1991-03-17: Celtic 2-0 Rangers, Scottish Cup

Match Pictures | Matches: 1990–1991 | 1990-91 Pictures

Trivia

• St Patrick’s Day massacre.
• Live match free on terrestrial TV on Sunday afternoon.
• Four players sent off: Grant for Celtic; Walters, Hateley and Hurlock for Rangers.
• Relieved tension & pressure on underfire manager Billy McNeill, but in retrospect it simply delayed the inevitable.

Review

“Maybe St Patrick was watching just a little bit that day and decided to give us a hand.”
Billy McNeill

Cracking win for Celtic after seeing us lose a man first (Peter Grant red card). Rangers lost three players in what was a great morale boosting win that saw Celtic KO Rangers.

First half goals from Gerry Creaney & Shug (deflected free-kick) sealed the win, and no amount of posturing from Rangers could get them near Celtic.

Peter Grant made an ass of himself by getting sent off stupidly. He conceded a free-kick outside our box (first yellow) and then charged the free-kick down (second yellow) to get himself a red! Thankfully Celtic survived.

Great win as the support sang “Happy Birthday St Patrick” all day long. Wonderful.

Teams

Celtic:
Bonner; Wdowczyk, Rogan, Grant, Elliott, Whyte, Miller, McStay, Coyne, Creaney, Collins.
Subs:
Goals: Creaney 6mins, Wdowczyk 37mins
Sent off: Peter Grant

Rangers:
Woods; Stevens, Munro (Cowan, 73min), Gough, Nisbet, Hurlock, Steven (Huistra 11), Ferguson, Hateley, Johnston, Walters.
Sent Off: Terry Hurlock, Mark Walters and Mark Hateley

Att:
Referee: A W Waddell (Edinburgh).

Articles

• Match Report (see end of page below)

Pictures

• Match Pictures

KDS

• Memories (2012)

Articles

17 March 1991, The St Patricks Day Massacre – Celtic 2 Rangers 0

By Niall J 10 November, 2019

17 March 1991, The St Patricks Day Massacre – Celtic 2 Rangers 0

IN yesterday’s article about Gerry Crainey living the Dream at Celtic I mentioned the St Patricks day massacre match and the game that followed and that inspired me to go back and look at these games, firstly the on on 17 March 1991 which was as special as frankly it was unexpected!

The St Patricks Day Massacre

For Celtic fans of shall we say a certain vintage, Celtic’s 2-0 win against Rangers at Celtic Park on 17 March 1991 was pretty special indeed.

Despite the closeness of the score, this was Celtic’s most comprehensive victory over Rangers since Graeme Souness’s arrival at the Ibrox Club in 1986.

In this explosive Scottish Cup tie that immediately became known as ‘The St Patricks Day Massacre’ Celtic threw the form book out the window and set up one of the most satisfying weeks as a Celtic supporter, that those barren times allowed us to experience.

Celtic lined up on St Patricks Day 1991 with: Pat Bonner; Dariusz Wdowczyk, Paul Elliott, Derek Whyte, Anton Rogan; Joe Miller, Peter Grant, Paul McStay, John Collins; Tommy Coyne and of course Gerry Creaney.

In 1987 in a derby encounter at Ibrox in which three men were ordered off, Chris Woods and Terry Butcher of Rangers were found guilty of breach of the peace, while Graham Roberts was found not proven and Frank McAvennie of Celtic not guilty as that particular match moved from the pitch to the courtroom.

That encounter was tame in comparison to this one but thankfully there was no procurator fiscal trying to raise his public profile, with on pitch officials were left to deal with the punishments meted out.

To give you some idea on the level of indiscipline on show predominately from, it must be said a frustrated Rangers side, Graeme Souness said post-match:

”I would like to apologise for the lack of discipline on the part of my team. I never thought I would see the day they would display such indiscipline.”

Anyone who saw Souness play will know he wasn’t shy of some on field violence himself. To feel the need to apologise showed just how much his Rangers side lost their heads at Celtic Park that day.

In the sixth minute a long diagonal free kick from Polish defender Dariusz Wdowcyk was won brilliantly and bravely by Tommy Coyne up against an aggressive Richard Gough. The knock on was met by Gerry Creaney nipping in ahead of Scott Nisbet on the bounce and the Celtic striker smashed a perfect thumping shot that flew passed Chris Woods and into the keepers right hand corner of the net. A simply worked goal showed immediate intent from Celtic and shocked Rangers.

The second goal came in the 37th minute and again Dariusz Wdowcyck was involved. This time his 35 yard free kick evaded the initial two man Rangers wall but deflected off Rangers enforcer Terry Hurlock standing behind them and high into the net. It was a wonderful strike of a ball and the deflection left woods without an earthly of getting to it but it would more than likely have ended up in the net in any case. As the commentator said ‘it’s bedlam at Celtic Park’.

The second half saw Mark Hately feed Peter Huistra with a great opportunity to get Rangers back in the game but his dreadful effort flew miles wide of Bonner’s right hand post to a cacophony of heckling and mocking and building frustration amongst the Rangers players.

The first red card was produced by the referee, Andrew Waddell, seven minutes into the second half. Peter Grant was the recipient, he’d been booked just before for a tangle with Mo Johnston and on this occasion the second yellow was for charging down a free kick. You couldn’t really argue with the referee’s decision.

