[Che Timvara]

My brother-in-law picked me up at a little after half nine. Just ten minutes before I had been content to settle down for the night. I was tired and hungry, and, I thought, would soon be ready for my bed. I had the menu for the Indian in my hand when he called, but there was not even momentary hesitation or time for doubt. It was a no-brainer.

Tonight was pure Hollywood. Tonight was pure Celtic.

????: http://www.MonTheHoops.co.uk The Only Member Moderated Celtic Forum http://www.monthehoops.co.uk/showthread.php?p=443281
“Do you fancy coming down to Parkhead to see Keane?” he had asked, and I said yes before it dawned on me that I wouldn’t get back till after 12, that I was swapping a decent Indian takeout for a microwave hamburger, that I was going to miss a call from my girlfriend and that there was very little likelihood of seeing all that much anyway. I put on a clean shirt, got my shoes ready and had them on when he arrived.

This is what being a Celtic fan is all about, I thought as I got into the back seat of his car. My young niece was in the front, wearing a green hat and her jacket over a Celtic tracksuit top. She too wanted to see our new hero, a player about whom she knew little but knew enough. There is something magical about a moment like that, a moment where you see the love for Celtic being passed down like a generational thing a moment when you get that a new era is dawning, that new hopes and dreams are being born. But it’s more than just the generations, I thought, it goes beyond that.

I knew that before I saw my bed, I would see young and old, women and girls, men and boys, from all walks of life, of all colours and creeds, perhaps people who had made plans and were cancelling them to just be there; people who had never stood in the rain for a concert ticket or thought the very notion of celebrity was over-played bull. I knew they’d all be there, that I knew I’d see them, that I knew if I chatted with anyone they’d be able to recall with total clarity the moment they heard “the news”, and I also knew they’d remember that moment forever after.

Nights like this are pure Celtic. Earlier, on the radio, I had listened to a debate between a Celtic fan and a Rangers fan, over the signing, with the Rangers fan decrying the signing as nothing to be concerned about, a signing worthy of nothing more than scorn. The Celtic fan seized upon his remarks; “This is a Hollywood signing,” he said, “And that’s why you are phoning tonight, to talk about the biggest story out there.” He was right. Everyone was talking about it; it was on Newsnight, as a top story! Celtic’s name was on everyone’s lips, and that Rangers fan had called in, he said, to curtail the enthusiasm of our fans by reminding us of the 10 point gap. No-one who heard him doubted his real motive; he was on because when a story is this big, you just have to be part of it, even if it leaves you scared to death, as it clearly did. You could hear it in his voice.

You could hear something different in the voice of the Celtic fan; it was joy, pure unbridled joy. It gripped us all.
Despite that, I was unsure of what to expect when we got to Celtic Park. It was a Monday night after all, and a wet and cold one at that. From all I know of Celtic and being a Celtic fan, I was, nevertheless, unprepared for the sight that met me as my brother-in-law drove his car up a side-street just off London Road. There was no room for parking anywhere! “Maybe,” I said, in disbelief, “these are night-shift workers from the factories ...” a remark which he met with a grunt!

“You know what this is ....” he said, and I should have, but still I was amazed as we reached the end of the road and turned into London Road itself. It was a little after ten to ten. Every parking space was filled, as far as the eye could see, all the way down in both directions. There were people everywhere; Celtic scarves were sticking out of zipped up jackets and mobile phones buzzed with the latest updates.

Walking up towards the ground, I felt as though I was going to a big match; the atmosphere was absolutely electric. The closer we got the louder the noise from the fans already waiting. Reaching the car-park, it was clear the place was packed out. I thought at that point that there were a thousand fans there, but it didn’t take long before I corrected that assessment; as we got to the fringes of the crowd, a glance left revealed Celtic fans stretching into the distance. A look right, towards the ticket office, showed Troops in Hoops everywhere. I doubled my estimate, knew that was an undersell and there was still time for the numbers to grow.

We were right at the back; there was no way of getting near the front, but it was good just to be there, amongst the rest of the Troops, listening to their chatter about the day which was coming to a close. As I looked at the faces, at the optimism, at the happiness, I saw a reflection of how I was feeling myself, and that was when it hit me;

“We’re knitting together again,” I thought. “This Family has regained its equilibrium and we’re uniting behind the team.”

Of all the things our rivals fear, it’s this they fear the most, for the Celtic Family is never stronger than when we’re united and moving in the same direction. When we get behind the cause that strengthens everyone and you can see the results on the park. As big an impact as Keane might make on the field, I saw with my own eyes the results of his signing off of it, and that filled me with as much hope as if I’d seen him score the goal which put us back on top of the league.

By ten past ten the crowd had grown further, and the Troops, who had been singing as I arrived, broke into song once more. The chant, of course, was “Keano, Keano”, one I would imagine we’ll be hearing a lot of in the weeks and months to come. It was freezing cold. Rain was falling lightly but just enough to make it a little uncomfortable, but the Troops were in celebratory mood. When a few police officers came outside to talk to the boys at the front, who were encroaching a little, the supporters around them played down the potential seriousness of the incident with a chorus of “We’re Only Here For The Party.” And that’s what it was like; it was like a big outdoor concert, with the fans providing the entertainment until the main act got on to the stage. The cold didn’t matter. Nothing did.

The guys inside the building had heard, by then, that the numbers outside were getting crazy. 5000 fans were, by then, camped in the car-park, and they were singing and chanting and making it quite clear no-one was going to move until the man himself had come out onto those steps. The mood could have been ugly; I turned to my brother-in-law at one point and asked him if he thought a similar crowd would have turned up had the window been about to close in the manner of last year’s, with nothing positive to speak of. I pointed out that, of course, the mood would have been a little bit different! He agreed, with a smile.

