1967

"There is not a prouder man on God's Earth than me at this moment. Winning was important, aye, but it was the way that we have won that has filled me with satisfaction. We did it by playing football. Pure, beautiful, inventive football. There was not a negative thought in our heads. Inter played right into our hands; it's so sad to see such gifted players shackled by a system that restricts their freedom to think and to act. Our fans would never accept that sort of sterile approach. Our objective is always to try to win with style."


"Coming out the tunnel Bertie Auld started singing "The Celtic Song" and we all joined in. The Italian team who were coming out alongside us looked at us as if to say, "Who the hell's this we're playing today?"




Monday 26 May 1997

Memories of the day 'Wee Jinky' got his teeth into the European Cup
By Robert Philip



Lisbon, May 25, 1967: In the sweltering underground tunnel connecting the dressing-rooms with the steep flight of steps leading up to the pitch and a cloudless late-afternoon sky, the players of Internazionale and Glasgow Celtic eye one another guardedly before taking the field for the European Cup final . . .


"THERE they were," recalls Jimmy Johnstone, 5ft 5 of flame-haired football wizardry, "Facchetti, Domenghini, Mazzola, Cappellini; all six-footers wi'
Ambre Solaire suntans, Colgate smiles and sleek-backed hair. Each and every wan o' them looked like yon film star Cesar Romero. They even smelt beautiful. And there's us lot - midgets. Ah've got nae teeth, Bobby Lennox hasnae any, and old Ronnie Simpson's got the full monty, nae teeth top an' bottom. The Italians are staring doon at us an' we're grinnin' back up at 'em wi' our great gumsy grins. We must have looked like something out o' the circus."

Clowns they are not, however, and the memory of the drama which unfolds over the subsequent 90 minutes can still send the heart soaring: Internazionale, twice European Cup winners, twice World Club Champions, Italian champions three times in four years, and the supreme masters of suffocating defensive tactics are ripped apart by a team of relative unknowns magically blended together into an irresistible attacking force by Jock Stein.

"Big Jock always said we'd win but I thought we'd get a gubbin', to be honest."

Three decades on, the Lisbon Lions as they were to be immortalised, are preparing to fly to Las Vegas next month as guests of the North American Celtic Supporters' Club to celebrate the 30th anniversary of becoming the first British club to win the European Cup; for although the boys of summer have matured into grandfathers, tales of their exhilarating 2-1 victory over Internazionale will be told and retold whenever and wherever football people meet.

The bald statistics show that mighty Internazionale, who opened the scoring via a Sandro Mazzola penalty after eight minutes before erecting an 11-man defence, did not win a single corner and forced goalkeeper Simpson (who wrapped the aforementioned three sets of false teeth in his bunnet 'so we'd look nice in the photies if we won') to make but one save; Celtic had two shots off the crossbar, and 49 other attempts on goal, 13 of which were saved by Italian goalkeeper Sarti, 17 were blocked or deflected, and a mere 19 delivered off-target.

"We kept asking one another 'when are these ******* gonna to start playing'?" continued Johnstone, whose meandering touchline runs earned him the nickname 'Wee Jinky'. "I think that's why there's still so much genuine affection for the Lions. No-one really expected us to win. The Italians were
the best money could buy. The Celtic team - all 11 of us - were born with a 50-mile radius across central Scotland. Now, that'll never happen again, will it? I think we took them by surprise because our free-flowing style was unique. We were like the Dutch speeded up and they'd never played against
anything like us."

It befell the hapless Burgnich to trail Johnstone across the length and breadth of the field as Celtic, with second-half goals from Tommy Gemmell and Steve Chalmers, held millions of television viewers in thrall with their cavalier capers. "Although we were a goal down at half-time we should have been three up. As Big Jock put it in the dressing-room: 'If you're ever going to win the European Cup, this is the day and this is the place. . ."

Johnstone's road to Lisbon had begun among the coalmines of Lanarkshire where his every waking moment as a child revolved round football. Usually he
played 40-a-side with his school chums. When they were sick, he played by himself; when there was no ball he fashioned a round shape 'oot o' rags and
string. Onything ah could kick. . .' At 17, he joined Celtic where he quickly became the most beloved player in the club's history. When Wee Jinky took a pass and set off on a run, his team-mates knew governments would fall before they would see the ball again.