Nor could you argue with the first red card for Rangers. Terry Hurlock whose on field behaviour would make Graeme Souness look like a choirboy in comparison, took exception to Tommy Coyne nudging him from behind and lashed out with an elbow into the Celtic striker’s face. Hurlock’s face told the story as he waited for the red card to be produced from Andrew Waddell’s pocket. Bang to rights.

With ten minutes to go and again with Tommy Coyne the victim Rangers wide man and probably best player on the day Mark Walters seemed determined he was going to follow Hurlock down the tunnel. Having already been involved as the recipient of a tough tackle on the touchline and a retaliation the referee kindly ignored, Walters then ploughed into Tommy Coyne giving the referee no choice whatsoever, however sympathetic he had been to ignore the initial retaliation, and Waddell flashed his third red card of the afternoon.

By now rangers were in complete disarray, they had lost all semblance of discipline and there was yet more to come.

Mark Hately and Celtic’s Anton Rogan came together in front of the main stand near the corner with the Celtic end. Rogan made contact with Hately’s face and the big English striker responded by punching Rogan. The first card flashed and it was yellow for Rogan before Andrew Waddell somewhat theatrically flashed a red card in the face of Hately and reduced Rangers to eight men.

It was now a decade since Rangers had won the Cup. They couldn’t handle Celtic’s first half performance and it showed as they simply lost the plot completely in the second half.

It was a fantastic win for Celtic, it alleviated the pressure on manager Billy McNeill. The Celtic manager was grinning from ear to ear and beaming with pride when he was interviewed post-match.

“I think the fact it was St Patrick’s Day meant an awful lot to the fans. So, maybe St Patrick was watching that afternoon and decided to give us a hand.”

The Celtic supporters sent the Rangers fans home with a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday St Patrick’ ringing in their ears.

It was only half-time in Celtic’s fine week lording it over their Glasgow rivals. More was to come just seven days later. In the meantime the highlights from the St Patrick’s Day Massacre are below, so please enjoy!

Niall J

The Times
March18, 1991, Monday
Four sent off asCelticwin

BYLINE:By Roddy Forsyth

THREE players fromRangersand one fromCelticwere sent off before the home team completed its 2-0 win in an acrimonious Scottish Cup quarter-final at Parkhead yesterday.Rangersfinished without Terry Hurlock, Mark Walters and Mark Hateley. Peter Grant, ofCeltic, was also shown the red card.Forty supporters were arrested after fighting broke out. Strathclyde police said those arrested had been charged with public order offences.

The catalogue of misdemeanours in the fifth Old Firm meeting this season also included bookings for Rogan and Johnston, ofCeltic, and Nisbet, ofRangers, whose manager, Graeme Souness, said: ”I would like to apologise for the lack of discipline on the part of my team. I never thought I would see the day they would display such indiscipline.”

The first red card was produced by the referee, Andrew Waddell, seven minutes into the second half. Grant, who had been cautioned shortly before for impeding Johnston, stood too near the ball whenRangerswere awarded a free-kick.

Rangers’numerical advantage was short-lived, however. As he emerged from a tackle by Coyne, Hurlock elbowed theCelticforward in the face. Ten minutes from time, Walters swung his arm at Coyne and was dismissed. WithRangersin disarray, Hateley joined the list of forced retirements when he punched Rogan after theCelticdefender had struck him on the face. Rogan was cautioned and was fortunate not to have been sent off as well.

Celticscored with Creaney’s drive from eight yards and a free kick from Wdowczyk that looped off Hurlock’s right boot past Woods. It is now a decade sinceRangershave won the Cup.

Just wish I’d gone for punch.

MARCH 17, 1991
Scottish Cup quarter-final
Celtic…2 Rangers…0

PETER GRANT still winces with embarrassment when he thinks back to the Old Firm clash which became known as the St Patrick’s Day Massacre.

Celtic star Grant and Terry Hurlock, Mark Walters and Mark Hateley of Rangers all saw red as the Hoops won 2-0 in a chaotic Scottish Cup tie at Parkhead. It was Grant’s only red card against Rangers in his 15-year career with the Hoops – but he’s still gutted it was for charging down a free-kick and not PUNCHING someone.

With Celtic 2-0 up thanks to first-half goals from Gerry Creaney and Dariusz Wdowczyk, ref Andrew Waddell flashed a straight red at Grant for rushing a free-kick at the edge of the box.

Grant said: “It was my only Old Firm red card and I’d rather have been sent off for punching someone. When you tell people it was for charging down a free-kick you become a bit of a laughing stock. I remember thinking if we lost the game I would get it but moments later I heard a set of studs coming down the tunnel and then another and it was the Rangers boys who were in bother.

“It was funny as that day Hurlock and I had been in the Sunday Mail bold as brass trying to show our caring, family side then we both got sent off!”
COPYRIGHT 2011 Scottish Daily Record & Sunday

Memories

(Tamba Trio of KDS forum)

My memory on the Grant red card was that he had been initially fortunate not to be sent off when giving away the free kick. It’d been dangerously close to a professional foul but things weren’t quite as strict back then and he’d got away with it. We breathed a sigh of relief, only for the idiot to charge down the free kick and get himself sent off anyway.

