Tales from Seville – Short Miscellaneous

Following are stories and tales collected from the forums of the memories and experiences from Seville. If you have any to add, then feel free to do so.

Another wee story that always makes me smile is a Seville one . I was with a group of mates , how we found each other that day is still beyond me, all on different flights and with every mobile service provider falling on its arse because of the enormous traffic . Anyway we manged to get together just off the Cathedral square . A lane which split into three with a few pubs on the corners . As you can imagine it was pretty packed both Celts and Porto fans mixing freely . A wee lad was running threw the crowd and tripped almost landing on a bottle , his very “Hot” Mum let out a scream . There was obviously a bit of a scare . Well a few of the lads disappeared and came back with big plastic wheelie bins and everybody helped clear and clean the area.

About ten minutes later another posse of Tims appeared all carrying those huge brown bottles of beer . One of the boys stopped and put an empty bottle on the kerb, to which the cry went up ” Ho you ya carrot can you know see we just tidied up in here!”
(by JTH of KStreet forum)

I flew out for the day and back that night. We’d been enjoying the san miguel all day and I’d never had one of those 1 litre screwtops out of my hand at any point. We got into the ground just before kick off and after about 5mins at my seat I was busrtin for a leak. But the game had kicked off so I bolted to the loo and phoned my mum on my mobile. My folks had a huge party back home with lots of friends and family. When the phone rang 5mins into the game they couldn’t believe someone would be calling during the game. There was lots of shouting that it must be one of their bluenose friends who didn’t realise what was on. When she answered and it was me in the toilet, at the stadium, asking for a commentary, the whole place fell about laughing. So for the next 60 seconds my mum gave me live commentary while I tried not to pish down my leg, before I sprinted back to the seat. Class day, and I was sitting beside a group of bhoys from Cumbernauld who were all a great laugh.

Another highlight of the day was a rather inebriated Davie Hay, grabbing my head between his hands, and with a mad looks in his eyes, saying ‘BELIEVE’ to me, before walking off. Very weird, but very cool.

Also, sawpping my scarf for a Betis scarf with the owner of a tapas bar we were in, and the guy making me pose for photos with his wife and daughter (who both would have got it btw (and I mean in a good way, not in the hun way of smashing up their car while they’re sitting in it))

Happy days. When I think back to that and what went on in manchester, I’m so glad I’m a tim. If they are ‘tha peepul’ then I’m bloody glad I’m not.
(Roman Abtimovich of KStreet)

I was working on my ship when we beat Boavista and was due to be still onboard by the time of the final. By a stroke of luck we ended up going to Santander in the North of Spain. I begged to be allowed to go and arranged flights from Santander to Madrid then Seville and bought a ticket off the internet for an extortionate amount of money.

(Teuchterbhoy of KStreet forum)

– Buchanan Street Bus Station > London Victoria
– Underground > London City Airport
– Realise London City Airport is not a hub airport, is actually closing at night so we can’t crash in the waiting lounge ….
– London City Airport > walk to expensive hotel for 1 night only (breakfast buffet almost worth it)
– London City Airport > Frankfurt International Airport **
– Frankfurt – Madrid: stay in a hostel in Madrid, with the pleasant surprise of an Irish bar being 20 yards away
– Madrid – Seville on high speed train!
– (and the same on the way back)

Just wonderful.

** Here we encountered THE most drunk Celtic fan in one of the airport bars, the German barman just kept telling him “but sir your flight haz bin called” …. Celtic fan, astride a bar stool, has his head down on the bar, with his right arm raised and his index finger upright, and repeats over and over, “jushhh wan moar, barman. Jush wan moar!”
(riclaroc of KStreet forum)

Lots of good stories, they’ve triggered so many memories I might as well share them.

