We needed to stabilise and rebuild, and begin to hold our line
The half time team talk so often reenergises a team
We certainly needed it of we were going to relive the dream

We came out for the second half having made a change in personnel
Big Sooty made an appearance, and we hoped he would give them hell
Replaced Juninho, the diminutive Brazilian
We’d signed him from Middlesborough, he cost us a few million
As much as he was skilful, and to watch a lot of fun
Their defence had him under control, and it made more sense to go route one

We started the second half full of positivity and spright
It didn’t take long for our luck to turn to shite
Conceded a penalty before we had a change to get going
The pattern of the first half meant we felt a sense of foreboding

Some might have thought the addition of a second goal was a must
Not all of us though – in Big Marshall we trust
Ronaldinho stepped up hoping to leave us deflated
The big man saved wonderfully as we gleefully celebrated

They started coming at us again, Marshall had to act quickly
To save Marquez header, before Xavi followed up swiftly
Just before the hour mark, the game was turned on its head
A masterful substitution, Big Sutton put the ball in the net
A flashing cross came across from the right flank
With his outstretched leg, he gave it a spank

Barca made a genius substitution, threw a famous face into the ring
A man who spent seven years at Parkhead, the one and only king of kings
Ronaldinho made way for a many so dearly loved by the home crowd
Despite playing for the opposition he was greeted very loud
A man who would always command a place in our history
Over two hundred goals during his tenure, certainly no mystery

Stilian the man attempted to put us in the lead
Fired a dipping left footer that approached the goal with great speed
Valdes tipped over, much to our dismay
We still had high hopes it might turn out to be our day

As we approached the later stages, it was us in the ascendency
Partial to a wee late goal, we’ve always had a tendency
With just over ten minutes remaining, disaster struck
A moment of misfortune, of really bad luck

Giuly hit a shot that shouldn’t have troubled the keeper
Took a wicked deflection off a defender who was acting as a sweeper
Perhaps the only blemish in an almost perfect game
The ball evaded Marshalls grasp, caught off guard and lame

The sight of the net bulging was a demoralising hammer blow
After being dominated in the first half we’d arrived at the show
When they scored the goal it arguably came against the run of play
Perhaps fate was against us and it just wasn’t going to be our day

Our worst fears with regards to that were soon to be confirmed
They took complete control of the match, the tables completely turned
To add insult to injury, Larsson scored a goal in his inimitable style
A clinical finish full of flare, a chance created through his guile

Thommo attempted to head the ball back to safety
His judgement was poor and his decision was hasty
The wee man nicked in and took the ball beyond Marshall with his chest
The rest as they say is history, in an empty net the ball would rest

His celebration was muted, something I think we all came to expect
Any showboating could be construed as a wee bit lacking in respect
Fortress Parkhead up until then in the Champions League had been impenetrable
Our unbeaten run had ended, a record that had been venerable

Next up the Rossoneri would provide just as stern a test
We’d need to be playing out of our skins, and at our very best
For this one, I’d once again be travelling on my own
I’d meet up with friends once I arrived at the unofficial away fans zone

Paul and Lindsay had arrived there a day or two before me
Informed me there was to be a booze ban across the famous city
Asked me to bring extra swally, to add to their supply
I willingly offered to do so, who am I to question why?

Some duty free left over from our recent trip to Spain
A full litre of Baileys for me to take on the plane
As I was anticipating a situation not unlike prohibition
Proactively mitigating against problems by using my volition
To add to that, decided to take some vodka as my core drink
Put it in plastic bottles with a mixer so my rucksack didn’t clink

If I’m entirely honest the details of my journey are a bit of a blur
Trying to remember specifics, twenty years ago it occurred
Made my way from the airport to the centre via a pre arranged transfer
Headed straight for the central station, no need to pay a fare
When I arrived the place was bouncing there was a party going on
Luckily it never took long for me to find them in amongst the throngs

We spent the day partying as only the travelling Celtic faithful do
Singing our favourite songs, because we’re faithful through and through
I have a fleeting memory of walking through the station singing at the top of my voice
‘They gave us James McGrory and Paul McStay…’ with the rest of the madcap Bhoys

The concern over booze being on sale turned out to be false conjecture
I’d been given misinformation in good faith, no point in giving a lecture
The worst consequence of this was that they already had their own booze
I’d just need to drink more than I originally planned, there was really nothing to lose

Like many trips abroad, I barely took in any of the tourist attractions
The day trip whilst saving some cash, creates these limitations
As kick off time grew closer, we had a decision to make
How would we get ourselves to the San Siro without being late
Agreed the safest option would be a taxi, would take us straight up to the ground
Meant we would have to do any searching, there’d be nothing to be found

Didn’t want any of the booze to go to waste
Starting slurping back the Baileys with a reckless degree of haste
The vodka I’d drank during the day already had me buzzed
Never stopped me taking on a challenge which would leave my brain completely fuzzed

There were plenty of taxis lined up outside the station
We made our way up to the front without procrastination
The San Siro beckoned, the excitement began to take hold
We’d soon be congregated with our people, in the stands amongst our fold

The taxi soon had us whizzing through the streets of a European fashion capital
The streets were line with the Rossoneri faithful, reputationally known as fanatical
We weren’t fazed, we were full of faith, could this finally be the away game?
Where we return victorious, with all three points, celebrating the entire way hame!

We were allocated to different gates, I would have to navigate on my own
I had plenty of experience doing so, I was confident alone
I stepped outside the taxi, suddenly the entire world began to spin
The booze was catching up with me, it would have been handy being close to a bin

Started spewing violently, the Baileys had put me in a ridiculous state
Had to square myself up pronto, didn’t have time to wait
The priority was to find my way to the correct gate to get myself in
Once I’d settled down, grabbed a steward for help, his patience was wearing thin

Never spoke a word of English, didn’t have a clue what I was talking about
There was no point in raising my voice to the level of a shout
Pulled out my ticket, and pointed to the number of my section
Thankfully this proved enough for him to show me in the right direction

My episodic vomit meant meant I’d sobered up a little
Enough to have my wits about me and head to the toilet for a quick piddle
Wanted to get into my seat and get myself comfortably camped out
Start getting into the swing of things, for my team to loudly shout

As a force in Europe, we had been notably weakened and depleted
Our talisman had left us for Barcelona, leaving us feeling empty and cheated
A proper replacement had never really been identified and secured
Henri Camara from Wolves, on loan move they had lured
He had barely been given a chance to prove himself, a bit of an unknown quantity
Could he do us a turn? Would he prolifically score? Would he fit in with our philosophy

The atmosphere inside the ground was intentioned to intimidate and scare
Compared to our home atmosphere it sounded as if there was barely anybody there
As usual every one of our allocated tickets had been sold, our section was completely full
We also had fans dotted all around the stadium in breach of the designated rules

The game kicked off, and straight away they prodded and they pressed
Was immediately clear if we were going to get a result we’d have to be at our very best
The breakthrough wasn’t delayed for long, less than ten minutes had elapsed
Shevchenko latched on to a ball that Kaka had very intelligently passed
He hammered the ball through Marshalls arms, he left him not a chance
Pirouetted away from the goal in celebration, he jubilantly danced

They seemed content to take the foot off the pedal once they’d got themselves ahead
We started to creep back into the game, had to be sensible and keep the head
Big Varga was the first to come close, pouncing to meet a free kick
It was only a couple of feet over the crossbar, and left us feeling sick

Our Cameroonian hopeful, Camara stepped up to the plate
He lashed it well over, after being set up well by big Hartson, his striking mate
They started to realise the danger, and went on the offensive
Marshall done well to stop Shevchenkos shot, not time to reflect and be pensive

Trying their hardest to add to their lead
Attacking us with gusto, and persistence and speed
Kaka had a last crack before the half came to a close
Marshall was able to block it, it was right down his throat

The second half started we were far more composed
The longer the game went on the more our hope rose
Of nicking a result to take home and shout about
Its never an easy one when you return home with nought

Camara managed a shot on target, things were starting to look up
A goal from us would really rattle them, they’d be rattled and shook up
After an hour our hopes took a blow
Thommo would play no further part in our show

Juninho came on, a talented player in his own right
But still not what we tactically needed on the night
He’d was the kind of player at times is a luxury
To take the piss when your winning, to add insult to injury

We had taken the initiative, the momentum was with us
Camara had another shot, simply adding to the buzz
The goalkeeper done well to smother it
But it only acted as a delay, soon our fans were loosing their shit

Petrov swung in a corner, it was begging for a header
Varga outjumped Shevchenko, showed how to be a leader
He scored another vitally important goal for the club
So many important goals – not one to sneer or snub

The fans celebrated widely, time was starting to run out
Only fifteen minutes left to hang on, could we be in with a shout
We’d been in a similar situation in the champions league the year before
Took the lead against the mighty Bayern, a game that promised so much more

We were on the very horizon, of finally taking a point away
It was on the very cusp, it was so close to being our day
Seven matches we played away from Parkhead, we were skelped every one
Now might be the perfect time to put to bed that woeful run

We were holding our breath, praying we could see the game through
Right up until the last minute, then up to our usual style we stuck true
Shevchenko broke clear, played a through ball to Inzaghi
He forced it home in scrappy fashion, sent our hopes flying down the khazi

Almost immediately from restart, the looked to twist the knife
Secured a free kick in a position that could easily cause us strife
Pirlo quickly took advantage, pinged it straight towards the goal
Our defence was looking shaky, full of gaps and full of holes
An unanticipated deflection of the back of Lennons head
Directed the ball into the goal and left our chances dead