Aside from that, what a great week. It was so rare to have live football back then so to have two humpings of the hun in back to back weeks was truly special. We were quite good at giving ourselves hope during the 90s. These games were followed by a brutal semi final defeat against Motherwell after a replay. I was at the first semi v Motherwell. 0-0 in the pissing rain at Hampden. Utterly miserable, although I do remember the noise the Celtic fans made at one point was up there with anything I’ve ever heard.

One year later a cracking 2-0 win at Ibrox was followed by the most painful game of them all – the semi defeat to the huns. The game in which we hit the woodwork three times, were denied the single clearest penalty I’ve ever saw and played against 10 men for 85 minutes yet still managed to lose. And it was pissing with rain.

In the 93-94 season (yes – the Macari years) we actually had the cheek to be in the title race at Christmas. Only a point or so behind, we were on a role having beat the huns at Ibrox and were all set to beat them at CP and genuinely challenge. Cue being 3-0 down and chaos ensuing (although, even then, we nearly got back into the match).

Routinely, just as it looked like we were going to turn the corner, it’d turn out that we’d actually stumbled blindly into a dimly lit alley populated by big hairy rapists who’d procede to roger us so badly we’d be crying for weeks afterwards whilst mumbling incoherently about the unfairness of it all and lamenting the lack of any decent, reasonable and compassionate God.

(Silent Witness of KDS forum)

That was my going to nearly all the hun games season.

First game at Ibrox in Sept ’90, we were murdered 1-1. They missed chance after chance only for Whyte to score with a terrific header.

Then it was the League Cup Final in October, when for the 1st hour we were actually the better team. The Cesar took off Joe Miller for Chris Morris, the huns upped the pace and ground out the win.

Missed the 2-1 defeat in November at CP.

But went to the New Year game at Ibrox – it was very easy to get a ticket. Finished 2-0 to the huns and they did in cruise mode. It put us on something like 17 points after 20 games and they sang “Relegation” to us at the end.

By the time the Cup game came along we were actually on a wee run of form. Not exactly playing well, but they were grinding out results and we caught the huns at exactly the right time. They’d just lost to Aberdeen (quality team that season) and it was all just starting to unravel with Souness. Creaney’s goal apart, I don’t recollect a great deal of football being played. Tommy Coyne did a great job of winding up their players and for some reason, their collective fuses went. The following week, though, we were flattered to win 3-0, but it was enough to send them into meltdown. If Souness had not left, they would have lost that league (almost did anyway).

I was then at the first huns game during the following season and the difference with them was like night and day. The absolutely murdered us 2-0 with Hateley in particular running all over our defence. False dawns indeed.

Scottish Cup Memories – The St. Patrick’s DayMassacre

Source: https://ntvceltic.wordpress.com/2017/01/19/scottish-cup-memories-the-st-patricks-day-massacre/