At around half past ten, some of the Troops spotted our friends in the media setting up equipment, and began to suggest, in song, that Celtic’s stewards should send them home. It brought widespread laughter from the gathered fans, and that seemed to spark further amusing songs; a minute or two later the Troops were chanting “All the Huns are in their beds”, a song which most of the crowd were taking up before long.

It was one of those great Celtic fan moments which will stick in the mind forever, like watching the youths clinch the reserve league title at Ibrox last year when McGregor was enjoying a spell in the Rangers stiffs, greeting his every touch of the ball with a chorus of “The baby’s not yours ......” following it up with “It’s Paddy McCourt’s ..... It’s Paddy McCourt’s .... Allan McGregor ..... It’s Paddy McCourt’s.”

At around eleven, someone decided to say a few words to the fans, and a large speaker was set up on the steps. A familiar voice spoke to the fans, welcoming us, as he does every second week, to Celtic Park, and informing us that Keane would be with us in fifteen minutes, an announcement which brought a great roar of joy from the gathered fans, and another chorus of “All the Huns are in their beds”, followed by the chant “Keano, Keano!” As I looked around I didn’t see one tired face, not one suggestion of boredom, not one look of frustration. Most of us knew we’d see very little, we knew from what we’d heard of the announcement we’d be unlikely to hear a word Keane said when he finally took centre stage, but none of that seemed important; it was a moment in Celtic’s history which I felt, which all of us felt, we just had to be there for, regardless.

Celtic has signed great players in the past, but there is something special about this one, short-term though it might prove to be. Robbie Keane is not just another player passing through the periphery of our history; this one has the feeling of a profound and transformational moment, a moment when the board found some spark again, something to re-ignite the faith of the fans and demonstrate their support for the manager. The press, howling its anger, its frustration for weeks now, has been neutered and silenced; none can now doubt the board backs Mowbray and is keeping the faith. The club has been given the shot in the arm it needed.

Mowbray himself must now be mentioned, because those who have said he is wilting under pressure, that he lacks leadership, that he is not tough, are being force-fed their words with a long spoon. Mowbray’s ruthless purging of the dressing room has been unprecedented in our club’s history. When he arrived he told us he might need several windows to get the team to a place where he could call it his own; it has taken him two. He has cleared out the deadwood, but he has done a lot more. He has sold the club’s top scorer and has jettisoned one of his own signings from the summer; it is clear this is a man who runs his own show, who is comfortable making big decisions, who leads from the front and doesn’t fold the hand.

In my last article, I said I thought he was the right man at the right time. That could not be clearer than it is today. Not only do I stand by those words, but I will go further. I think we’re lucky to have him. This man is leading not a rebuilding job, but a revolution.

At midnight tonight, the final piece of the Mowbray jigsaw for this window stepped out into a cold wet night at Celtic Park and the voices of 5000 supporters greeted him in joy. Around me, on both sides, green flares were lit and their smoke filled the air; whether scripted or not, organised by the club itself, or the product of a few delighted fans, it was a moment of great theatre which added yet more magic to what was already a very special night at the home of the biggest football club in the land.

Keane said a few words, unremarkable in themselves but stunning for the fact they were being uttered at all, by him, in that time and place. The cheers of the troops drowned out much of what he said, but the words which filtered back through the crowd were everything; “dream come true”, “here to score the goals that win the title” ..... the words we wanted to hear and needed to hear from someone with the ability to deliver the goods. Just as quickly as he came out, it seemed he was gone, but that too is part of what made the night special. To some, we’d spent 90 minutes in the cold and wet to experience but a moment, but those who were there, to those who kept in touch with us by text and by phone, to those who waited at home watching the press conference on the news, there was a feeling again that the Family was functioning as one.

Celtic Football Club at times seems steeped in fairytale, and our story at times seems more myth than reality. Tonight the fairytale, the myth, met the reality head-on. Tonight, the spirit which has driven us onward to our most famous triumphs was restored. The flame was rekindled, and burns once more. The Celtic Family is together again.

Tonight was pure Hollywood. Tonight was pure Celtic.

The title race is alive once more, and although ten points still separate the sides, I cannot help but feel we’re in the driving seat again.

I believe we will do it. Tonight, I saw 5000 reasons why. Keane has made the difference, before he’s even taken his first steps out onto the field in a Celtic strip. That’s what tonight was all about.

Hail Hail, the Celt’s are back!

[delgreco]

Jeez Che,,I am in Llanelli Wales,,but reading that I "felt" I was there,,magic..a true Carlsgerg day.

[VoodooChild360]

February 1st? Where was I, Che?

I was down at Celtic Park!

The Messiah has arrived!

[tyson277]

so this is what the feel good factor feels like hunbelievable night

[Bumblehoop]

Post of the year.

[Honeybhoy]

I was glued to my lappy doing my part to crash Celtic servers all over the net.

[C.C]

fantastic post.

ha ha all gone pear shape now ,what a sad lot you are

Giving a goalkeeper grief at a reserve match is one of those great Celtic fan moments. Just as small minded and obsessed with us as usual.

[Paul]

Manchester, speaking of greatest fan moments.



That is all.

[delgreco]

Think your the one obsessed with us.
For eg, why are you on a Tic Forum?
Pear shaped, aye.
Sad ,aye.
Could be worse, I could support Crimewatch FC but I dont Hate anyone enough.
Have a nice Day, and may God forgive all your Hate.