As the Eufa cup final draws ever closer I find myself thinking back on great Euro nights in the past. I recall, with great fondness, the Euro final in ' 67. I was only  a kid but had the awareness to know something special was happening that night in Lisbon. I watched it with my Da on an old black and white telly that was on tick, and jumped out of my skin everytime he roared, "bastard!" as Sarti made another unbelievable save . The tension in the room was palpable and then the release of relief as we scored and then joy as we went in front.The grainy figures on tv went mental and  I knew Inter had nothing left and we would win. The houses on the street emptied out as the final whistle sounded and we had won the cup. I was taken along to Parkhead  when the Lions returned to show off the trophy and watched, somewhat bewildered, as grown men wept with joy.I was hoisted up by my Da as they passed around the track, led by an Irish flute band, and was told to " look and remember, you saw the Lisbon Lions" . Small kids were being held aloft by men they did not know to see their heroes, but no-one minded we were all family that night, the Celtic family. The Lions and their achievements gave us a sense of pride and identity and that night I thought I'd burst.
   The following season we made an early exit at the hands of the other Milan team after a good result in Italy and we spat their scorer's name with disdain, Prati, for he had ended our dream for that season. It was only a short delay as in 1970 we again made the final. Along the way we beat the much vaunted Leeds in a thriller at Hampden. I could see the stadium from where I lived and when an almighty roar went up we knew there was only one thing that would cause such a noise , laughing as we ran indoors to await the highlights.My Da and me watched the final in disbelief as the journeymen of Feyenoord triumphed, shrieking for Caeser to get it as the ball was lofted over his head for Kindvall to score the winner. The disappointment of defeat was overwhelming but we figured there would be other finals to win.
   I followed Celtic throughout the decade to mixed fortunes. I emigrated at the end of the 70s and was not there to see Celtic eclipsed by the Huns. Anywhere we could find a short-wave you would find me , and fellow Tims, huddled around for news of our team. Short trips home were filled with games, tours and merchandise along with dreams of Europe.
     And now , after 33 yrs , we've made another Euro final. Barring a miracle, I will not be there. The scarcity of tickets has caused a scramble that has turned Tim against Tim and I am nowhere in the mix, and that is how it should be. Unlike other supporters I will not travel to Seville without a ticket as I could not bear to be so close and yet be unable to gain entry.We may be underdogs but are we any more unfancied than the ' 67 Celtic team was, or Feyenoord in ' 70. Like many Tims I will be watching from afar but I'll be kicking every ball with the same tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach as I did as a kid all those years ago.
                                                                           
                                                         Tommy......a supporter.

Excellent Tommy, have a lump in my throat remembering those heady days.  I
made my debut at Parkheid the night we came back with the cup, I was on the
park in front of the jungle staring at the heavens thanking the Lord as the
Coatbrig Harp Band waltzed around the track.  The following year we went out
to the Ruskies and the year after that I was in Toronto when a big Billy
blunder let Satri through after we had done the hard bit in the San Siro
(spit).  Back hame living again in 1970 with two wee weans and just after
buying a house the mother of the same weans went into her piggy bank and
paid my way to Milan, however another Billy blunder when he punched the ball
over Evan Williams head left us disapointed but not despondent, we were a
top European team and we knew would would be back, however, a missed
penalty, again after the difficult bit had been done, and then some Spanish
thuggery took care of that.  The summer our NIAR was ended, big Billy
retired, wee Jinky, Jim Brogan and Bobby Lennox left the club (temporarily
for the Buzz Bomb) and big Jock nearly lost his life, I left the Bonnie
Banks for the great white north once again and like you Tommy lying under
the bed listening to the short wave for news of the bhoys until Tom
Donnelly, Jackie Meehan and the rest of the North American lhads made it
possible for me to once more follow the bhoys up close.  They also made it
possible for myself and a lot of my contemporaries to become a now a
shareholder and through this medium I am on right now I am as much in touch
with the Celts as I was pre-75.

A lot of water has went under the bridge since the San Siro and 33 years
later we are once again a well known if not top Euro side.  I won't be in
Seville, I don't grudge those who will, if I had the opportunity though I
would go to Seville, ticket or no'.  5 years ago I had to rush home in an
emergency and was there when the dreaded TIAR was ended, that night I wept
like a wean as I witnessed the joy and relief on fellow Tims faces, it could
have backfired on me though as it could have easily gone the other way, it
didn't and I once more thanked the Lord as I walked down the streets of the
wee village I grew up in that night.  So those who are heading over to the
continent treasure the moment as if it's your last, and God willing it
isn't.