"HE USED to tell me how he wanted the ball presented to him," explains Johnstone's chief supplier, right-half Bobby Murdoch. "You know, whether he wanted it to his feet, played in front of him, with his back to goal, or whatever. 'An' when will I get it back?' I used to say. 'Dunno', he'd grin, 'when ah'm finished wi' it ah suppose'." Opposing full-backs did not sleep nights fretting about the horrors that lay in store. Like Matthews, Garrincha and Finney, Johnstone could dribble full-backs into a
straight-jacket.

"Scotland beat us 2-0 one year," shuddered England's Emlyn Hughes, "and I was embarrassed to come off the pitch. Jimmy Johnstone absolutely crucified me. Alf Ramsey came up and said 'you've just played against a world-class player today. He can do that to anybody'."

Now a recovering alcoholic, Johnstone, like the entire male population of the west of Scotland, 'always liked a drink' as they say in those parts. Stein indulged him to a point, although the errant No 7 invariably felt he
had been electronically tagged every Saturday night. "Ah used to go into pubs where I thought no-one might know me. I mind going into one outside Stirling one time. 'A lager shandy' says I. While the barman still pouring the bluidy thing, the 'phone goes. 'Here, it's for you' he says." In reply to Johnstone's jaunty 'hello' came the familiar sergeant-major's growl. "Get
your arse out of there right now wee man."

"Ah fled. Big Jock had a bigger spy network than the KGB. People talk about his tactical genius, his ability at spotting weaknesses in the opposition an' all that. But his greatest talent was psychology. Footballers are funny animals as you know. He took all our different temperaments and built the best team in the world. He took charge of all our problems. All he wanted was for you to go out on that park and be at your best for 90 minutes. If you'd committed murder he'd get you aff wi' it so long as you were right for
that game."

Never did the Big Man and the Wee Man combine to to better effect than against Red Star Belgrade in the second round of the 1969 European Cup. "We
were being held 0-0 at halftime in the first-leg at Parkhead," smiles Johnstone, "as we were going back out for the second half the boss - who knew ah was terrified, absolutely terrified, of flying - whispers in ma ear. 'If we win by four clear goals, Jinky, you can stay at home in two weeks' time'." For 45 minutes, Johnstone played as if blessed by the Gods. He
scored two goals and manufactured three as Celtic won 5-1.

"The Yugoslav coach pladed wi' big Jock to let the people of Belgrade see me, but the boss was as good as his word. When the rest o' the team flew oot, ah stayed at hame."

Johnstone reserved his most memorable performance for a fitting stage, however. Following their triumph in Lisbon, Celtic were invited to provide the opposition for Alfredo di Stefano's testimonial game in Madrid. "Real don't play friendlies. They'd won the European Cup the year before us in '66 and had never been beaten by a foreign side in the Bernabeu." With Wee Jinky at his most mesmerising, Celtic won 1-0 to the accompanying 'Oles!' of the 125,000 every time he left another defender spinning.

At the post-match banquet, di Stefano asked for a special photograph to be taken of him and his three long-time cohorts, Puskas, Gento and Santamaria,
flanking Wee Jinky in the middle of the quintet. "It was the great man's way of telling Jimmy 'you belong here with us'," says Bobby Lennox, scorer of the winning goal that night. "That was probably my biggest personal triumph," admits Johnstone, "according to rumours Real offered Celtic a blank cheque to sign me. But if they did, big Jock never said a word."

When not making sporting headlines with his sorcery, Wee Jinky's high-jinks after dark led to frequent appearances on the front page, most famously during Scotland's 1974 World Cup preparations in Largs when he was pushed out to sea at three in the morning by person or persons unknown in a tiny rowing boat equipped with one oar. "Me and Denis (Law) decided to go fishing," he told manager Willie Ormond.

"Jimmy couldn't get back in," says former Rangers full-back Sandy Jardine, "but he was singing his head off. He was getting further and further away. Then two players, who shall remain nameless, started to paddle out to get him and the boat had a hole in it and started to sink." Some hours later, Johnstone was finally delivered back to shore by the Largs' coastguard. "Ah coulda done with Gazza in those days to take some o' the heat aff me," laughs the would-be angler.