The scoreline in no way reflected the course of the game
We’d played out of our skins, and couldn’t shoulder any blame
It had been another opportunity to widen my cultural scope
Even though I returned with no points I still harboured hope

The prospect of a trip to Donetsk never drove any enthusiasm
A trip to the Nou Camp, that would be driven by passion
Surely I couldn’t walk away from that game, in that stadium still undefeated
Knew as a team they’d left it all out there until their energy was depleted

Barcelona – A point to prove

By the time we headed to Barca, of progress there was no chance
We were sitting stuck on three points, we simply wouldn’t advance
In spite of that we were wildly excited about another trip to the Nou Camp
Knowing the result would have no bearing we’d be out of the league of champs

Readied ourselves to travel for a Champions League tie away
It was somewhere I’d already been, when we covered ourselves in glory
The world famous footballing mecca we would once again grace
As far as we were concerned we completely deserved our place

A familiar companion would join me on this journey to Catalan
The man we know as illegal rave, as ever the main man
It actually turned out to be a Lyon reunion of sorts
Mad Duff and Smiddy would be there, a couple of familiar cohorts

As I’d already been, and this was not my debut
We had the added advantage that I would know what to do
Las Ramblas would undoubtedly be a carnival of colour and noise
It would have been completely taken over by the masses of travelling bhoys

We’d once again gone for the day trip, the order of the day
The trips were expensive enough without paying for an overnight stay
We were on the vodka and coke, didn’t want to drink it in wee slugs
So decided we’d be civilised and bought ourselves a couple of wee mugs

Wandered down to the square where we hung about last time
A cacophony of noise, quite simply sublime
The place was absolutely rammed, it was completely packed out
You could barely hear yourself think, to be heard you had to shout

It was a sea of green and white, with a few other flags on display
Palestine and the Basque Country, the traditional Celtic way
Left wing Politics is in our blood, we hunger for justice and freedom
A club set up to alleviate poverty, our existence has a reason

As it turned out, I bumped into a few familiar faces
It always seems to be the way as I travel to different places
One of these meetings was planned in advance
We met Mad Duff and Big Smiddy deliberately and not by chance
It was great to see them both, for me it had been quite a while
Lyon had been some buzz with them, with plenty of laughs and smiles
They had opted for the overnight stay, and booked into their hotel
The prospect of somewhere to base yourself invariably turns out well
I bumped into someone else, this wasn’t the first time
He’s mentioned in my story of Stuttgart in an earlier part of this rhyme

My cousin John, my goddaughters older brother
I’m also the godson of my cousin, and his mother
We’d met outside the pub in Stuttgart, the one where I got the jail
Always a calamity involved with me somewhere, in this respect I never fail

He was waiting to go into a concert of Charlie and the Bhoys
A veritable gathering of hoops fans jigging and dancing to Republican noise
This time he was bouncing around jovially in the packed out main square
A loyal celt through and through, an assessment I’d say is fair
He’s a good bhoy, one I definitely love and respect
His old dear, one of the best people I know, and had the fortune to connect

As we were already out of the running, the game held no tension
We had nothing to lose, and therefore weren’t nervous by extension
In the famous words of Prince we partied like it was nineteen ninety nine
To be fair it was only a few years earlier, it was only just behind

With a couple of hours to go to the game, we headed back to their hotel
Mad Duff was out his box, it really wasn’t hard to tell
He stumbled out without looking on to the road
Very lucky the car missed him, and there wasn’t a more gruesome story to be told
I couldn’t help but laugh as he shouted abuse at the driver
Blaming him for the near miss, when Duff couldn’t have been any more liable

Their hotel couldn’t have been far away, as it never took us long
But still left us enough time to get in a proper sing song
They wanted to get back to have a wash and freshen up
Also had booze back at in the room, would save them going to the pub

Their hotel was a high riser, pointed up towards the sky
Looking up gave me butterflies in my stomach due to my fear of heights, I won’t lie
Their room was pretty high up, I cant remember how many stories
Gave a great opportunity to see the Barcelona skyline, in all its glory
The Sagrada Familia probably the most dominant building of them all
Partly because its stunning, but also because its very tall

There’s the W hotel, which in itself is a sight to see
To me it looks reminiscent of some of the famous buildings in Abu Dhabi
Mount Tibidabo, something you’d not normally see in a city
Adds another dimension as its something very pretty

Mad Joey from Friends mentions it in a well constructed pick up line
If you’re a fan you’ll know what I’m talking about, it’s a moment he really shines
Fifteen hundred feet into the air, something to behold
Perhaps at the end of a rainbow above it, you’ll find a pot of gold

There’s the Torre Agbara, or the Agbar tower
Reminiscent of the Gherkin in London with its neo futuristic power

Although the buildings you could see were a wondrous sight
It would be better getting a view during the day when they were showered with light
The lights on the buildings meant them you could still see
But no lights on the splendour of the mountain unfortunately for me

The city itself, is a testimony to the architectural brilliance of Gaudi
A splendiferous, mind blowing, inspirational pioneering design bounty
Freddy Mercury once referenced it as a beautiful horizon
Having seen it for myself I can testify he wasn’t lying

We stayed in the hotel for a short rest and a beverage
To refresh ourselves, enhance our buzz, and give us some leverage
I’ll be honest I can’t remember how we got to the stadium
It was twenty years ago and some memories have dissipated like the isotopes of radium

I can remember being in the hotel getting ready to go
I was up for it and ready, and going with the flow
The next thing I remember we were settled in the ground
Up with the Gods and absorbing the sound
We were literally at the very highest point we could be
We were so high up it was pretty difficult to see

Situated beside the London Celtic supporters club
They had their banner on display, and had likely just arrived from the pub
When the players came out and assembled themselves in a huddle
Structured, and organised and without getting muddled
They were so far away we barely had visual contact
Yet somehow we could still make out they were tight together and compact

The stadium was rowdy, and noisy, almost everyone giving it a shout
Would we succumb to their greater skill and be soundly found out?
Amongst the cream of the crop, amongst Europes elite
Could we dig in and stifle them, and somehow avoid defeat?

The game kicked off, they started with their usual style
Playing with speed, and accuracy, and tenacity and guile
Pressing, and prodding, and pushing all the way
Determined we wouldn’t get another result, we wouldn’t have our day

At twenty five minutes in, we done well, we dug in
They’d dominated the play, but we’d held out, with all they bring
Eto’o popped up, brought them to life, slammed the ball away
It all of a sudden started to look as if it wouldn’t be our day

He should have grabbed another , less than sixty seconds later
Steered the ball wide,  a skilful invader
Ronaldinho picked out Giuly, fired a shot at our goal
Big Hedman made the block, fulfilling his role

Gaucho was once again the provider of their next chance
Showing skill almost like wizardry, taking the ball for a dance

They took the lead, and looked pretty strong
Before Big John Hartson popped up And proved the doubters wrong
Stilian the man swung in a freekick deliciously from the left flank
Hartson knew right away he owed him a debt of thanks
Varga got the slightest touch straight into big bad johns path
He was free at the back, he would have the last laugh

We were up against the wall for big chunks of the remainder of the game
Had to roll our sleeves up, set our stall out and dig in
We dealt with everything they had, everything we’d been thrown
We were destined to be in that company, that’s what our display had shown

The midfield was starting to swing in our favour
It started to feel more and more like weren’t in any danger
Absorbed every bit of pressure, we were completely unfazed
Even fancied our chances of nicking a wee win if we could have a raid

We held on for a famous result, our first away points in nine attempts
Hopefully a pattern we could maintain, perhaps a turning point we had felt
For the second time in a row I’d left the Nou Camp with a result
Even if we’d had to defend in the midst of tumult

For all the doings we’ve took off them over the course of the years
We’ve secured some results against them so momentous it brings you to tears
I’d been fortunate enough to have an undefeated record at the Nou Camp
A memory forged, an irrepressible stamp

We’d only come for a short visit, a trip for a day
Patiently waiting on a bus to take us on our way
The bus was taking ages, we were the last group left there
We began to become nervous tugging at our hair

Whilst we waited we were treated to a bizarre drag show
Much as it was entertaining we just wanted to go
The bus came into view, clearly into sight
Much to our delirious, delectable, delight
Off to the airport, time to be on our way
Time to plan our next euro away day

Lisbon – They Call Him The Wanderer

When the draw was made for the group stages next time up
We were filled with confidence we could progress to the next round of the cup
It would be no easy task, and we would have to play well
Determined not to look back at the first hurdle having fell

The top seeds hailed from Manchester, like to sing glory, glory
Our stubbornness would ensure they wouldn’t put an end to our story
Benifica would provide us with a monumental test
They would have saw their natural place qualifying as second best
The bottom pot opponents, from Denmark, and Copenhagen
For them Euro football after Christmas would be worthy of celebration

The next away trip on the cards was one that was massively symbolic
Though my recklessness meant it turned out to spectacularly shambolic
The destination, a trip to a place revered in our clubs folklore
I’d have stayed in the house if I’d known what lay in store

Although not all of it was filled with the expected pleasure
I took memories away which I’ll always truly treasure
Seeing my wee Uncle Tony return to the scene 
Of the place where forty five years ago he’d witnessed his dream

Watched eleven men from Glasgow win the ultimate prize
Cut the famous Internazionale right down to size
To see him dancing and singing and turning back the years
Made me joyful and happy, and may have drawn a few tears

For this reason I’m glad that I decided to go
The rest of it was a tale of truly momentous woe
I’ll start at the beginning, back in Glasgow airport lounge
Double up for a pound extra, I didn’t want to scrounge

Their plane arrived late, they ended up delayed
Our plane arrived on time, we were completely flayed
Rather than do the sensible thing on the flight, and go for a snooze
We took advantage of the chance to ply ourselves with more booze