Scottish Cup 3rd round, 1991, and there we were in Forfar, up to our armpits in bridies muttering, “Haven’t we been here before??” It wasn’t the only similarity we would encounter on this cup run.
Happily Forfar didn’t cause any problems this time round and an easy 2:0 victory was recorded. The main talking point after the game was the Forfar fans’ (or should that be “fan’s”?) constant chanting of Terry Hurlock’s name. Rather than admitting to being Huns without the bus fares the locals would doubtless claim that they were just winding us up. Aye right!
St. Mirren were the opponents in the fourth round (a young Paul Lambert featured on the bench). The tie was moved to a midweek slot to accommodate TV – a rare event in Scotland at the time – and first half goals from Coyne, Miller and an o.g. from McWhirter were enough to see Celtic through safely to the last eight.
So, the quarter final draw, and more deja vu as the audible gasps together with the thud of SFA officials hitting the deck in fainting fits could only mean one thing; the big Glasgow teams had to play each other in an early round for the second season in a row.
Rangers, at Celtic Park, with the tie due to be played on St. Patrick’s Day no less.
The build up to this one was naturally very subdued with no one being too bothered about who was going to win… Oh all right. Everyone was going mental!
Not only was our season on the line again, but Rangers were going for the treble. Celtic were due to play them twice in two weeks and recent form suggested that the Hoops were in for a hefty beating – in some cases quite literally.
The more superstitious among us were dismayed to find out that Celtic’s lucky mascot in the Scottish Cup, Chris Morris, was injured. He’d never lost a game in this competition in regulation play. The more football minded among us were dismayed because this meant that Mark McNally might be involved. In the event the more experienced Grant was picked in defence.
If there was any hope to cling on to it was the fact that Rangers hadn’t won a cup tie against the Hoops at Celtic Park since 1905. They also had Scott Nisbet playing in defence.
The game itself started in an unusually quiet manner, both teams dispensing with the traditional early practice of blootering the ball – or the nearest opponent – as far as possible in the direction one happened to be facing at the time. But it wasn’t long before the shrill tone of the referee’s whistle was announcing the first episode of that afternoon’s foulfest as Walters got to show off his silky skills by dextrously clattering Joe Miller into the stand.
Andrew Waddell was that day’s man in black. A pathologist by profession, he was officiating his first Glasgow derby and was about to witness some pretty pathological behaviour from Souness’s stiffs.
Six minutes in, Celtic took the lead when Wdowczyck lofted a free kick to the far side of the Rangers penalty area. Gough was odds-on favourite to get it but his former Dundee United team mate Coyne got the vital nod. The ball broke to Gerry Creaney who managed to blast a shot past Woods and into the corner of the net. It was one of the best goals he ever scored for Celtic and truly typical of the player. Give him an impossible angle and an awkward bouncing ball and he’d fire it in almost every time; give him a one-on-one with the ‘keeper and he’d fall on his arse.
Rangers were not impressed by this unexpected turn of events and came roaring back. Bonner had to come for several dangerous crosses and Trevor Steven saw a header float just wide.
Things took a turn for the worse for the silenced blue hordes shortly after that. Steven, the man Rangers looked to in midfield, caught his studs in the turf while attempting to foul Joe Miller, who was having a rare afternoon of good form on the right wing.
Steven was carried off to a sympathetic chorus of “Dig a hole and bury him” from the Jungle. On the way up the tunnel he passed assistant manager Walter Smith who was sporting a ghastly blue shell suit and white trainers ensemble that made him look like a pensioner who had been adopted by the Aberdeen casuals as a lucky mascot. His loss took the creative thrust from Rangers and Celtic, with McStay in top form, took control of this crucial area.
The answer from Souness was to trundle Big Bertha out and begin the aerial bombardment. The contrast in forward lines took on a familiar look. Predating Blackburn’s SAS (Sutton and Shearer) Celtic were fielding the MCC (Miller, Coyne and Creaney. Rangers were relying on the HUB (Hateley’s an Ugly Bastard).
In truth the game was one for the Doug Baillie raw meat enthusiasts rather than admirers of the Dutch national team, due largely to the interminable stoppages for fouls and injuries, but just before half-time Celtic got another break. With the clock ticking down to the interval Celtic were awarded a foul after Hurlock – the kind of player that often had opponents reaching for the garlic and crucifix – had grounded Creaney for the umpteenth time.
The kick was dead centre of the pitch but a good 35 yards from the goal. It seemed obvious that Wdowczyck would float it into the box just as he had earlier in the game. Not a bit of it.
The distance he took for his run up would have done justice to a fully laden Jumbo jet on the runway at Glasgow Airport. Starting from just outside the centre circle he raced up a leathered the ball with everything he could muster. Instinctively, Hurlock put out a leg which succeeded in sending it in a majestic arc over Woods and into the net.
Celtic Park went into full-on berserk mode. Poetic justice had been meted out to a player who should never have been allowed out onto the same pitch as the likes of McStay and Collins.
Hostilities paused briefly when Maurice Johnston, who until this point had given us very few chances to hurl abuse in his direction, slithered his own way into Waddell’s notebook for dissent, which matched his descent the year before.
As the half-time whistle blew we could scarcely believe what was happening.
The second half started with Rangers playing in predictably determined fashion (wouldn’t you be determined if you had to pick bits of tea cup out of your head following a Souness rant?) and after a torrid eight minutes Johnston was put through on goal only to be hauled back by Grant. Referee Andrew Waddel, not a renowned Celtic sympathiser, duly awarded the free kick but let Grant off with a yellow card, judging that Elliott was the last man rather than Pointy Pete.
It looked like being a vital break until Grant lined up in the defensive wall for the resultant set piece before charging at the ball like someone rehearsing for Pamplona. It was another bookable offence and he was promptly dismissed.
Calamity.
Rangers squandered a number of chances in the following ten minutes, most notably a sclaff by Huistra from ten yards out, before Celtic steadied. Paul Elliott typified Celtic’s attitude on the day when he stopped a Ferguson shot with his face and slumped to the deck spitting out teeth, blood and the remains of his half-time pie and bovril. A rub down with Brian Scott’s magic sponge and he was back on the pitch a few minutes later looking for Soapy with an ominous glint in his eye.
Then the real fun started. Tommy Coyne, dropping back to help his beleaguered team mates, clipped Hurlock, who clearly didn’t subscribe to the old adage that if you dish it out you should be prepared to take it. He lashed out at Coyne with his elbow – he was approximately three feet away from the referee at this point – and got a straight red for violent conduct. Incredibly, he hadn’t even been booked until then.
At which point the roof fell in on Rangers and their players seemed to lose whatever sense of self-discipline they had.
If Hurlock had been contemplating a quiet fifteen minutes in the bath playing with his rubber duck he was in for a surprise. Coyne was involved in the next incident as well. He tackled Walters and won the ball. The Rangers winger, who had been well shackled by an unusually sure-footed Anton Rogan, had two good attempts at removing der Bomber’s kneecaps before finally settling for a well placed elbow in the teeth. Walters had been booked for yet another foul on Coyne in the first half, but there was to be no second yellow. Once again it was a straight red.
Next to go was Hateley, at that time almost as much of a hate figure among the Rangers supporters as he was with us. He got himself involved in a handbags sketch with Rogan. Both were shown yellow cards but as it was Hateley’s second he too took the long walk towards what was becoming a busy Rangers early bath tub.
With their opponents reduced to eight players Celtic threatened to run riot but unfortunately Creaney was unable to convert two great chances; a header from six yards or a one-on-one with Woods. It would have been a memorable hat-trick.
However, spirits weren’t dampened in the slightest. A famous victory had been achieved, one that we imagined would surely give Celtic the heart to march on and claim the Scottish Cup for the third time in four years. (1)
As if to emphasise the turning of the corner the Hoops won against Rangers again a week later, this time by the even more convincing margin of 3:0 in a match that was also shown live on TV.
In anticipation of Rangers being unable to drastically alter their style of play NTV gave out 6,000 red cards to be waved at offenders.
Nesbit duly obliged.
It was the last time Celtic faced a Rangers team managed by Graeme Souness, or as one of his players affectionately called him, The Beast (copyright Jan Bartram 1988). He walked out on them shortly afterwards to take charge of Liverpool after Kenny Dalglish decided he’d had enough.

