9th March 2025. Celtic Park, Glasgow.
“Trying hard to feed her little starlings
Unconsciously she clips their little wings” – Michael Marra, Mother Glasgow.
“Football is nothing without fans” – Jock Stein.
The warm sunny afternoon in Culter last August is starting to feel like a very long time ago as we reach what pundits call the “business end” of the competition. A curious term to use about a football tournament, given that the only other context I have heard it was in relation to the end of a cow that does the fertilising. Anyway, to the business that we are almost at the end of …
With Rangers out, the securing of tickets for remaining matches seems like it might get a little easier – and the last eight still has two sides from outside the top tier, in Livi and Queen’s Park. Great to see, but my journey now takes me to the biggest of them all, Celtic at Celtic Park.
Getting a ticket was a minor faff, Hibs sold their allocation and were given more, but were still not able to sell me one digitally, so I had a nail biting wait for the general sale for the Celtic end. Brief secured and I was on my way.
The ride was a glorious one, on a fine spring day, over the “Tak me Doon” road and picking up the canal at Auchinstarry (and a terrible scone at the Boat House), and on into Glasgow. You seem to go from remote single track, forded streams and not much of anything but fields into Glasgow’s urban sprawl in a few short turns of the wheel. The Forth and Clyde canal is a terrific resource for cyclists – carrying you traffic free into and between the central belt’s centres with a minimum of fuss. So lucky to have it, kudos to John Smeaton, good work sir.
Arriving at Celtic Park, you do have sense of history, the statues of their greats, notably Billy McNeill and Jimmy Johnstone, imposing against the blue (ironically) sky. It’s all very impressive. I make my way to my seat for a bite to eat and to watch the atmosphere build. Staff very helpful, including managed storage for the bike, that was great too. A pie and bovril, and water, comes to £9, with my ticket, the day out is £35 and while it is a lot more than Culter, it’s a much bigger show.
I’m in a group of mates, one of whom doesn’t do cup matches, so I’m in his seat. We chat and I explain why I’m here.
“Ah, yer no a Celtic man?”
“So, what ur ye?”
Stirling Albion seemed to confuse him a tad, but fellow was happy to share his thoughts. I was enjoying watching Daizen Maeda and was told that “he’s fast as fuck, but he cannae make a 5 yard pass”, right on cue he misses a sitter. “See, that’s Maeda!”. The other strong theme is that refs never give Celtic a decision , frequent howls of derision are poured on the ref for missing fouls, hand balls and all manner of other misdemeanours. Not sure I see it. Celtic have won almost everything in the Scottish game for nigh on 15 years and are the most successful club in the country. If the refs are agin them, they are not doing a very good job.
Hibs fans are in good voice and can be heard chanting familiar vitriol towards Dundee and Hearts, but also a glorious jibe at their hosts – “If it wisnae for the Hibees, you’d be Huns”, a reference to Hibs being formed in 1875, Celtic 13 years later, so they can reasonably argue to be the first Irish community club, albeit in Edinburgh. The team, however, are barely in Celtic’s half and Maeda scores on 39 mins, cue sing-a-long to The Champs 1958 hit ‘Tequila‘, with ‘Maeda’ replacing ‘tequila’ at the key moment, it’s pretty funny.
Hibs put up some resistance in the second half, but never troubled Kasper Schmeichel. While some of Celtic’s football was sublime, lovely to watch, they toiled a little to kill Hibs off and it wasn’t until the Celtic faithful were drifting to the exits (which began with 10 mins still to play) and the sun drifting over the Jock Stein stand that Adam Idah deftly added a second to seal the win. Hard to imagine this was the same Hibs that beat Celtic in the league barely two weeks previous, the win was never in serious doubt. Celtic good for their place, and are in the hat for the semi final and I say a fond farewell to Hibs, leaving them chasing a top three league finish.
Rumours of ‘hot balls’ and fixed draws abound in the Scottish game, something I’ve never taken very seriously, but if you’d asked me who the SFA might want in the Scottish Cup final, I’d guess Celtic and Hearts. So, of course, they are apart in the semis and I can look forward to St. Johnstone and Celtic at Hampden next up. Saints have won every round this far by the same 1-0 scoreline. Same again would be the stuff of dreams.
Anyway, for Celtic I was reliably advised that pre-match drinks should be taken at the Hielan Jessie on the Gallowgate, one of many Celtic-inclined pubs on the way east. It was packed and as I locked the steed at the railings outside, a passing gent informed me that it was likely to be stolen. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but I decided to move on anyway and instead refreshed myself after the game at The Oak, a proper boozer on Springfield Road. An excellent pint and a wee chat with a regular. He remembered fondly the days when the pub would shut at 2:30pm, everyone would go to the game, and be back for reopening at 5. And most would have a carry out with them in the ground.
“You must have seen some classic games?” , I asked.
“No really, ah was just there for the drinking”.
Quite how the fellow had reached the ripe old age that he had done is something of a mystery to me.
My only disappointment was that there was no rendition of You’ll Never Walk Alone, nor did Hibs manage Sunshine on Leith. Not sure why, but we did get Fields of Athenry, which never fails to move.
Scottish Cup, 2024-25:
Matches: 8
Goals: 23
Total miles cycled: 212.34
Pies: 5
Grounds visited: 7
In the Hat 
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