Arrived in the Portuguese Capital, the weather was fine
Sat outside a wee café, and ordered some wine
We had plenty of time on our hands to kill
There was hours until the match, and they hadn’t arrived still

Wandered about the city streets, enjoying our short vacation
Never realised that it was a Catholic holy day of obligation
We wondered why it was so quiet, why there was no one around
Apart from the travelling Celtic fans who had invaded the town
This presented a difficult problem for us, momentarily
There was barely a shop open for us to replenish our swally

We would have to go on adventure, set off on a quest
To get some more cargo, we were up for the test
It would give us a chance to take in some sights and do the tourist bit
Had to be careful to stay together and make sure we didn’t split

Me and the bold Damo, brothers in arms
Full of swagger, and humour, and boyish cheek and charm
Eventually found a place that had what we desired
An offies that was open, the only one that had transpired

A bottle of Jack Daniels to cover me for the long day ahead
I’d have to be careful or I’d end up in my bed
Already pissed by that point, we’d been drinking since about Six
Not an uncommon pattern of behaviour when we’re away following the Tic’

Made our way back to our base, back to the main square
To join our comrades, our buddies, to join in on the fan fare
Just like back in Barcelona, and back in Lyon
I met Big Smiddy and Duff, briefly joined them for a sing song

I didn’t even have the sense to buy myself a mixer
To dilute my Jack Daniels, a world famous elixir
Tanning it out the bottle like a total reprobate
These were the kind of stupid actions that would later decide my fate

As I mentioned at the start, a bit earlier in this rhyme
We met up with my Uncle Tony, a hero of mine
One of the best people I know he was there in all his glory
I call him the Twelfth Lion, he was a man of many great stories

He hitchhiked all the way to Lisbon as a teenager, back in nineteen sixty seven
He witnessed the Lisbon Lions victory, it send his head spinning
To see him back there, with his feet upon the holy ground
Singing and dancing, was quite truly profound

He was there with Uncle Charlie, another legend of my past
A vociferously loyal Celt, completely faithful to the last
My favourite ever game at Parkhead was spent in their company
The crowd rocked and rolled to the sound of the Celtic symphony

Our first ever season in the Champions League proper
We stuck it to Juventus, we made them come a cropper
A more exciting game you’ll probably never see
A four three victory, it filled us with glee
Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to see us through
Porto progressed at our expense and left us feeling slightly blue

I continued to rattle the whisky at a rate of knots
Clearly being sensible was excluded from my thoughts
Then out of nowhere, we received a surprise
The arrival of our buddies, the arrival of the guys

Mad Franny and Paul had a flight delay
It stole a big chunk out of the fun in their day
Not to worry, they were here, they had arrived safe and sound
In a couple of hours we’d be making our way and marching to the ground

It was great to see them, it had been an anxious wait
Thankfully they arrived in plenty of time to make sure they wouldn’t be late
For me and PJ, we’d been away together many times
For Damo and Franny, this is their first appearance in any of my rhymes
Their introduction to the euro fold, was one that was memorable during that season
Catastrophically for me it turned out to be for all the wrong reasons

When the time arrived to leave, I’d begun to slur my speech
Just had to get myself into the ground, it was within touching distance to reach
I was absolutely out of my dial, the jury was no longer out
Just had to rein in my behaviour and stop acting like a lout

The Celtic faithful started to disperse, started the set out from the square
Heading for the Estadio de Luz, towards the famous Benfica lair
Of a famous result we were optimistic but not assured
Into a false sense of security we refused to be lured

We were still very much in the mix for a place in the knockout stage
Every point was a prisoner, and a defeat would have filled us with rage
I’ll be honest, I can’t even remember getting to the match
Of the journey there I have no recollection, of even the slightest swatch

To add a layer of complication to an already precarious situation
Without cessation, in my current state, should have caused me consternation
Was the fact that we’d be embedded in amongst the home support
Like a couple of secret agents, back we were expected to report

We had to cover up our tops to make sure they would let us in
Their end would be saturated with our comrades, hiding out hoping for the win
Phase one turned out to be successful, within minutes we were sitting in our seats
Listening to the roughness and readiness and loudness of drum beats

They were raucous and rowdy, and up for vengeance
Delighted so soon to be given another chance
Knew our away record in Europe, knew how vulnerable we are
Looked from a quality performance from their glittering array of stars
The key thing as always was to avoid an early goal
Keep it solid at the back and stubbornly set out our stall

It took us less than ten minutes to meekly capitulate
The home crowd roared in jubilation and began to wildly celebrate
Nelson sped down the flank, sent the cross into the centre
Big Caldwell made a mistake, the costliest of errors

Directed the ball past Boruc into the back of the net
I was raging and angry, began to remonstrate and fret
Any attempt to conceal our identities as Celtic supporters
Went right out the window, had to hope they wouldn’t report us

At this point all was not lost, there was still plenty of time to play
Even if we could nick a wee point it would still have made our day
We had to steady the ship, and start coming into the game
It was still the early stages, no point assigning blame

But before we’d really had time to even venture out of our half
We were left hoping he would pull off Caldwell and give him an early bath
He was already on the scoresheet, for the wrong team he’d scored a goal
Now he came up with an assist, began to wonder if he was on their payroll

The keeper launched a long kick, which was very speculative
Caldwell steeped up to add to his already Kafkaesque narrative
The ball glanced off the top of his head
Fell into the path of Nuno Gomes, who put it to bed
For him it was his first Champions League goal in eight years
Our defenders were turning out a performance that was giving us the fear

Our only bright spot came just before we went up the tunnel
Miller sent a great pass to Pearson, sent him right down the funnel
He gave it his all, but he sent his shot wide past the post
We’d have to do something soon or our chances would be lost
The referee blew the whistle to bring first half proceedings to an end
We hoped half time prayers would help us, inspiration God would send

We were provided with inspiration, in an unexpected guise
A group of famous men took to the field, it was the famous Lisbon Lions
They too had played Benfica, a couple of years after they won that famous silverware
The tie was decided by a method that was arguably really unfair

Three goals each the tie turned out in aggregate
A coin toss would be the mechanism that decided our fate
We were fortunate, that night the gods were in our favour
The coin landed on our side, meant our run continued until later

All the way to the final of another European Cup
Though this time our luck had expired, our time was finally up
Overwhelming favourites to cement ourselves as Champions of Europe for a second time
The rookies of Feyenoord, that night they were simply sublime

They deserved their win, even though it was unexpected, and a surprise
Many Celtic fans that night would have been consumed with desperation and cries
One of their players that night, eventually became adored and revered
Preventing ten in a row, a first championship for a decade we were steered

The legend that is Wim Jansen, famous as a midfield dynamo
But also infamous for being nutmegged on the way to Archie Gemmels goal
A strike that Trainspotting made famous, through Rentons commentary during sex
Gave it additional power, and some special effects

I’ve digressed from the point of this story, to which I’ll now come return
Forty five minutes lay ahead of us, to prevent a crash and burn
Already two nil down, and in a little spot of trouble
It wouldn’t take much to completely burst our bubble

An early second half goal for us could turn the game on its head
Whereas another goal for them would put or chances to bed

McGeady came on as a substitute, injected some purpose into our play
Might have made a difference at another time on another day
This time the momentum and forces of nature were against us
By this point I never knew what was happening due to my drunkenness

They continued to come at us they prodded and they pressed
No matter how much we tried to resist, we were clearly second best
With less than fifteen minutes to go they got their just reward
The scoreline demonstrated the had completely put us to the sword

Karyaka slotted it through the legs of Caldwell, and past Boruc who was outstretched
It nestled comfortably once again in the back of our net
This made me lose the plot I went into a drunken strop
Pulled my Hoops over my head, and threw away my top

I wasn’t finished there, I was losing all respect
Next thing I knew I had thrown away my specs
For most of the game we’d managed to stay under the radar 
Not the case any longer as a result of my rager

No chance we were coming back from a deficit so large
For the entirety of the game they’d been very much in charge
We went down meekly, went down at a whimper
The last kick from Nakamura was easily saved by Quim the keeper

As we exited the stadium, we’d been left high and dry
Left bitterly disappointed, left ready to cry
Left wondering Why oh why oh why oh why oh why
Had to suck it up and bear it, had to dry our sodden eyes

My memories of leaving the ground are pretty hazy
My alcohol consumption left my cognition feeling lazy
A fleeting memory of climbing a fence, crossing a road dangerous and chaotic
Desperate not to miss our bus, lost our senses and acting quixotic

Navigated our way across the road, dodging in and out of traffic
Behaviour dangerous and senseless and verging on erratic
In spite of our drunkenness, our inebriated state
We made it in time for our bus, only fashionably late

The bus pulled away, headed north east away from the stadium of the light
We felt depressed and derisory, and if being honest pretty shite
Despite having skelped almost a full bottle of Bourbon
Felt as if my buzz was wearing off, it was time to get my booze on

The driver made a pit stop, to let us stock up on supplies
My decision making skills impaired, I wasn’t prone to being wise
Picked up a massive carton of what I think was table wine
Convinced topping up on the bevvy would leave me feeling fine
In terms of volume it was big, must have been a least a litre
What materialised from there can only be described as an act of theatre

The airport wasn’t far, probably about four miles away
Barely a hop, skip and a jump, barely time to get into the fray
How on Gods earth I managed to skelp it in such a short duration
My boozing abilities, such a light upon our nation

From there it went blank, my memories were sparse
The speed I drank the wine at, left me completely on my arse
Of standing in the queue for security, sometimes it momentarily flashes back
Surreal moments from the past, but clarity they lack

I said to my babysitter Damo, I was going outside for a puff
He gave me more credit than I’m due, he said enjoy, and good stuff
An evidentiary picture shows me talking to a Police Officer outside
It was from that moment that my fortunes irreversibly began to slide

The next thing I knew I was sauntering along a dual carriageway
Not a care in the world, relaxed with no stress present to ruin my day
My phone rang, I wonder who that could be?
My heart, my soul, my everything, just to check in on me and see
How was I doing, was I safe and secure?
The object of my affection, of allure, and of course of my  amour

I had a quick glance to the right, to determine my location
Convinced the Fort shopping centre was my current destination
Thought I had decided to walk home from the airport in Glasgow
In reality I was knee deep in a totally incoherent shit show
Communicated this news to my loving other half
Are you kidding me on? Are you having a laugh?