THE ST PATRICK’S DAY MASSACRE

THE ST PATRICK’S DAY MASSACRE

by The ShamrockPosted on 10/01/2024

“Maybe St Patrick was watching just a little bit that day and decided to give us a hand.” – Billy McNeill

“He soothed the souls of psychos and the men who had the horn And they all looked very happy in the morning” – Shane MacGowan, Sally MacLennane

Saint Patrick knew better than anyone that all good things come in threes. This Scotsman of Roman descent chose the shamrock to illustrate to the Irish the mystery of the Holy Trinity, in turn becoming the patron saint of the Emerald Isle. As the Irish spread out among the continents of the world, the saint’s day of 17th March became the day for celebrating Irishness wherever green was worn around the globe.

It was no different in Glasgow, the city that gave birth to the greatest sporting institution of the Irish diaspora: Celtic FC. 17th March was always celebrated with vigour by the Celtic support but in 1991 there was a jamboree planned like none before or since. In the afternoon, a Scottish Cup quarter-final tie between Celtic and Rangers at Celtic Park. In the evening, The Pogues – a London-based band who had single-handedly breathed new life into the Irish folk music tradition by infusing it with a punk sensibility and Shane McGowan’s glorious lyrics – had a sold-out gig at the Barrowland Ballroom on Glasgow’s Gallowgate. These three events coinciding could prove the unholiest of all trinities.

The Pogues had previously played Paddy’s Day concerts in New York and London but this was a first for Glasgow. They had already had some celebrated gigs at the Barrowlands, not least the night in 1985 following Jock Stein’s death in Cardiff when the band dedicated the song ‘I’m a Man You Don’t Meet Every Day’ to his memory. There was always a strong representation of Celtic supporters at Pogues concerts in Scotland and beyond. Like the band, many Celtic fans were second-generation Irish (or more) and subjected to the same insulting ‘plastic Paddy’ label. Many of the traditional songs adopted and adapted by The Pogues in their early albums were very familiar to those brought up in Irish/Catholic households in the 1960s and ‘70s including The Auld Triangle, The Leaving of Liverpool and Waxie’s Dargle. Instead of being played at 33 rpm though they sounded sped up to 45 rpm, fuelled by booze, drugs and an anarchic, rebel spirit. Your Granny wouldn’t like these versions of her old favourites never mind mentions of Madrid brothels, junkies, hoors and spewing up in the chapel.

The Pogues were about more than just bevvy and shamrocks though. There was a political and social edge to their music which embraced issues such as homelessness, emigration/immigration and corruption. In 1988 their song The Streets of Sorrow/ Birmingham Six was banned in Britain for alleging that those convicted of the IRA pub bombings in Birmingham and Guildford in the 1970s were in fact innocent. McGowan’s lyric read:

There were six men in Birmingham, in Guildford there’s four

Who were picked up and tortured and framed by the law

And the filth got promotion, but they’re still doing time

For being Irish in the wrong place and at the wrong time.

In October 1989 the Guildford Four (Gerry Conlon, Paddy Armstrong, Paul Hill and Carole Richardson) were released from prison when a miscarriage of justice was finally admitted by the British authorities. The campaign to free the Birmingham Six continued and when Celtic played against Bohemians in Dublin in the summer of 1990, fans from Tyrone unveiled a huge banner in support of the imprisoned men to great acclaim. The pressure was building to remedy this further injustice.

Football, music and drink with a decidedly Irish twist would make for a heady and unique Celtic cocktail. In no time at all, 17th March 1991 in Glasgow would be blessed with a title of its own that would endure for decades to come: The St. Patrick’s Day Massacre.

‘SOME CURSED, SOME PRAYED, SOME PRAYED THEN CURSED . . .’

We flocked to Celtic Park that day more in hope than expectation. After beating Rangers in the Scottish Cup Final in 1989, no trophies had been won the following season. As they then won their second title in succession, Celtic slipped to fifth in the league. Going into this game, we were sitting in fourth position and a third title for The Beast’s side looked in the bag.

Celtic had come into some form recently though, winning 12 points from the last 14 and beating Hibs away the weekend before 2-0. The support knew all too well that this was the last chance of glory this season, having lost the League Cup Final 2-1 to them after extra time in October. We were also the only team likely to stop them winning a Treble for the first time since 1978. This game really mattered.

In the previous seven games against them, Celtic had lost five and only won one – a Scottish Cup encounter the previous February. They were buying more expensive players especially from England while we were stagnating and struggling to hold on to their coat-tails. Hope springs eternal for those clad in emerald though. They had a Maurice Johnston in their team and the desire to beat that turncoat was very, very strong indeed. A decade had passed since they had last won the oldest trophy in world football and the chance to keep that run going – and possibly turn Celtic’s fortunes around at the same time – meant this could be a Paddy’s Day to truly remember for the majority of the 52,868 crowd and thousands more beyond.