"Thirty years? It seems like yesterday. There were 10,000 Celtic fans in Lisbon. Most of them drove there in one great motorcade. A lot o' them, so the story goes, never made it hame. Apparently half o' Lisbon's taxi drivers are frae the east end o' Glasgow. We were like brothers; still are. We may
have lost our teeth and our hair, but we'll always be the Lisbon Lions."

Fans' Memories

The spring of 1967 was to be followed by the now famous "SUMMER OF LOVE"  which had its roots in the American city of San Francisco. For one half of
Glasgow though that period will always be remembered for one thing only - Celtic's famous win in Lisbon on the 25th May 1967. It was a wonderful time to be a Celtic supporter. The league cup was already in the bag, thanks to a 1-0 win over Rangers, when the Scottish cup was won at Hampden on the 29th April with a 2-0 win over a good Aberdeen side. The domestic treble was completed on May the 6th at a rain soaked Ibrox when two goals from Jinky Johnstone earned Celtic the point they needed to clinch their second title in a row.  It just could not get any better.or could it?

Jock McAulay, now 71 years young and a life - long Celtic fan, remembers with fondness the greatest period in Celtic's history.

" At that time I was working in Lairds box factory over behind Dalmarnock Road in Bridgeton. The wages were about twelve quid a week and with a family of three to feed the money didn't go very far. I always found enough though to go to watch the Celtic. After all the rubbish we had put up with in the fifties it was like being in heaven and I kept expecting the bubble to burst, but we just kept getting better and better. I thought we had peaked when we got that draw at Ibrox to win the league. For me that was the day we
really became the dominant club in Glasgow. I worked beside a lot of Rangers supporters and they just couldn't handle it. Their thunder had been stolen
and it was making them sick. I remember I was working overtime the day after the league was won at Ibrox and you could have cut the atmosphere with a
knife. In fact there was a bit of a rammy on the shop floor as one from each side lost the nut."

Just before the league decider at Ibrox Celtic had clinched their place in the European cup final with a win over Dukla Prague in the semi - final. This, of course, had been preceded by fine wins over Zurich, Nantes and Vojvodina in the earlier rounds.

Charles McKewan, now resident in Canada, and 20 years old at the time, can still recall the excitement that started to build after that semi - final win.

"There was a real feeling of euphoria that we had cleared that final hurdle. Even though we had lost out narrowly to Liverpool the season before in the Cup - winners cup I just had this feeling that we were going to go all the way this time. I recall that we didn't really start planning on going to the final until we won that semi. The Liverpool experience had left us all a bit wary and it was just a case of wait and see.

"One of my friend's father had an old car, I can't even remember what make it was, and we decided this would be our mode of transport to Lisbon. None of the four of us had ever been abroad before. We all clubbed together and we got a mechanic to check over the car, and to be honest he wasn't too sure it would get us there and back but we were going and that was it! "

Every Celtic fan worth his salt wanted to be in Lisbon for the big game and the stories of how some raised the cash to get there are legend. So too are the tales of the various methods of travel actually used to get to the game. For most, though, it involved travelling by air for the first time and every available seat on chartered and scheduled flights was snapped up as soon as they became available.  The team had a good break before the final and a chance to rest weary limbs after a long, hard, season. This was ideal preparation ahead of the biggest challenge of them all. For once most of the Scottish media were really behind Celtic in their quest for the most glittering prize of all.

It was hard to resist, even for the most hard - bitten of sports journalists, the allure of the breathtaking football being displayed by Stein's team.The European cup had held an almost magical feeling about it for the people of Glasgow ever since Real Madrid had come to town in 1960 and put on a display that is recalled by many today as the greatest game ever played on British soil. So, it was incredibly tantalising to realise that here was a club from a relatively small country on the verge of emulating those great Spaniards who had dominated European football for five years.

Nevertheless, and despite all their fine performances throughout the season, Celtic would go to Lisbon as underdogs.

For Charles McKewan and his friends the actual journey to Lisbon may have been long and arduous but when they finally arrived at their destination they certainly did not feel like they were there to make up the numbers.