At this point, I was too drunk to comprehend how worried she was
Little did I realise she would mobilise for the cause
Jumped a taxi out to Easterhouse, to bring a safe end to my day
Not an inkling I was still oot my nut thousands of miles away

From there everything went blank, I entered a dark canyon in my mind
A period of time completely lost, my memory was blind
Woke up at a bus stop cuddling a two litre bottle of Fanta
My ridiculous behaviour was now very much part of my mantra

I was confused, and convinced I was beside the exhibition centre
The tall buildings all around me looked vaguely familiar
The best course of action would be to get a bus into town
Then I had a revelation that immediately made me frown
Looked up at a street sign, it definitely wasn’t Argyle Street
Noticed the Estadio Jose Alvelade on the other side, enough to make me greet

I quickly went into survival mode, how would I get to a hotel?
I knew I’d missed my flight, I felt as if I was entering hell
Stumbled across a garage, maybe my luck was taking a turn
Asked a girl to phone me a taxi to the airport, her look was taciturn
Despite the communication problems, and obvious language gap
She picked up on the basics, and seemed to give a crap

Before long I was speeding back along the motorway
Towards the airport, it had been an adventure, and disaster packed day
When I arrived back there safely, had a crucial phone call to make
It was critically important and really couldn’t wait

It was half four in the morning when Jacqueline found out
I was still stranded in Portugal she had every reason to be upset and shout
It was the most I had put her through over the last couple of years
Unsurprising she was upset and it had brought her to tears

At least now she knew where I was, could stop looking in vain
Scouring the eastern outskirts of Glasgow must have really been a pain 
If nothing else she was being put to great wasteful expense
Travelling round looking for me in a taxi, of finding me not a chance

I wandered round the airport looking for a friendly face
For someone who would take me under their wing, show me charity and grace
The airport was pretty quiet at that time in the morning
Not a flight would be leaving for ages, everyone was sitting round patiently yawning
Met a group of Celtic fans waiting for their flight to Geneva
Explained I’d be lucky to get a direct flight to Glasgow, it’d be a while before I’d leave’a

I only had two items left in my possession
They were the most important things of all, of that there was no question
My credit card safely tucked up in my back jeans pocket
My passport nestling in the other, I’d board a homebound rocket

I found a quiet spot where I could chill out and keep coping
No point in stressing out any more, until the sales desks were open
When they did open, had to wake myself and mobilise
A ticket home at this point was an extremely desirable prize

The first desk I went up, the name of the airline escapes me
A thousand euros for a one way ticket, as ridiculous a price as you’ll see
The last time I’d spoken to Jacqueline, I’d scheduled a phone call
When I did I was received with news that could only serve to enthral

While I was stoating about the airport, she was searching for a route home
A passage up the road so I no longer had to roam
Monarch airlines had a flight to Gatwick, and London town
Only two hundred a fifty euros, at that price I had no reason to frown
Once I touched down in the yoo kay, I could navigate my way
The short trip up the road in comparative safety

Secured my ticket from the desk, and began to look for my gate
Only an hour until take off, barely any time to wait
When I got to security, it was going to be an ordeal
More so for them than me, the state I was in was unreal

They made me take my trackie top off, which left my wee bare top exposed
If you remember earlier in the story I threw my t-shirt away, leaving me without my proper clothes
Also made me take my shoes off, not the cleverest thing to do
I’d been walking for so long they were absolutely stinking through
My walk of shame through security definitely drew a few looks
Looked like I’d been pulled through a hedge backwards, it was one for the books

Once I’d navigated security, it was time to settle down
Kick back and have a drink to get rid of my stressful frown
Headed up to the bar, casually ordered a double whisky
It had been a tiring night, and I was feeling far from frisky

Boarded the flight without any further episode
I had fair enjoyed the whisky, now my pale complexion glowed
Another complimentary drink on the flight, increased the wideness of my smile
Secure in the knowledge I’d be home in just a while

Once we alighted at Gatwick, I found myself in race
To catch the flight to Glasgow and minimise further delays
Unluckily for me, by the time I reached the easyjet counter
The lady couldn’t take any more bookings, as her colleagues agreed around her

The next flight I’d be able to board didn’t leave until after eight
Quite a few hours to go, it would be an exhausting wait
There was nothing else for it, time to hit the pub
Grab a few swallys and perhaps even get some grub

The surroundings were comfortable, albeit slightly dear
Everyone knows you’ll pay well over the odds in the airport for a beer
When I first came in the pub there was no one around
Soon found myself in company who were pleasant and sound

Met a group of tims on their way home, though their connection was deliberate
When I told them of my travails, sparked a laugh and some curious interest
Everyone of them came from Kings Park, made me reflect on days of old
Happy memories of the hundred acres bus, some stories to be told

After a few enjoyable hours, sharing stories of euro days away
It was time to get ourselves up the road, time to make oor way hame
The flight up the road was quiet, and the time went past pretty quick
Though still had enough time for a wee cheeky drink

Touched down in Glasgow, ready for the last leg
Dying to get up the road, dying to get into my bed
I still had one hurdle I had to negotiate
Had to express my heartfelt apologies, to my beloved, who had every right to hate

I’d put her through the wringer, filled her heart with anxiety and stress
Yet her behaviour and her actions demonstrated her to be the very best
Buried any of her feelings about my selfish behaviours deep down inside
All she cared about was that I was home and I was alright

I was received at the airport with a welcome I didn’t deserve
Her selflessness was there for all to see, for anyone to observe
She welcomed me home armed with bottles of Magners and a box of Maltesers
For all I’d made her worry sick, she saw my safe return as a moment to display a big cheeser

Although she’d done her best to look after me, and was my number one fan
She had no hesitation in issuing a permanent Lisbon ban
There was no argument from me, on a leg I didn’t have to stand
It just felt great to be safely home, it truly felt grand

Milan – The Business End

This next lyrical journey takes us partly into the unknown
I’d already been to the destination, though in stature we had grown
For the first time in our illustrious history we made it beyond the group
A number of us would travel over in a happy little troop

Our path to get there was memorable it has to be said
It helped to put my previous mishaps to bed
My trip to Lisbon had been an unmitigated disaster
Though the story when I recount it fills people with laughter

In spite of the doing we took in the stadium of light
We’d stayed alive another day in which to put up a fight
Going into the second last game, against the Red Devils of Manchester
We were determined not to go out meekly, we were determined to cause a stir

A decent enough campaign, with our good performances at home
And our usual capitulation when away in Europe we roam
Had a chance to keep our Champions League run going after the festivities
Not something we are used to, a habitual and regular activity

Approached the game poised and positioned on six points
Another three might just be enough, leave us at a crucial adjoint
Not many out there would have given us the slightest shout
Of beating the famous Man United, and putting the stars of Benfica out
If we somehow managed to do it, it would go down in our illustrious history
Hoped we could, believed we should, we’d overcome them with our trickery

I can remember the night well, although I wasn’t at the game
We had a full house up at mine, anticipating our moment of fame
No one was really cognisant of the different permutations
That might lead to an unexpected early celebration

The match went end to end, but without an abundance of clear chances
In spite of our hunger for goals, and continual advances
Confident a point simply wouldn’t be enough
Continued to push forward, to huff and to puff

Only ten minutes left on the clock of a cagey affair
Won a free kick thirty yards out, would he have a pop, would he dare
Nakamura, one of the best dead ball specialists in the game
Handed a chance to cement his place in the Parkhead hall of fame

Stepped up to the ball confidently, with perfect swagger and poise
Past Van Der Sar into the top corner, the place exploded with noise
A more perfect example of free kick execution your unlikely to see
Shame we weren’t at the game and had to watch it on TV

Very little time left for them to pull themselves back
They would definitely try and swung into attack
Saha was presented with a chance he should have put away
Dithered in front of goal, for which he was made to pay

The clock was ticking down, and with only moments left
They were gifted one more chance to put Boruc to the test
Ronaldo hit a free kick, which Maloney handled by mistake
We hoped and prayed for mercy, for everybody’s sake

It was left to the holy goalie to secure a famous victory
That’s exactly what he did when he flew to his right and pushed it away
It had been an amazing performance, fulfilled all of our dreams
My house was left echoing with victorious screams

The curious thing was, most didn’t realise we’d qualified
Results in other games meant we’d continue our ride
Took a bit of time for the news to be confirmed
Our place in the last sixteen had been officially affirmed
The wild celebrations, they took a different turn
Partying into the night, both end of the candle we would burn

We even had a chance to finish as the group winners
Regrettably, as per usual we were euro away match sinners
Lost to Copenhagen, squandered a massive opportunity
Our lack of congruence away continued, inexplicable disunity

In the draw for the knockout stages, our very first foray
Could we progress even further, was it going to be our day
Our opponents came out the hat, once again the famous Rossoneri
Were we scared of our opponents, I can guarantee not very

