Supporting Celtic isn’t a hobby, a pass time, something you can switch off from. When you buy-in, it inexplicably becomes an intrinsic part of your life. An emotional attachment to an intangible that’s difficult to explain to someone who isn’t living it themselves.
The memories we make on the terraces; the good and the bad are so closely linked to our psyche. Making the pilgrimage to Celtic Park with friends and family might seem like nothing on any given Saturday, but as you get older, those memories are everything.
On September 7th 2022, I lost the man who introduced me to it all, my father passed away suddenly – well before his time. As I write the words down, I’m second guessing whether I should even write this piece. It’s still very raw. But if you would indulge me, I’d like to pay tribute to the man who gave me Celtic.
My earliest memories are of going to Celtic Park with my Dad. Parking at the Forge, he would make me get out with the scarves at the corner so he could go park at the bingo which had no attendant [an old school cheat to get a space on match days]. Walking up to the stadium he’d turn me into a walking corner shop with snacks and drinks to sneak in because he wasn’t paying THOSE prices inside the ground.
Having three other siblings, football was my time with my Dad. A place where at first, I remember just enjoying having that one to one time with him while the football was secondary.
Introducing your son to Celtic in the mid 90s must have been a tough gig. We were on our knees both on and off the pitch. However, watching Tommy Burns’ side play football was always entertaining. I remember dribs and drabs from that season, but it was the 97/98 season I really do recall my first proper Celtic memories that still live with me today. Celtic vs Rangers 1997 at Celtic Park; The Hoops were toiling again, losing 1-0 to their old rivals who were in their 10 in a row season. Andy Goram was putting on another goalkeeping clinic and Wim Jansen’s side were about to slip six points behind them in the league. I remember my Dad being angry and upset, it’s the first time I recall seeing his emotions get the best of him at the football. On the 90th minute, he took me from my seat and brought me down to the entrance to the stand, so we could make a quick getaway at full time. Celtic put a corner in and it was cleared away initially, I still vividly remember my Dad turning to me and saying ‘I’ve had enough, we’re not coming back’. As a kid, you take those sorts of arbitrary threats literally and in that moment I was gutted. Low and behold, the ball goes back into the box and I remember Alan Stubbs rising up and heading home an equaliser to send the whole stadium into meltdown. My dad picked me up and was throwing me about, while fans round me were going nuts. Alan Stubbs had saved the day! I could come back to Celtic Park.
At the end of that season, we’d be back in our seats on the final day needing Celtic to win against St Johnstone to stop ten in a row. By that time, it was well drilled into me why Rangers winning ten was such an abhorrent thought. Celtic had passed up the chance to win the league the week before and having not seen Celtic lift the league title in my first nine years on earth, I didn’t know what to expect. There were fans skipping into the game without a ticket and the stands were bulging. When Henrik Larsson scored a fantastic early goal right in front of us, there was a surge of fans from behind falling over, my dad had to shelter me from it as more people fell over around me. It was madness, and a little scary at the time. The rest of the game would be anxiety inducing with the game still sitting at 1-0. If St Johnstone grabbed an equaliser, we were done for. Enter Harold Brattback, his goal in the second half sent Celtic Park into ecstasy. Soon after, a helicopter carrying the old SPL trophy flew over the stadium to another rousing cheer. As we waited on the final whistle my dad had already picked me up. Tom Boyd was about to take a free kick when the referee picked up the ball and pointed to the tunnel, the game was over! Grown men, including my Dad, hugging and tearing up as Celtic won their first title in ten seasons, four years after our doors were nearly closed. Somewhere along that season, the passion and emotion my dad had shown throughout the campaign had rubbed off on me, and it’s a feeling I’ve never been able to shake [not that I’d want to].
We watched Henrik together in his peak, saw Martin O’Neill deliver Celtic’s first treble since Jock Stein and that memorable run to Seville. As I got older and my dad had to work during games, I would still get to go to the football, my sisters would be tasked with taking me until I was old enough and when I was, I took my little brother who also exhibits the same signs of Celtic fandom my dad had passed down to me.
Throughout the years, we’d go to games together whenever he could. Nowadays I head to Celtic Park with my brother, brother-in-law and nephew.
As he got older, me and him would get into very heated debates about the team and the direction of the club and team on the pitch. He knew best and so did I!
Celtic was the thing that bonded us together above all else. I know so many will relate to their dad phoning them up, not asking them how they’re doing but sparking up a conversation about that ‘imposter’ *insert whipping bhoy of the day’. I remember talking him down from his position last season when Ange came in and the team were stuttering, to smugly telling him ‘told you so’ when we lifted the league title.
All the memories we made and I cherished while he was still here take on greater significance now he’s passed away. They aren’t just memories, they are my dad. They’re everything I loved about him and the platform he’s given me and my siblings to pass onto the next generation. My nephews are already well on their way to having the same sort of irrational attachment to this football club.
I will become a father myself in November when my wife and I welcome a baby boy into the world. While it’s painful the two will never meet, my dad’s influence on my son will be through our relationship and trips to Celtic Park as we move down the years. Creating new memories and telling him about the times I’ve shared in this article.
Thank You Dad, for giving me Celtic.
If I could leave you with his final social media post after watching his very last Celtic game [Celtic 4-0 Rangers].
‘A f**king Doing’
He wasn’t wrong.
A fitting tribute to the loss of your father in which we as sons fathers and indeed grandfathers will relate too, as the years go past and the years ahead get fewer we can relax in the knowledge our children and grandchildren will carry on the work not just our fathers but our parents left us to to pass on safe in the knowledge that we passed the mantle on successfully to the next generations
Don’t know how old your Dad was when he passed son , but I reckon your piece on him would do him proud . There’s a lot me in your old man . Very well written 🇮🇪🇮🇪
brought a tear to my eye mate. i’m sure your dad would be very proud. this is more than a football club, it’s a way of life – and it’s our responsibility to make sure our traditions and history is passed down from generation to generation. let the people sing…..
Excellent my friend. Amazing.
‘ At the end of that season, we’d be back in our seats on the final day needing Celtic to win against St Johnstone to stop ten in a row.’
I took my Father to the above game, never realising that it was to be the last time he would set foot in Celtic Park.
I am eternally grateful to him for bringing up to be a Celtic supporter.
My Son and Grandson now represent our Family at Paradise.
Loved reading your story Craig and God Bless Your Da.
I couldn’t helped thinking about my late Brother in law Gerry he took me to the games and its always been a family and community affair watching the Celtic for me. My son sits with my Nephew and Great Nephew. I sit with them when a spare is available. Unfortunately, I don’t get to sit with my Bhoys as much as I want at the games but reading this article will make me treasure the times I do even more. Hail Hail
Brilliant story mate. Love the Celtic family. You are a lucky bhoy. You will do the same for your wee bhoy. Hail hail
Superb eulogy for yer da, Craig. If there’s a heaven it’ll be green N white an yer auld man will be watching the greats that have passed. Rest In Peace 🍀
I am welling up here, An excellent piece of writing. I never had that bond with my Father as he disliked Celtic & Rangers with equal measure. He hated sectarianism so never encouraged it. My Uncle took me (with his blessing) But my pride comes from taking my bhoys, They both got it, It truly is a magical connection.
Beautiful story and tribute to your Dad Craig. I remember you both coming back from the football, buzzing when we won, the excitement on both your faces, so infectious. Love to you and the family, your dad will be sadly missed.