"Wisely we had set out early in order to ensure that we could make up any lost time if we hit problems. We got to Lisbon the day before the game after traveling down through France and Spain and it was a relief to get there. Our old car had held out well and we didn't really meet too many problems on the way. We were knackered though by the time we got there after spending so much time cooped up in the car. Lisbon itself was a magical place and even though there was a lot of evident poverty it was a city full of warmth and charm. We set out to find the stadium and when we did it came as something of a shock. It was a queer horseshoe shape with trees growing along the open
end. Compared to Celtic Park though it looked really good in the warm sunshine. There were Celtic fans about everywhere and a really good atmosphere building. I can hardly recall seeing any Inter fans in the build up to the game although they were evident when the game started. We were behind the goal were all the goals were scored into and had a great view of
the game. Of course, our hearts sank when Inter scored but we were playing well and I always felt it was only a matter of time until we scored. Even though, given our great performance, we expected to win, the equaliser and winner still came as a mixed bag of elation and relief. My memory of the final whistle is just a blur as we all hugged and stared at each other in disbelief. Then we were off and on to the park in a vain attempt to get a hold of one of the team."

The impossible had happened, of course, and Celtic had overcome their illustrious Italian opponents to take the new trophy back to Glasgow.  Never mind San Francisco and the summer of love. Kerrydale street in the east - end of Glasgow was the best place to chill - out on the evening of Friday 26th of May 1967.The heroes were home and they had brought their prize with them.  Jock McAulay was there to witness the victory parade.

"Celtic Park was packed to the rafters. We had walked the relatively short distance from our house at the lower end of Springfield rd up to the park. I had taken my son and daughter along as I knew this was a once - in - a - lifetime opportunity to witness a unique occasion. We had left in what I had thought had been plenty of time but as soon as we got near the park I knew we might have left it too late. We walked up the stairs and slope at the back of the old Celtic end and found every passage - way blocked. Somehow we
managed to find our way in and I lifted my son onto my shoulders. A kindly fellow Celt lifted my three year old daughter on to his shoulders and then suddenly the crowd erupted as the team emerged from the tunnel and climbed aboard the lorry which would take them on their lap of honour. For me, it was the most satisfying moment in a life spent following Celtic in earnest since the late 1930's and a moment I will never forget."

Celtic had taken Europe by storm in season 1966/67 and their achievement in bringing the European cup to Britain for the first time can never be underestimated. In the lean years of the 1990's there have been mutterings from within and outwith the club that the win in Lisbon has become a millstone around the neck of Celtic and that every Celtic team is unfairly compared to the Lions. Whilst it can be unproductive to be constantly harking back to what you have achieved in the past it is also important to remember that the history of the club is what makes it great. Without the history there would be nothing
to follow and nothing worth supporting. The team that won in Lisbon is the greatest part of that history and we should rejoice in that fact.  Your author made the pilgrimage to the Estadio Nacional Lisbon in the summer of 1999 when I was on holiday in the Algarve. Much to my surprise it was the day of the Portuguese cup final and I managed to get a ticket for the game.
Astonishingly the stadium seems to have changed very little from the 1960's. The recent addition of seats has not taken away any of the antiquated charm
of the place and in essence it remains the same. I sat and watched, half interested, as two Portuguese sides slogged it out in the searing heat. In my mind though I was back in 1967 cheering on the Celts to their finest
Achievement. I could almost imagine the weaving runs of Johnstone and Big Billy holding the most famous trophy in football above his sweat soaked head
as the adoring throng looked on. If you ever get the chance to go, then do it. For a Celtic fan it is the
thrill of a lifetime to have stood were the Lisbon heroes strutted their stuff.

Charles McKewan and his band of happy travellers finally arrived back in Glasgow on the Sunday after the game.

"We hated missing the victory parade but that was more than made up for by the fact that we had been there. In the years to follow we dined out many times on the tale of our journey to Lisbon. Our old car went on for another few years and it was a sad day when it was finally carted off to the scrap - yard. For me, the greatest thing about Lisbon was the fact that ordinary guys had taken on the best and beat them. When I look back now I don't really think we realised just how great an achievement it was. Celtic should make sure those players are never forgotten."

A fan revisits Lisbon. Paradise Found, by Martin O'Donnel