Perhaps we should have been given some of the players in their squad
People like Kaka, and Maldini, and Pirlo the Italian footballing god
Some would say we were fortunate given some of the talent not playing
Ronaldo, Seedorf and Inzaghi wouldn’t be involved in the game
We’d shown enough in Europe over previous years
To show that we could mix it and had no reason to show fear

The first leg at Parkhead done nothing to split the teams
A goalless draw described as a chess match, alive remained our dreams
They were arguably the better side, and had their fair share of opportunities
But we had held our own, and in the second leg we would approach with importunity

The time from then went fast, and soon our moment would arrive
Decided to fly down, couldn’t be arsed with the timescales involved in a drive
Touched down in London town, at a famous airport called Heathrow
From there onwards to Brians, with intent and with gusto

Dumped our stuff, and quickly headed out to investigate
What London town had to offer, would it interest us and placate?
Situated in in Middlesex which was on the periphery of the city
A short walk and then a train into the centre, lauded by many as pretty

I have to admit, I wasn’t left with a particularly good impression
Met with unfriendliness, urgency and sometimes unbridled aggression
Found a pub that looked reasonably quiet, decided to grab a pint
When they came back with the bill, it gave us quite a fright

Decided to up the ante, and order in some shots
Just what the doctor ordered, it would really hit the spot
We settled on a combination, a favourite wee tipple
A mixture of Sambuca and Baileys, known universally as a slippery nipple
Mad Brian decided to change the name, christen it something else that night
He called them Belfast Bombers, in a London pub bound to elicit a fright

After a decent scoop, we headed out from the pub
Some of us were hungry, and were choking for some grub
Took a wander through Soho, famed for its links with LGBTQ
Hilariously accosted by a couple of drag queens as we calmly sauntered through

Headed back up the road to Brians, really should have had an early night
Had to be up at the very crack of dawn to catch our AliItalia flight
The consensus was to pop round to the local for a couple
Any more than that and we risked a morning full of trouble

Piled back round to our home base in fairly decent numbers
Unlikely many of us would find the space to get a proper slumber
It was the early hours of the morning before most of even tried
Guaranteed when we woke up we’d still be drunk and completely fried

After at most a couple of hours sleep had been banked for the day ahead
The rousing alarm calls reverberated to get us up out of our beds
When I say beds that’s an exaggeration and not strictly correct
The vast majority never had a bed and camped out on the deck
Additionally some had stayed up all night and continued drinking
It was going to be a long hard day, what must they have been thinking?

Speeding along the motorway towards Heathrow
Excitedly looking forward to the trip – here we fucking go!
Grabbed a Costa Coffee to get a well needed caffeine fix
Before starting drinking once again, perpetually on the piss

We would be travelling across different flights in two separate groups
Temporarily we would be split up from the rest of the troops
The group I was in were lucky as our flight was scheduled first
Meant we could get a swally and some relaxation to stop us feeling burst

Our flight departed on time, which we did appreciate
We’d arrive in Milan pretty shortly, the prospect of which was great
The time on the plane was brief, enough to get in a couple of beverages
I was on the whisky, lifted my mood and added some leverage

When we touched down at the airport, we didn’t mess about
Grabbed our luggage, then straight to the centre so we could avoid a drought
Rather than head straight to the hotel to get ourselves checked in
Stopped at a pub for a few swallies, bottoms up for us, chin chin!
Delayed our advance on the hotel to give the others time to arrive
Looking forward to reuniting so we could once again collectively thrive

The weather was reasonably pleasant so concurred to sit in the beer garden
The next thing there were young kids beside our table – can we help? I beg your pardon?
From what we could decipher, they were asking us to sign a petition
When I actual fact they been send on a clandestine and deceitful mission

Within a couple of minutes of them trotting away
The accompanying adults were demanding some pay
Tried to make out we’d signed up to giving them money
Didn’t take our refusal very well – didn’t find it very funny

For all their threatening nature, they were clearly outnumbered
Eventually left quietly when dawned on them their chances were scuppered
Seems to be an occupational hazard any time we go away
Chancers trying to rob us putting a negative spin on our day

The rest of our squad descended on the pub, reunited once again
We’d came in decent numbers, even if we were split across two planes
Our hotel was only a hop, skip and jump away from the station
Once we’d polished off our drinks, walked along in a disciplined formation

When we descended on the hotel, we were instantly pretty pleased
A pub situated directly across the road we’d be able to get to with rapidity and ease
We passed a couple of cargo shops along the road on our way
It was turning out to be all in all a really decent day

The hotel was different from the norm, it was more like a little holiday village
A garden area in the middle of the complex, perfect for some casual tillage
It didn’t take us long to check in, and dump all our stuff
Keen not to waste any time, and get our arses to the pub

We’d been swallying since early bells, victims were soon bound to emerge
The demon alcohol, as always we couldn’t help but splurge
After a couple of Belfast bombers, I decided to put on the brakes
We were fast beginning to look and act like a group of drunken jakes

I made a detour to the shop, to procure a cargo for the room
I’d feel like a wee drink later it was definitely safe to assume
Whilst I was relaxing with a beer, chilling out with some of the boys
I heard a voluminous commotion, fraught with banging and with noise

Damo was pounding violently on a door across the way
He was doing so in error, that’s not where he was supposed to stay
Thought Brendan was sleeping and had ceremoniously passed out
Continued to rattle away and to scream and to shout

Some poor bugger was probably cowering in the corner
Hoping they wouldn’t be murdered by this crazy sounding foreigner
Someone from our crowd was thankfully there to keep him right
Directing him to the right room before he inflicted any more fright

The first night, as expected ended up a bit of a mess
We’d been drinking since the crack of dawn and really put our tolerance to the test
A good sleep for everyone was just as the Doctor ordered
There wasn’t a single one of us left who wasn’t absolutely slaughtered

The following day most of us were up as fresh as a daisy
No one wanted to waste any time or be accused of being lazy
Had a day of freedom to do what we wanted ahead of the game the next day
Plenty of pubs kicking about into which we could go and play

Sauntered across the road for something to munch and swally
Not under any pressure to be anywhere, plenty of scope to dilly dally
Sat chilling out at the front window of the pub, observing life go by
Watched him deck it while trying to climb in his room window
Saw an incident that made us laugh, but almost made James cry
Watched him deck it while trying to climb in his room window
He wouldn’t be dancing anytime soon, certainly wouldn’t be doing the limbo

At first glance it was an incident where humour was a legitimate reaction
Until it looked as if he might end up in hospital in traction
He writhed on the ground quite clearly in pain
Learned a lesson, and wouldn’t try something as stupid as that again

The rest if the day was relatively quiet and uneventful
A sensible option was to relax and take advantage of the chance to be restful
The next day would be long, and tiring, and filled full of festive boozing
Hoped for once we could get the result, we were sick and tired of losing

The odds were stacked against us, we were playing a European giant in their back yard
But we’d stopped them scoring an away goal, despite them trying very hard
It would come down to this one game, a cup final equivalent
We had to make sure we took our chances, couldn’t afford to be ambivalent

Made sure we got a decent sleep, turned up the next day all present and correct
Might as well start of on the right foot, as we would soon be getting wrecked
Our plan for the day was to find the hordes of hoops faithful
Who’d descended on the city, their mood as always mischievous and playful
Heard a rumour the vast majority would be congregating at the race course
The reverberation of Celtic songs vibrating, that was bound to be the be the source

Bound to find it eventually we stumbled around together
It was a decent day, so there were no issues with the weather
Arrived in brilliant spirits, ready and primed to take our place
At the home of the horses, where the fillies often race

The place was absolutely buzzing, their was an air of expectation
Even if our famed hosts expected to send us home in frustration
The rebel songs were belted out, in unison and loudly
We celebrated our teams achievement boisterously and proudly

Hung about for a few hours, partying with the faithful
To be part of such a close knit club, forever thankful and grateful
Had to get ourselves ready and leave in plenty of time for the game
No one wanted to be late, and was prepared to shoulder the blame

Towards the Giuseppe Meazza, The Scala, or San Siro
We marched in hopeful optimism for victory for our heroes
Got ourselves quickly settled once we were inside
One and all we were up for it along for the ride

Situated in an enclosure, with a roof over our heads
The noise reverberated, and echoed in joyful song we were led
In spite of our lesser numbers, there to make our presence felt
Bring on the Rossoneri so we can get them fucking telt
We’re no very scared, no matter who you think you are
With an entitled attitude like yours you’ll not get very far

As always there were Celtic fans decked in the colours of Palestine
Supporting justice, and freedom, going against the party line
The teams took to the pitch, to the sound of an almighty roar
Anticipation was high, for what might lay in store

The game kicked off, a frenetic and rapid start
We were determined to give a good show, full of spirit and of heart
The holy goalie was called into action with less than five minutes on the clock
Was at full stretch to block Kakas shot, a crucially important stop

We rallied immediately, presed forward looking for chance
Took the Milan defence on a wander, a pirouette and dance
A decision early on turned out to be completely shite
Denied a stonewall penalty, an early sign it might not be our night
Jarosik hit a shot, hopeful it would be the opening goal
Maldini used an arm to block it, a clear cut chance from us was stole

The legend that is Pirlo curled a free kick that was off target
Shortly afterwards Naylor put in a saving tackle worthy of a red carpet
Inzaghi slid in looked as if it was a done deal
Our Lee slid in, took it away from his toe with determination and with zeal

Kaka hit a low strike just a few yards from the goal line
Once again Naylor was our hero as he deflected it away just in time
Five minutes before the break we nearly secured a fortunate breakthrough
Boneras clearance hit Oddo, who didn’t have a clue
The ball ricocheted towards goal, a path had been majestically paved
Before Dida, the big diving bastard, made a miraculous save