The teams that ran out on to Celtic Park were:
Cavaliers v Roundheads

Celtic got off to a blistering start, as unexpected as it was welcome. Two Joe Miller crosses in successions were almost finished off by Tommy Coyne and Gerry Creaney. The Forces of Darkness were on the back foot from the off and this Paddy’s Day got well and truly underway just six minutes into the game. Coyne beat Gough to a floated Wdowczyk free-kick to head the ball into the path of Creaney who blasted a right-foot shot past Woods to send three sides of Celtic Park into green-and-white tumult. It was a beautiful finish.

Five minutes later and Souness – who was enjoying sustained verbal abuse from Celtic fans behind him in the Director’s Box – faced another major setback when Trevor Steven was badly injured in a collision with Maurice Johnston and had to be stretchered off. Celtic fans were dismayed: not at the loss of a talented player so early in the game but that it wasn’t Johnston who was being taken away in an ambulance. To demonstrate their empathy with Steven’s plight as he lay in agony on the turf, fans in The Jungle chanted the timeless favourite ‘Dig a hole and bury him.’ Steven was replaced by winger Pieter Huistra whose main contribution to the day was an attempted shot that was foiled by his own standing leg.

Things were going well. It was 20 minutes before the Bears had as much as a corner to cheer. Referee Andrew Waddell was in charge of his first Glasgow Derby game and seemed reluctant to take action against the persistent fouling of the Rangers warlock Hurlock. Not The View noted that Waddell was “a pathologist by profession and about to witness some pretty pathological behaviour from Souness’ stiffs.”

37 minutes in, another Hurlock foul resulted in a free-kick but still no yellow card. Up stepped our sole Pole, Shuggie. Incredibly, despite starting his run from what looked like the half-way line, Wdowczyk decided to go for goal. His venomous shot flew towards the two-man Rangers wall of Hateley and Johnson who manfully jumped out of its way. The ball had picked up even more momentum when it reached the opposition box where Hurlock stuck out a leg – and the whole stadium watched on aghast as the re-directed ball arched over the out-stretched hand of Woods and into the empty net behind. This was sensational – and hilarious! Celtic Park erupted in glee. We were two up and coasting it.
Darius Wdowzcyk hits Celtic’s second goal all the way from the Celtic End

The boys in blue were not enjoying the atmosphere of a St Patrick’s Day party in Paradise. First, Walters was booked for a foul on Coyne and Judas Johnson also went into Waddell’s wee book for dissent. As the players left the field at half-time with Celtic’s 2-0 lead intact, it was the turn of the Rangers’ keeper to get a yellow card for further dissension. The pressure was beginning to tell.

We were very suspicious of anything that looked like a new dawn though, given the recent experiences of Billy McNeill’s side. Everything had to be fought for all over again in the second half to send the Billy Boys out of the cup. History anoraks pointed out that they hadn’t won a Scottish Cup tie at Celtic Park since 1905. But with Celtic, even at this early stage of the 1990s, anything was possible.

The second half started with Celtic to the fore. That Huistra shot mentioned earlier was the cause of much derision but their attacks became more frequent and threatening. In the 54th minute Johnson went scurrying after a ball played through the heart of the Celtic defence and Peter Grant brought Flymo crashing to the ground with a professional foul. It looked as though The Pointer might get sent off but the referee showed leniency with a yellow card. We heaved a massive sigh of relief. We needn’t have bothered. Within seconds there were howls of despair as Grant came running out of the Celtic wall ridiculously early to block the free-kick and received a red card for his gross stupidity. It was the first time that day that the dregs and scourings of filthy slumdom otherwise known as the away support had something significant to cheer.

With a man down, Celtic looked shaky for the first time despite the two-goal advantage. A familiar feeling of foreboding crept in amongst the Celtic support until fate intervened – or rather hairy Hurlock did. After Tommy Coyne had challenged him in the air, the former Millwall hard man decided to get his retaliation in immediately by smashing his arm into Coyne’s face. Right in front of the referee. It was astonishingly bad judgment from an astonishingly bad-tempered player. As the Celtic fans jeered his long walk off he was met with the pleasant refrain of ‘Terry Hurlock – you’re a wanker! You’re a wanker!’ These were simpler times.

Paul Elliott was having one of his greatest games in a Celtic jersey. He was immense, standing up to the aerial and elbow-led challenges of Hateley, winning everything in the air. In the 70th minute he took the full force of a fierce Ferguson drive in the face. It looked as though he would have to go off as he spat out blood but he simply went to the touchline, got some treatment, changed out of his blood-splattered hoops and then returned to the battle. Somewhat ironically, his next challenge from Hateley when returning to the field again came in the form of a leading elbow and, finally, referee Waddell decided to book the English striker. There was a comical moment when Hateley refused the referee’s instruction to come to him, insisting that Waddell walk over to him instead, which he promptly did. Safe to say that the tempers of some were starting to fray a bit.

