A View From The Back of Beyond

A tremendous night was had in Wellington, New Zealand, as Tims from that remotest of southern outposts (and beyond) gathered at the Black Harp bar in the city centre to follow the last Sunday’s Old Firm match live. It was the first such occasion that Wellington-based supporters could gather to watch a live Celtic fixture in the relative comfort of a bar. Just getting live coverage at all, even if that has meant just a couple of times a year, has proven to be something of an expensive ordeal for those of us unfortunate to live oooooh…. just the 12,000 or so miles outside of shouting distance to Paradise.

The NZCSC is alive and well in Auckland, and has been for some 20 years now, and although ESPN’s much taken for granted live coverage of the SPL ended in 2004 (that channel available on the SkyNZ platform), the Auckland members have enjoyed pretty much uninterrupted live coverage courtesy of a ‘Celtic Live’ broadband feed ever since. Due in the main to lack of numbers - or so we thought - and therefore the lack of a regular venue, the Wellington end of the NZCSC had not been so lucky.

Until a few weeks back that is, when a particularly proactive Irish bar manager, one Dermot Murphy, arranged for the Setanta feed to be hooked up at the Black Harp. Cue Monday night gatherings for assorted interested folk - a large majority of whom are of the Tim variety - replaying any given fixture from the previous weekend. In terms of live coverage, last weekend’s Ibrox fixture was the first venture of its type and the response was exceptional. My own conservative guesstimate would have some 60-75 fans in attendance, Tims outnumbering Huns by around three to one. Certainly in terms of making noise, the green-and-white-clad attendees had it all over the subdued Bears to such a degree, it was almost as though the Celts were playing at home.

Pretty much mirroring what happened on the pitch then, as it would transpire.

It was a bitterly cold and extremely wet night in Wellington, the “windy city” living up to her name as the fresh wintery blasts direct from the Antarctic ensured any brave soul venturing to the Harp knew they were alive and kicking upon arrival. Familiar faces from past Monday night gatherings and occasional acquaintances from the distant past mixed freely with many new faces present specifically for this occasion - a couple of older Huns from East Kilbride, a group of four hardy lads who travelled across land and sea together, all the way up from Christchurch in the South Island (two Tims and two Huns - go figure that one), and of course our now familiar rogue Hibee - something of a natural pet in these parts - was also on hand to moan bitterly about all and sundry to anyone who would listen. Not that anyone was, but we like his company anyway, he sure helps put things into perspective for us!

So to the match itself (an 11.30pm kick-off in this part of the world). To be two goals to the good and completely on top with just over half an hour gone was better than any of us could have realistically expected (the expectations of those of the Hun persuasion notwithstanding). Both goals were instantly memorable efforts, Agathe’s pace and cross for Petrov’s opener a revelation for those who might have insisted we haven’t been missing him, and Bellamy’s pearler yet another fine example of precisely why every effort must be made to sign this man.

I was fortunate enough (in this case) to be standing within earshot of one of the aforesaid ex-East Kilbride bluenoses and his stock standard response to much of the action throughout the match was a surprisingly very restrained “oh dearie dearie me” at regular five to ten minute intervals for the entirety of its 90-minute duration. I suggested to him early on that it was us (Celtic) who looked like we were playing at home and he could only nod his head in brooding and contemplative agreement. Said individual would prove to be the source of much quiet inspiration and personal smug enjoyment for yours truly over the course of the night.

The longer the match wore on, the more the Huns started to come into it, but crucially, Celtic were able to maintain their grip on the midfield, Stan Petrov enjoying his best Ibrox performance yet. When Rangers did ultimately pull one back in dying moments it was another case of too little, too late, and Celtic had all but wrapped up their fourth SPL title in five years under Martin O’Neill.

I’m not sure what to make of the bookings handed out to Petrov and Bellamy upon scoring their respective goals; we can only wonder what sort of treatment any Rangers player celebrating in front of the Celtic Legions would have received. As for the missile incident(s), it is amazing what you miss watching amid all the hustle and bustle of a crowded bar. In past years when ESPN have provided live coverage of these games directly into my lounge (the four years 2000-2004) it was generally a helluva lot easier to keep track of each and every incident taking place. Yet for all that you miss when surrounded by many other like-minded distractions at that time of the morning, it was great to finally be celebrating one of these precious wins amongst friends (and even sweeter too to be able to see close-up and personal the misery and gene-afflicted coupon of the odd enemy or two).

To a Glasgow or thereabouts-based supporter it may seem something of a curious oddity for Celtic and Rangers supporters to stand alongside one another in a crowded bar thousands of miles away from where the action is taking place, and for there to be not a hint of trouble, but there you go, it is possible - if not always pleasant. As for the songs, well, with the Celts outnumbering the Huns and overall having more to sing about on the night, we were able to drown out with considerable ease their one attempt at what might be perceived to be a sectarian ditty. As for our own wholly political scoffing of the Queen of England, well, you’ll get no comment from me on that one.

The next gathering for Wellington-based Tims for live football is almost certain to be the occasion of the Scottish Cup Final. With no Setanta coverage of this event, it will be a return to the St Patrick’s College multimedia room for an internet feed during the wee smalls sometime late in May. I’ve a sneaky feeling - hey, just call it a wild and crazy hunch - that we won’t be joined by any of our new-found friends in blue for this one.



It was around 2am on a damp and dismal Monday morning as we left the warm comfort of the Black Harp and staggered out on to Wellington’s deserted and freshly-showered streets. Happy beyond any sense of real proportion and with throats duly lubricated, we danced in the puddles and let the rest of the nonchalant world know exactly how it felt to be back on top of the league…for a couple of us it would be 9am before we made it home, for others, such as the lads up from Christchurch, it would be even later still…

Well done to all involved, all credit to the Black Harp for having the balls to pick up Setanta (and therefore exclusive rights in Wellington), but most of all, cheers Celtic for making it all worthwhile by way of the sweet and very timely result.

Kiwi Mick.