The pattern of play for the second half was as you would expect
The home team pushed forward, all present and correct
We knew our chances would be limited and we had to keep it tight at the back
Ready to pounce at the first sign of any weakness, we couldn’t afford to be slack

The Rossoneri were looking sharp, we were solid and steadfast
Now that we’d made the knockout stages, we were determined we could last
Pippo hit the side of the net with an effort that was ambitious
Shortly afterwards Naylor brought him down and instantly looked contritious

We let out a sigh of relief when it was deemed just outside the box
A penalty would have caused our hearts to sink and filled us with shock
From then on in it was very much a game of cat and mouse
The winner would most likely be whoever showed the most tactical nous

The last five minutes of normal time were torrid and chaotic
At times our defence was mesmerised as they stood there looking robotic
First up was Maldini, he connected brilliantly with a cross
Our big polish legend, the holy goalie showed hm who was boss

Then Seedorf stepped up, hit a free kick that looked unstoppable
For a lesser man perhaps, but big Artur was unflappable
The man of the match on the night Kaka struck it perfectly from eighteen yards
The last kick of the game crashed off the cross bar, his luck was running hard

We’d matched the six time winners for a darts game top score
Needed another massive effort in extra time, a push one more
After all that effort, that blood, and sweat, and tears
We were undone in three minutes, succumbed to our worst fears

Kaka has been threatening to score for almost the entire match
Of his ingenuity, we were given a cruel swatch
He slipped past Lenny on the half way line
Then drove past McManus with a change of pace so fine

Despite having been a hero the entire night, a true goalkeeping legend
In a moment of true genius, the inimitable Kaka pegged him
He’d broken the seal, the stalemate and deadlock to put them one up
It now looked likely we’d sadly be exiting the big cup
We kept plugging away, but it was to no avail
When the ref blew the final whistle, by a single goal we trailed

Although we were disappointed, we continued to sing and shout
Commended by the stewards who gave us a standing ovation coming out
Made a beeline for the tram to take us back to our hotel
Our feeble attempt to catch it never turned out very well
As we arrived at the tram stop, it started to trundle away out of sight
Out of reach for the moment, as it moved into the star swept night

I can’t remember who it was who came up with the idea?
Of attempting to walk it, a notion that gave me the fear
Whoever suggested it in the first place, everyone seemed to agree
Though by that point every single one of us was out of our tree

We began our epic journey full of youthful enthusiasm
By the end of the five our walk, our tired muscles were going into spasm
PJ was our de facto leader, seemed like the one with the most sense
The most decorum, and wisdom available to dispense
He took the initiative as seasoned leaders often do
The rest of us were gibbering, and sounded as if we were high on the glue

After an extended aimless wander, putting our weary legs to the test
We stumbled upon a vendor, who even at that time was filled with zest
He offered us a saviour, and come to our rescue
Of getting home safely our hopes were suddenly renewed

‘I’ll sell you a map of this wonderful city’
‘You’ll see many captivating sites, so gracious and pretty’
‘I will get you home, you don’t have to worry’
‘You’ll be home before midnight if you pay attention and hurry’

We accepted his words collectively as a group
A pished and carefree agreeable little troop
Charged off in the direction we’d been assured and told
Filled with bravado and confidence, we were feeling reckless and bold

We must have been walking for at least a good hour
Before stopping, and realising we’d been a misguided shower
Our resident Cartographer, adjusted the map
‘We’ve been going in the wrong direction, oh holy crap!’
It could have been worse, we could have walked further in the wrong direction
It was actually a decent result, in retrospective reflection

I’d already been to Milan previously, and seen next to nothing
Never anticipated my opportunity was suddenly coming
Like a bolt out of the blue we were bathed in phosphorescent light
The famous Duomo Cathedral, a magnificent sight

Shortly afterwards we were wandering through the district of fashion
For some a once in a lifetime opportunity to fulfil their passion
By default our wrong turn had turned out better than expected
Kind of glad we had a wander before we’d been corrected
To complete the entertainment for the night I randomly jumped into an ornamental pond
It felt like the right thing to do, an opportunity to bond

When we arrived back at our digs, we were totally knackered
Spent and broken and absolutely cream crackered
Some dick from the staff chapped the door, asked us to keep the noise down
Lucky he escaped with his life and that he didn’t drown

Despite being on the end of an unfortunate result
We were very mature about it, and continued to exult
We modestly partied for the remainder of the night
Still the rest of the trip to look forward to, positive and bright

On the last day of the trip, we were ready to go
We were proud of our team, they’d given us a show
Arrived at the airport, stocked up on some alcohol
Brian bought one of the biggest cans I’ve ever seen the opposite of small

A pair of phantom trousers gave us a chuckle and a laugh
You had to be there to understand -  someone having a giraffe
Spoke of what would come next, the season ahead
Hoped to secure some silverware to put the disappointment to bed!

AC Milan – Victorious in defeat

We went in to the next campaign full of optimism and vigour
The draw was made and we let out a snigger
It felt as if we were being followed by red and black stripes
A group without Milan now didn’t feel right

It wasn’t only AC who had become a familiar foe 
The Portuguese eagles were up for it, ready to have a go
The third seeds were familiar, in the shape of Donetsk
Another difficult group ready to put us to the test

We’d come through an absolute cracker of a preliminary tie
A third round match against Spartak we had to navigate to qualify
After a first leg in Russia, with a share of the spoils
Needed a result at Paradise to stop our hopes and dreams being foiled

In the first game we took an unlikely lead away
A cracking header from Hartley put us one nil up on the day
Big Pavlyuchenko, we knew he’d be their biggest threat
Proved us right at the end of the half, his header nearly burst the net

Rode our luck at times as they searched for a winning goal
Yet nearly won the game when in their defence we found a hole
McGeady threaded a ball through to Brown, gave him a chance
Pletikosa made a save followed by a celebratory dance

The result suited us better, this was unquestionably true
Gave ourselves a great platform to set us up for going through
Onwards and upwards to the return leg at Parkhead
As we sought to ascertain our dominance and turn the tie on its head

Unfolded as one of the most exciting nights in our European history
Unfortunately for me my levels of inebriation rendered it a mystery
The first major incident was after twenty five minutes had passed
They were awarded a spot kick, which we were quick to lambast

A shot ricocheted off the holy goalie, hitting the arm of Caldwell
He wasn’t even conscious it happened just as he fell
The ref awarded a soft spot kick, suddenly we all felt lost
Until Pavluchenko fucked it, and it crashed back off the post
A welcome slice of good fortune, we were only too happy to absorb
The noise cranked up within the ground, lets put them to the sword!

Two minutes later, we were living the dream
A defensive mistake started the rapture and screams
Skippy latched on to a defensive clearance which was poor
Done what good strikers do and accepted the opportunity to score
The stadium reverberated, it rocked and it rumbled
Spartak has shown their weakness, they had uncharacteristically stumbled

For the rest of the half we seemed to control the game
Until a moment of madness that filled us with shame
Once again it was big Roman, controlled the ball on his chest
Sent in a sweeping shot, he gave it his very best
Scored an equalising goal at a crucially important time
Adding a momentary element of sadness to this positive rhyme

Boruc was raging, couldn’t accept that they had scored
Had a go at Naylor, bar Browns intervention he would have been floored
The whistle came at a helpful and opportune moment
Needed to regroup and recalibrate, set us up for late bestowment

The game recommenced, nerves were torn and they were frayed
Nothing to separate the teams who both hoped it would be their day
We started leaning toward our Japanese savant, our Bhoy Nakamura
After his goal against the red devils, we thought nothing was surer

To our disbelief, he squandered three chances in two minutes
What more could we do to make sure that we win it?
Presented with another incident that offered opportunity
Stranzl saw red for a moment of total lunacy

Vennegoor flashed a header wide, and Boruc clawed a shot away
Then the gods smiled down on us and we won a penalty
Big Jan struck it cleanly but it crashed off the bar
Looked likely it was going to penalties, we were going to war
Boruc, the holy goalie, proved the hero of the night
Saved two of their efforts, allayed our nervousness and fright

Caldwell, Jan, Riordan and Zurawski found the target successfully
Gave is the goals we needed, elevated our chances majestically
Although I was there, to witness it first hand
My drunken state meant my memories were hazy and bland

So on to the group stages we marched once again
Done ourselves proud and cemented our fame
Could we achieve the previous years heady heights?
Could we make the knockout stages to all of our delight?