Celtic still had the two-goal cushion and it was now 10-men apiece. Composure was key. Someone failed to tell Mark Walters though. He had began to wage a one-man war on Tommy Coyne. He had bizarrely escaped censure for blasting a loose ball at Coyne and, a few minutes later, Coyne won a crunching tackle against him which he clearly didn’t enjoy. The winger’s response was to have not one but two kicks at the Celtic man, with both missing their target and Coyne coming away with the ball in spite of Walters’ cartoonish efforts to stop him. When he finally caught up it was the swipe of a Walters elbow that brought Coyne crashing down: again, right in front of the referee.

It meant marching orders for a second Currant Bun with only ten minutes of the game left. You could almost make out St Patrick’s laughter from above. We were home and dry surely? Well just to be sure, Mark Hateley decided to throw a punch or two in the direction of Anton Rogan in the 82nd minute. Anton saw yellow, Hateful saw red – and Celtic Park was green all over! The party on the terracings and in the Main Stand was now in full swing as a new song for the special occasion roared out from The Jungle and spread around: ‘Happy Birthday Saint Patrick – Happy Birthday to you!’ It may even have been initiated by The Pogues themselves. Although official guests of Celtic and treated to a corporate meal in the Main Stand before the game, the band stood in The Jungle to watch the massacre unfold along with half of the Guildford Four (Conlon and Armstrong) as Spider Stacy recalled on Twitter in 2020: ‘Hilarious, the Celtic fans were roaring with laughter.’
Cheerio! Cheerio! Cheerio!

The game continued but victory for the good guys was now assured. Gerry Creaney missed a couple of decent chances. The eight Rangers left on the field were simply intent on not losing any more goals. The party atmosphere was lifted by the appearance of more yellow cards beings shown to Judas and Nisbet.

In the final minutes the real Boys In Blue poured on to the away terracing to stem the traditional pitch invasion that was a popular feature of the era when Rangers were losing in the Glasgow Derby. Perhaps the Angry Bears were simply reacting to the sound of their old favourite ‘The Billy Boys’ blasting around the other three sides of the ground but with the words replaced with mock laughter? It had all proven too much for them just as it had for their players that day as their treble dream died a death in Paradise.

The hilarity didn’t end there. At the post-match conference, Souness told the media: “I would like to apologise for the lack of discipline on the part of my team. I never thought I would see the day they would display such indiscipline.” Coming from one of the most ill-disciplined and dirtiest players in the history of European football, this was irony in its truest form. The Beast’s mood didn’t improve much the following weekend when the teams met again at Celtic Park on Palm Sunday in a league fixture with Celtic winning 3-0 (and yet another Currant Bun enjoying an early bath) in what would prove the last time Souness would take charge of a Glasgow Derby.

Two goals, four red cards and seven bookings was quite a tally, prompting journo Jim McLean to write in the Daily Express: “Celtic yesterday celebrated a St Patrick’s Day massacre of their arch enemies after an afternoon of Scottish Cup shame and disgrace for Rangers.” Now, that sounds catchy! The Rangers players had certainly got into the spirit of the occasion, forming a St Patrick’s Day Parade of their own up the Celtic Park tunnel in the second half.

Celtic had been on the front foot throughout, first to almost every ball and overwhelming a Souness team for the first time in a long time. McStay and Collins dominated the midfield. Creaney and Coyne linked up superbly up front and took all the punishment dished out by the Rangers defence without any retaliation and little protection. Like the rest of the Celtic team, they were full of desire and commitment but it was matched with restraint. The celebrations that followed were anything but restrained . . .
Tom & Gerry celebrate St Paddy’s Day in Paradise

‘COME ALL YOU RAMBLING BHOYS OF PLEASURE

AND LADIES OF EASY LEISURE . . .’

We squeezed out of the Celtic End and along Janefield Street before forming part of the massed joyous ranks heading doon the Gallowgate in search of refreshment to honour the great saint and Gerry Creaney’s right foot. I am sure we were in Heilan Jessies and at least one other East End establishment before somehow getting into Baird’s Bar. Wherever we went rumours abounded that the band had been there just before we arrived. Certainly from the recollection of various band members some may have been in those pubs before the gig however they were lucky to make it to the Gallowgate at all, as Spider Stacy remembered:

We had got into this minibus after the game and we drove through this mob of Rangers fans, all with their scarves and colours. Gerry Conlon said to Paddy Armstrong: ‘Lean out the window and give us a verse of the Bold Fenian Men, why don’t you?’ Paddy was not the kind of guy to cause trouble but duly stuck his head out of the window – and we were like: ‘Noooooooo Paddy! Not just yet anyway – wait until we have some clear road ahead of us!

The number of our party grew and grew in Baird’s. There were streams of whisky of course (and streams of a wholly different kind to contend with in Baird’s notorious toilet) and flowing pints of the black stuff and the atmosphere was building again after the highs of the afternoon. It then quickly became apparent that there weren’t as many tickets for the gig as was first thought. A list was produced. Not everyone had pre-booked a ticket – including yours truly. As the concert was sold out the idea that turning up at Baird’s meant you’d be guaranteed entry next door disappeared faster than a tray of drinks.

I was left hoping against hope that some of the boys who had the foresight to book a ticket through the club wouldn’t turn up. Eventually, as drinks were finished and more and more of the group headed next door from the still-heaving Baird’s, it was slowly dawning on me that I was going to miss out on the party of a lifetime. I couldn’t have felt more miserable than if I’d just watched my team get knocked out the Scottish Cup by our greatest rivals and suffered the ignominy of ending up with only eight players in the process.

