Fond farewell as flag lowered

      ALAN PATTULLO


      IT IS, ostensibly, the morning after the night before though time has
grown steadily more inconsequential here in Seville. Fans were still outside
the Estadio Olimpico seeking taxis to ferry them the inordinate distance to
the city centre even while charter planes carrying the first home were
landing in Scotland at 3am on Thursday morning.

      Many never made it to bed at all, too strung-out by nerves, excitement
and pain, too wrecked to remember where it was they stayed, perhaps too
sensible to have even bothered wasting money on a space they knew they would
not occupy having anticipated one most basic premise: it's magic, you know,
sleep and Seville don't go.

      It is why so many casualties were yesterday slumped in the train
station at Seville, caught in a twilight zone which suggests slumber to be
advisable but which simply refuses to sanction it. Another good thing about
these platforms, which yesterday were littered with green and white debris,
is the shade they offer, since yesterday the morning sun again cast down a
fiery gleam on a city for once not thankful for the bright light which
served to aggravate the headaches. Not all of these were of the sort caused
by alcohol and treated by nurofen.

      Logistical nightmares there have been many, including the unexpected
need to close down the city centre for five hours on the day of the game,
and the added stress of a giant television screen not flickering to life
until well into the second half. Another was rendered almost unwatchable due
to sunlight obscuring the screen.

      The local airport which on Wednesday handled 249 flights was yesterday
described as being, like the majority of the Celtic fans, close to burn-out.
Seville, declared the Diaro de Selvilla, had been anointed the "le capital
de Escocia y Portugal", and little wonder.

      "The quantity of beer we have sold has never been known before in
Seville," said Juan Rubles, director of hospitality for the city. "Although
some locals could not get to their favourite restaurants, the fans more than
made up for this in financial terms. I don't remember a day when there have
been so many non-Sevillanos in the city, not even in the final of the
Spanish Cup, not even in the World Cup of 1982."

      Yesterday the invading force began to pull out, with the high-speed
AVE close to having every seat reserved on trains to Madrid. The Madrid
Emerald Celtic Supporters Club, three of whom never made it to their beds
because some dolt had their key (sorry lads), began the retreat north at
midday, outraged at the Madrid-centric sports paper Marca's decision to run
on its front page, even in its Seville edition, Jesus Gil's resignation as
Atletico Madrid president (the little matter of the UEFA Cup final does not
rate a mention until page 34).

      Many fans sought mementoes to take with them. Onlookers watched
dumfounded as a group of Scottish supporters pondered over this conundrum:
one street lamp, at the tip of which dangled a highly desired and neatly
embroidered flag advertising the UEFA Cup final.

      Shimmying up the pole, which formed the first attempt at looting,
failed rather miserably.

      A lorry driver could not then be tempted by the offer of a 10 note to
reverse slightly, so that another fellow might clamber upon the roof of his
trailer in search of his high-flying quarry.

      Then, incredibly, having discovered the Spanish word for ladder,
another marched out of a local restaurant carrying said item. Alas, it
proved too short. So two tables were snatched from a nearby pavement cafe,
and placed one on top the other, with the ladder now precariously situated
on top.

      We had the height needed, but did we have the braveheart, the
master-builder, required to scale the wobbly structure? Yes we did. It wasn'
t a moment to rival for significance the tearing down of Saddam Hussein's
statue in Baghdad, but the sight of fears being vanquished drew applause
from the locals who watched with some admiration the street performance.

      It also said much about the type of fan who had travelled here: those
who would stop at nothing to support their team, and who were determined to
remember the occasion when they eventually return, be it via torn ticket
stub or pilfered street flag.

      They know, despite what Marca reckoned, they had been the main story
here, the reason why Seville won't be the same for some considerable time
yet. And the memories brought home to Scotland, to Ireland, to the States
and wherever else, will cling like the dust to the shoes of those far-flung
Celtic fans gradually filtering home from a city which has, in more ways
than one, just been declared dry.