The game against Milan at Parkhead was one for the history books
A last minute goal from Skippy gave us the win, the ground shook
Some nutjob ran on the park, giving poor Dida a slap
Went down like a ton of bricks in an embarrassing flap
We taken the scalp of the European Champions
A day in our history that you could only describe as halcyon

The game against Donetsk gave us a bit of a fright
A Donati goal deep into injury time set Parkhead alight
As we readied ourselves to take on the Rossoneri
We were sitting on nine points, our home form had been steady
Needing a favour from Benfica, as Shakthar had a better head to head
Or needed to take a point to stop our hopes being put to bed

Myself, Damo and the one and only Bru
Travelled with hope in our hearts, optimistic we could get through
In terms of Champions League results, it was a bit of a golden era
Sparkled and shined at Parkhead, like the Greek Island of Thera

Although we’ve always been lacking when we’ve travelled away
We were unbeatable at Parkhead, we would always have our day
It didn’t matter who we were up again, didn’t matter who we faced
We regularly put the very best of them firmly in their place

The plane glided smoothly along the Malpensa runway
Our arrival for the commencement of another euro away day
Just like the last time we’d booked a few days
A sensible option, day trips leave you exhausted and fazed
A wee city break gives you some time to relax and settle
Before giving it both barrels and demonstrating your mettle

We touched down in the evening, an exception to the norm
Meant we’d have to delay any partying to take the place by storm
After a stop outside the airport for a few snaps for souvenirs
Jumped the bus like happy chaps on route to getting ourselves some beers

Can’t remember the name of the hotel, though know it was in the centre
A very sensible idea, meant a short journey home if we were on a bender
Found it fairly easily, which was a stroke of luck
Messing around at that time of night, would have definitely sucked

Given it was my third time in the city, I should have known my way round
Still didn’t have a clue, no navigation skills to be found
It was a good job I had the other amigos to keep me right
Should I do the inevitable and put myself into the shite

We had a lack of time the first night with which to spread our wings
Made do with a few Sambucas while we packed away our things
With my previous disastrous experiences on our euro trips away
I liked to have a contingency plan in place should a need arise to save the day

Planked money and bankcards in secret places just in case
Unfortunately misplaced them as ended up out my face
Tried to find where I had planked them even though I was spanked 
Became worried I had lost them so cancelled them with the bank

The last thing I needed was a massive bill due to fraud
It was fortunate I had my buddies to bail me out, that I wasn’t on my tod
After wasting a chunk of time on the phone to render my cards useless
Another search of the hotel room proved the opposite of fruitless

Found my cards and money in the pockets of my jeans
Absolutely no use now, I could feel myself ready to scream
A lesson to be learned, if you’re going to hide something away
Make sure your memory is functioning and continuing to obey

Went out that evening resolved to make our presence felt
To show the Milanese locals how proud we are to be Celts
Having fun whilst still behaving even though tanking our liver
Unlike Scotlands shame, or rivals just across the river
Can’t take them anywhere, they’ll leave the place in a mess
Invariably reported the next day, splashed all across the press

After a congenial night out partying in the town
Headed back to our digs to get our heads down
It made sense for us to get to bed early to rest
The next day our reserves of energy would be put to the test

They gave us James McGrory and Paul McStay
Gave us Johnstone, Tully, Murdoch, Auld and Hay
Most of the football greats
Have walked through Parkheads gates
Just to play football the Glasgow Celtic way
A song we truly love was very much the order of the day
Walking through the tunnel, singing it at the top of our voices
Whenever we follow the Celts were always keen to rejoice

Another song I’m sure we coined on that trip
One we proudly invented, it wasn’t part of any script
It doesn’t matter who were up against, to whom were compared
At the end of the day ‘We’re no fucking scared’
Confident we can beat anybody, no matter who, on our day
If we stick to our guns and play the Glasgow Celtic way

Although we were there for a few days
We were totally gone with the wind, and lack memories
Confident that we had a blazing good time
Just missing the granular detail to include in this rhyme

So on to the game, the focus for our trip
Hoped we could get a result, to defeat we wouldn’t slip
Always optimistic no matter what the circumstances
Confident we’ll steal something if we put away our chances
Didn’t matter to us we were facing the reigning champions
Still believed in our ability to weather their storms

Got ourselves settled in our allocated seats
Hoped we’d be in for a giant killing treat
In the background the famous San Siro towers
Enough to make most teams capitulate and cower

The Milan fans never turned up in numbers that you’d expect
Already through to the knockouts so they decided to neglect
The numbers on the night showed it was only half full
Thirty eight thousand fans seated in their stools

Heavily outnumbered but still pumping out the sound
Their tepid attempts at singing we ceremoniously drowned
More often than not we make more noise than the home team
Fuelled by alcohol and passion and with a head full of steam

When the game commenced, both teams seemed tentative
Our hopes rested on taking a point, we had to bes augmentative
News started to filter around the famous old stadium
Pockets of Celtic fans started to celebrate with solatium

Cardozo, who’d robbed us of a late away point
Had taken control and was dominating the joint
The game at Donetsk was barely twenty minutes in
Two goals from their talisman had set them up for the win
If Benfica managed to get a result in their favour
We didn’t need to panic, or stress, or unnecessarily labour

Our confidence was shaken just ten minutes later
A penalty from Shakhtar, Lucarellis goal was a deflator
An hour left with which to a level the tie
Had to do our own thing or our chances could die

Managed a first shot on target just before the forty minute mark
Other than that we had been largely devoid of significant spark
The Rossoneri threatened to breach the deadlock just before the break
Three time winner Seedorfs finishing lacked the incision of a snake

We were crestfallen when Brown picked up a booking
Meant if we made the next round from the stand he be looking
His evening got worse a few minutes later with an uncharacteristic miss
Gratuitously he never showed his anger by landing a Glasgow kiss

With an hour on the clock they started to increase their tempo and rhythm 
Between the quality of our performance appeared an obvious schism
Big Caldwell done well to get in the way of Seedorfs strike
A much better performance than Lisbon, a much stronger psych

Next up was Pip Inzaghi, a man normally so prolific
His miss by his standards was indubitably horrific
A chance so clear cut you’d expect nothing less than him to put it away
Could this be a sign that it was going to be our day?

We should have known better, lady luck very rarely on our side
Looked like we’d be returning home with nothing more than pride
They took the lead with less than twenty minutes left
It was deflating, and disappointing, our hopes became bereft

Inzaghi, prolific and poised, the complete talisman
Slipped a low shot home past Borucs despairing hands
Although it was a poachers goal and didn’t exude magnificence
He’d broken a long standing European record, and it held significance

Surpassed the fabled Gerd Muller in Euro competitions, taking his tally to sixty three
Had every right to be proud of himself, and be bursting with pride and glee
The way the game was going looked unlikely we would equalise
If we were going to qualify for the knockouts, would have to be under a different guise

Kept plugging away in the hope we could turn the tide in our favour
If we never managed to score our existence in the competition was in danger
Brown struck a decent shot which warmed the keepers hands
This land is my land, this land is your land
From the Northern Highlands
To the Western Islands
From the hills of Kerry 
To the streets of free Derry

The final whistle blew, we were magnanimous in defeat
Two successive defeats in the San Siro was enough to make us greet
All was not lost, it depended on the other result
Perhaps we would get our chance to celebrate, and to feel the exult

The result filtered through, could it really be the case?
Could we have triumphed in the end in the race for second place?
For the second successive season, we’d made the last sixteen
Something in a contemporary sense that would be a pipe dream
Two of our old foes had battled it out
At the end it was Benfica who gave a victorious shout

It was the score that we needed to guarantee we progressed
Suddenly our trip had turned into a celebratory fest
Found out we had qualified just as we were leaving
The Celtic fans began to sign and dance, the place was absolutely heaving

We bounced out of the ground on cloud nine singing ‘Bring on the Chelsea’
Didn’t care who we got in the draw, just wanted the opportunity to play
Fille our hearts with joy, we could look forward and be excited
In spite of losing on the night, our hopeful optimism couldn’t be blighted

When the draw was made, we never drew Chelsea
Drew a familiar team, with a very distinctive style of play
A team that deserved the highest respect, it has to be said
But also a team we’d beaten before, and put their chances to bed
The mighty Barcelona now stood in our way
Of earning a historic opportunity, in the quarter finals to play

Wee Strachan had done something no Celtic manager had done before
Two knockout stages in a row, secured his place in the clubs folklore
Looked forward to the challenge the tournament favourites would present
We weren’t very scared, our spirit of resilience simply couldn’t be bent

Manchester – The last stand

Our performances the previous season saw us mix it with the best
Eventually going out to Barcelona after a monumental test
Showed the world we deserved our place, fighting for glory
Ready to do it all again adding to our history and story

For the second consecutive season, we’d play against the current holders
We weren’t very scared, just made us ambitious and bolder
The draw had been kind, fortune had favoured the brave
An achievable path to the knockouts on paper it had paved

Manchester United, the Champions and a European giant
Had a recent victory against them, planned to give them a fright
‘El Submarino Almarillo’ or Villareal, a team with whom we had a past
Ready to steamroller them, ready to give them a blast
The last team on the list Aalborg, the bottom seeds of the group
A chance of six points upon which we intended to swoop

Started the campaign confident, on the verge of vainglorious
Our hopes diminished as rapidly as Oscar Pistorious
Paradise rocked and rumbled when the story commenced
Against the weakest team in the group we couldn’t breach their defence
Had to settle for a point in a game where we should have taken three
Had to give them credit, as stubborn as an old oak tree

Set us off on the wrong foot for a really tough game
Had lost at El Madrigal before, had to deal with more of the same
The match was far more even, our performance much more mature
Showed more confidence and swagger and were much less demure

Got ourselves to the last quarter with the match in the balance
Before Sennas free kick put Boruc in all sorts of strife, denting our challenge
A deserved point had arguably been snatched from our grasp
Needed to learn to be more clinical, to strike as viciously as an asp

Our shyness in front of goal was going to bite us on the arse
Against the holders at the theatre of dreams it could turn into a farce
Too early to give up, with twelve points still up for a reward
We had to up our game, we had to make sure that we scored
Once we did, we had to make sure that our priority was a clean sheet
Another defeat would ruin our chances, and make us sob and greet

The destination meant we were in for a cheap trip
Could bundle on the megabus, get wrecked and let it rip
Me, Bru, James, Damo and Franny Bhoy
Ready to party and fill our hearts full of joy

My tipple for the trip was a bottle of Southern Comfort
Drinking it straight out the bottle like an accomplished expert
Not the brightest of ideas when you’ve a long day ahead
The kind of behaviour that guarantees you’ll be early to bed