Somewhere, somehow, someone (St Patrick?) took pity and a Willy Wonka-style golden ticket appeared magically as I was drowning my sorrows – although it was green with shamrocks and cost a mere £10, it somehow survived the night intact). In no time at all I was hammering my way up the staircase into the famous Ballroom.

It was just like being at the game. Everyone was wearing Celtic or Ireland jerseys and scarves and hats and still celebrating as if the team had only just left the pitch. The Pogues’ accordionist James Fearnley remembers the Barrowlands crowd as being ‘laced together by green and white Celtic scarves.’

The Derry writer Eamon McCann was there that night to do a gig review for the Irish magazine Hot Press:

The Barrowlands, once we’d shouldered our way through the hundreds outside who couldn’t get in, seemed at first sight more like a celebration rally for some famous Celtic victory than any sort of gig at all. Of the three thousand jammed in almost solid, overwhelmingly male, about fifteen hundred seemed to sport some Celtic favour, green and white stripes around the head or the waist or held high, aloft, to sway in time to the chorus: ‘If you know! The his-tor-ee!’

There was a massive roar as the band took to the stage. A bearded McGowan and Spider Stacy looked a mirror image of the crowd, standing bedecked in Celtic scarves. They held up a banner that proclaimed ‘No Huns At Hampden’ much to the crowd’s amusement – and then we were off. The music came crashing down, the crowd lunged forward then back, back then forward and this absolutely blissful Celtic cacophony was underway.

I would be lying if I said I could remember the order of the songs or even which songs were played. It wasn’t the kind of night to stand back and enjoy the musicianship. This was a party and heaven help you if you couldn’t keep up. I think Streams of Whiskey might have been the opener. There are vague memories of If I Should Fall from Grace with God and The Broad Majestic Shannon. There was no respite when a song finished because, as McCann noted, ‘Every space between songs in the set was filled by some Celtic chorus’ and it felt treacherous to the Celtic cause not to join in. Some respite finally came during Summer of Siam.

I don’t think I’ve ever come as close to melting. The heat and the sweat in the Barras that night was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The ceiling was glistening and it wasn’t just the famed stars. At times it was a struggle to catch a breath amidst the mayhem of the seething mass. Everyone was dancing – if you could call it that – but it mostly felt like one gigantic goal celebration set to different bits of music. I almost wanted it to end just to make sure I’d survive the experience of getting crushed during The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn. But then the adrenaline would take over again. The joy of watching what had unfolded at Celtic Park that day; the pain of the Great Unwashed on the terracing opposite; the overwhelming feeling of solidarity that came from watching this band on that stage on this day in a part of the world where the Irish would never be universally accepted no matter what. But here we came, here we stayed and here we celebrated the fact our identity would never be diluted. Among our own. It was pure Poguetry in motion among the throng.

The music did finally stop. But not for long. The Barrowlands crowd virtually dragged The Pogues back on stage not once, not twice but for THREE encores! The few minutes that Sally McLennane lasted during one of those encores will forever be up there as one of the great moments in life. It was beyond chaos. If the spirit of the The Pogues could have been captured and bottled, there and then in the centre of that famous ballroom was where the still should have been set up.

One of the great mysteries of the modern world is who actually appeared with The Pogues that famous night. No two people will give you the same answer. Bridgeton Bhoy Frankie Miller was definitely on stage at some point and he may have sung his hit song Darlin’. I long thought I saw Joe Strummer and Kirsty MacColl on backing vocals but no-one backs that up. There were certainly Celtic players present: Paul McStay was autographing match tickets for the band backstage but did he and any of the other conquering heroes appear in front of an adoring audience for the second time that day? The evidence is inconclusive.

They were all up there for the finale, an uproarious version of The Irish Rover. It was announced that, unbelievably, among the number crowding round the mikes was Paddy Hill. He was one of the Birmingham Six released from prison just three days earlier after 16 years spent in custody for a crime which no-one truly believed he had committed. The campaign had succeeded. Justice, of a sort, had been done. And here he was among us, enjoying freedom at last. He received one of the biggest roars of the whole day. Eamon McCann wrote: “We ended with the wildest Irish Rover you ever did hear. And oh, how the wild wind drove us.”

It was finally all over and our sweat-drenched bodies were cast out into a freezing cold and wet night to endure a long walk back through the Gorbals to the southside and a floor or a sofa if you were lucky. It was a day that stands alone in a lifetime of wonderful Celtic memories. At its centre was a band who had made Paddy’s Day virtually their own and conquered Glasgow for good measure. McCann nailed it: ‘I’ve heard arguments and banter occasionally as to whether the Pogues are most accurately described as an Irish band or an English band or an Anglo-Irish band or whatever. They are none of these things. The Pogues are a Glasgow band.’

Celtic had won amongst a flurry of red cards, The Pogues had laid claim to Glasgow as their own and the St Patrick’s Day Massacre was now a matter of historical record in the second city of the Empire. Irishness had rarely been celebrated with such blissful fervour. It is true and the great man himself knew it: all good things come in threes.

——————–

Now this song is nearly over

We may never find out what it means

Still there’s a light I hold before me

And you’re the measure of my dreams, the measure of my dreams

Shane McGowan 1957 – 2023

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In gratitude to the three great Arthurian legends: Guinness, Griffith and O’Loan