The journey itself, timewise the equivalent of half a shift
If you plan to make it without blacking out you need to show some thrift
Need to pace yourself, and make your drinks last
Or any chances of remembering shit will be left in the past

The bus was full of the Celtic faithful, on a hopeful voyage
Ready to rock, and rumble, and participate in carnage
From discussions that we had most were on a sticky wicket
In the sense that for the match they were missing a ticket
We were realistic, appreciative it would be difficult to achieve
Frannys Manchester family were still trying, left us clinging to belief

Four hours later touched down at our destination
Arrived present and correct and Piccadilly station
After a long a tiring journey some of us were famished
James appeared swiftly, a sandwich he brandished

Once settled, made our way towards our home base
Frannys family would provide us with a safe resting place
Situated on the verge, on the outskirts of the city
In the middle of suburbia, quintessentially tranquil and pretty

Franny done the courtesy of performing the introductions
The state we were in turned out a bit of a ruction
Pleasantly welcomed as guests in their home
Time for us to see the sights, to get out and roam
Headed back into Manchester city centre
To mingle with the travelling hoops, and continue our bender

Bouncing drunkenly along the road, startled with a wonderful surprise
Was it really who we thought it was? Couldn’t believe our eyes
Two of the most famous ever Celts sitting outside a bar
Right in front of us, in the scope of our radar

Tommy Gemmell, he once roared like a lion
Scored the first goal in Lisbon, a man you can rely on
Our opponents on the day, were famous and revered
We were some team back then, there was no one we feared

They’d won the trophy twice during an amazing run
Beat whoever was put in front of them, winning games for fun
Lost only one game in the tournament in four successive seasons
But we had hope and we had optimism as they’d given us every reason

The only team who’d beat them were the Los Blancos of Madrid
We weren’t very scared, no one would stand in the way of our bid
Known as Il Biscione, translated as the big grass snake
Inter simply couldn’t cope with us, refused to give them a break

Over forty shots on goal, whilst they had only five
Big Tommys goal brought us back into it, kept our chances alive
The second goal went in with only six minutes to go
Got our just reward for being brave and going toe to toe

My Uncle Tony was in the crowd that day
He’s always with us, he’ll never go away
As far as we’re concerned he’s the twelfth lion of Lisbon
The tradition of following Celtic carried on by his proud sons
Our most famous win ever set the seal on a magnificent season
We’d done a clean sweep of five trophies, an unrivalled completion

The bold Tommy was sitting with Dixie Deans, another Celtic hero
Having him in the team meant it was unlikely we would score zero
Struck six goals against Thistle in the same game
A post war record made him a household name

The quality of the keeper was unquestionable, it was big Alan Rough
Scottish international who putting one past was tough
Our Dixie managed to put one past him six times
In a performance that was unquestionably, Indubitably sublime

The only player in Scotland to score a hat trick in two cup finals
Made the Hibs fans cry, with finishing that was primal
Secured the Scottish cup in seventy two, the league cup in seventy four
Yet only capped twice for Scotland, surely deserving of more

He also played in a famous game against the giants of Inter Milan
The semi final of the European Cup in seventy two, we were very closely ran
After a two hundred and ten minutes of football
Neither side could manage to carve out a goal

Poor Dixie missed the first of our penalties
Inter scored all five to go through, our rivals and enemies
Just shows the quality of our side back in the day
At the business end of Euro cups, we were constantly playing

He ended up with a pub of his name in Rutherglen
A place that is home to many fine young men
He met Bob Marley in Australia, confirmed he’s a hoops fan
A world famous icon, the original rastaman!

Asked them politely if they would give us a quick picture
Happy to oblige, Damo and Franny jumped round the back
An image that would make a cracking framed fixture
As well as another Euro memory to add to the stack

Left the two heroes and legends, headed on our way
Didn’t want to disturb them too much, or our welcome overstay
Wandered towards the Trafford Centre to see what was going down
In the centre of this world famous Lancashire town

Where conversations that changed history are known to have taken place
Where Marx and Engels plotted to change the course of the human race
Chetham library, with its famous alcove at the reading room
Frequented by these icons trying to save the proletariat from doom

Today it stands in glory as one of the few remaining medieval sites
With a book collection that would have other libraries completely bang to rights
Contains first editions of Newtons Principia Mathematica and Miltons Paradise Lost
Could be described as priceless – I wonder how much they’d cost?

By this point my booze was dwindling, my bottle was nearly done
I was three sheets to the wind and I was having lots of fun
Given my inebriated state, from that point I don’t remember much
With reality, it has to be said, I was completely losing touch

Back to Frannys Aunties to find out if we had tickets
No joy, we’d been unfortunate, would have to go to the pub and kick it
As the match approached we headed to the local
Had been assured we’d get no trouble and had free licence to be vocal
Not the first time on a trip consigned to watching the game in the pub
Against Blackburn, and Liverpool of the green we’d had the rub

I’ll give a quick match report before covering other events
An eventful trip to say the least, our energy was spent
It was us who went close first, a twenty yarder from McGeady
Tested Van der Sar but his save was pretty steady

They took the lead on half an hour, with a very contentious goal
O’Shea crossed in and Berbatov scored, a man who was on a roll
He was clearly miles offside by anybodys standards
The linesman and ref weren’t looking and their minds had wandered

Doubled their lead just after half time, again questions were raised
Began to think the officials had been bribed and had been paid
Ronaldo hit a long range shout, Boruc palmed to Berbatov
Turned in the rebound expertly, he was as dangerous as a Molotov

Offside seemed to be a rule that wasn’t being applied to them
Ironically Rooney scored minutes later, inside old Trafford there was joy and mayhem
This time the whistle blew for offside, another debatable decision
We were more than happy to take it, whilst Rooney felt derision

With a quarter of an hour left, we were left down and out
Rooney finally got his goal, and chance to scream and shout
Scored a cracker on the turn from roughly twenty yards
To late for us to come back or as the French say ‘Trop Tard’

Although we’d battled hard, we were comfortably outplayed
United had moved ominously into first gear with a cracking display
We’d get our chance for revenge a couple of weeks down the line
If we were going to take anything we’d need a performance that was sublime

The result that night was overshadowed by other events, paled into insignificance
A sinister event we’ll never forget, a catastrophic incidence
Our James was dared to drink a truly lethal concoction
A pint filled with a wide array of powerful alcoholic toxins
I think the term that’s commonly used is a ‘dirty point’
Tanned it back in the wanner, left him facing a terrible plight

Not long after he polished off he became flaccid and floppy
The waters lying ahead of him were dangerous and choppy
Tried to get him to respond by giving him a shake
It was no use, he was unresponsive and simply wouldn’t wake

Although we were pished, we realised the gravity of the situation
Gravely worried by his lack of consciousness and prostration
Only course of action was to get him to a hospital
Had to do our bit to make sure to alcohol poisoning he didn’t fall
I can’t remember any of this, can’t remember a thing
For all the use I was in that state, would have been as well putting me in a bin

The next thing I remember was waking up in Frannys Aunts
Hoping for some breakfast, perhaps a cheeky wee croissant
When I looked around all I seen were worried faces
I began to worry too, felt my heart instantly start to race
The situation was explained I was brought up to speed
We wouldn’t be heading back as planned, to stay there was a need

A taxi to the hospital to be by our buddys side
Couldn’t have been far away as it was a pretty short ride
They had given us the family room – made the situation feel serious
When realising the gravity of the situation – made me start to pray to Jesus

The Doctor took us aside, said his chances of survival were balanced on a knife
Who would have thought a senseless dare could have caused so much strife
Our Bhoy Jamesy was laid up in intensive care
All we could do was wait around so if he woke up we’d be there

Dived up to the pub to grab a few, and get some lunch in our bellys
The situation was made worse when we seen the game highlights on the telly
When we arrived back at the hospital we received some positive good news
Doctor said he was going to make it, this obliterated our blues

I can’t begin to describe how it felt to find out he was going to be okay
That he would be carted safely up the road to fight another day
As always our PJ was on hand to help out, despite not being there
Agreed to drive all the way down to pick him up, never even took a fare
He really is one of the best, he’s eternally altruistic
Would do anything for anyone, he’s absolutely terrific

By the time they were picked up it was getting pretty late
We made our way to Piccadilly station, hoping to catch the train at its gate
Although there was still one train on the night left
Our hopes were dashed, told it was full, our hopes became bereft

An all-nighter in the station became our harsh reality
We’d have to wait until half past five to get a train to take us on our way
Luckily for us the Sainsburys was still open
We needed a booze to get us through, we were absolutely choking
We stocked up as if the world was ending, as if we were panic buying
Right to do so as running out during the night would have left us crying

Although it wasn’t planned that way, ended up a cracking night
Full of laughter and hilarity, and genuinely hilarious sights
Remember asking where Franny was, he’d suddenly disappeared
Thankfully he hadn’t been kidnapped as we had feared
Found him sprawled out on a bench, trying to go for a kip
That’s why he’d sneaked off and tried to give us the slip

Got the first train as we planned, we’d soon be up the road
As usual lots to talk about, lots of stories to be told
As we pulled into Glasgow Central, had to call my boss in work
Explained to her the situation in which we’d found ourselves stuck
She was a good sort, and told me to go home to my bed
Definitely needed a good rest it has to be said

Finishing this poem is a monumental milestone
It marks the end of the stories of when in Europe we roamed
Its been a rollercoaster, its been an absolute ball
Who knows – one day in the future I might once again answer the call

It would be great to be given an opportunity to add to these stories
And even better if some of the results involved away day glory
There’s not a club like us in the world – a history so rich in epic tales
Of the Glasgow Celtic family, and the Glasgow Celtic way!