Two of us went by car to Luton, incorperating a sunday stopover in Leeds with some of the Wim the Tim CSC lads. Banging hangover/still drunk at 7am leaving Leeds on the monday, strobing vision the works. M1 shut, thought we’d never get to Luton in time, got there 2 min before check-in closed for our flight to Faro! Then it was delayed for two hours which enabled us to recuperate a bit for the flight. Hail Hail brokeout in the plane as we landed st Faro. Lots of posh feckers on their way to golf courses in the algarve looking down their noses, but what the hell did we care..?

next day drove to Seville in a wee Yaris hire car, camped about 4 miles out of Seville (bad mistake camping as the temperature in the tent reached about 140F at about 9 in the morning!)
I’d said to my mate on the way that there would be some poor unsuspecting foreign tourists in Seville for a city break who would know nowt about the imminant invasion. Ten minutes sat outside a bar and ‘look there’s some’, a couple with a map looking completely bewildered, gazing at the green and white hordes that were massing even then.
Big party at the cathederal on tuesday night, locals showing their weans the crowds, swapped my scarf with a wee laddie for his Seville one which is still hanging on my garage wall. (along with some

Got into seville early afternoon the next day, a sea of hoops everwhere you looked, brought a tear to my eye. The over-riding memory of that day was the good naturedness of it all, locals genuinely amazed and pleased that all these folk had came to their city in such good humour. The Porto fans were excellent too, although rather puzzled by various Celts stumbling and fake tripping up in front of them and sprawling on the pavement after the game.

We didn’t have tickets so watched it on the big screen over the river, gave everyone around me a beer shower when the first goal went in, no one seemed to mind. Gutted at the finish, but really really proud of the team and fans. My travelling companion Kenny got a full page picture on page three of the Record of him kneeling greeting at the final whistle. I always thought his sister would have made a better candidate for a page three picture but that’s another story.

We drank all night, unable to get really drunk. We were ordering pints of wine at about 4 in the morning. We had a bit of help staying awake mind , and eventually stopped about 7am.
Kenny decided it wasn’t worth us going to bed and we should set out for the algarve as soon as we got back to the tent (140F mind, so no point trying to sleep.)
On the way back to the campsite we met a guy who looked a bit cheesed off, it turns out his mates had left him with no money, cards or passport. ‘Hard lines mate, where have they gone?’ ‘Albufira’ says he. ‘you’re in luck, that’s where we’re headed, do you want a lift?’ He eyed us up, us obviously steaming, swaying about ‘are you leaving now?’ he asked increduously… He obviously thought it was worth the risk and took us up on our offer. He lay curled up on the backseat all the way to the Algarve, thinking it would be a bonus if he got there I’d imagine.
Kenny drove flat out (107mph is the absolute max from a Yaris) all the way, strangely i’ve never felt safer in a car!
On arrival in Faro we got caught up in the roadworks around the new stadium construction site. I woke up from my intermittant dozing to find Kenny had nodded off and the traffic had moved about 300yrds up the road in front. At least he’d stayed awake when we were moving.

Another night on the piss, and back to Blighty, best holiday ever, apart from the scunner of losing the league that weekend.

Seville will stay with me forever. Feels nowhere near like five years ago.
(nearly neil lennon of Kstreet forum)

Myself, Chiz & Bates went to Seville.

14 hour ferry trip (with a few beers) got us to Aberdeen on Monday morning. Flight to London then to Madrid. Uneventful.

Monday afternoon fast train to Seville. Met 3 young ladies who shared the journey with us. Drank the train dry of beer long before Cordoba, finished the journey on whisky and coke.

Monday night in Seville reasonably subdued, getting the bearings etc, quite a few beers mind.

Tuesday walkabout early, few beers. Bates in shorts and shoes wasn’t hitting the fashion high spots and it’s fair to say he wasn’t fighting off the senoritas. He got hit on by a shoe-shine guy who insisted on polishing his shoes as we sat outside a cafe. Then demanded a tenner for doing it. Bates not pleased. Del & Chiz creased up. Shoe-shine guy then tried polishing Chiz’s trainers. Was requested to GTF, nicely.

On to Flaherty’s for the day – lots of beer in the baking heat. Craic superb.

Party in the Park at night – Prado de San Sebastien (I think). Charlie & the Bhoys superb. We were first to dive in the fountain – definate health hazard. Blagged my way on stage to take photos of the crowd. Met Caesar backstage and got him to autograph my top. Way too much beer.

Wednesday bought a ticket from the Western Union office. 500 euros, I know, I know but couldn’t chance missing the game. Anyway, the kids will have birthdays next year.

Flaherty’s, more beer, match, singing with the fans etc etc Fantastic – so proud to watch the team take to the park.

Lost mates after the match. Met an Irishman on the bridge before the hotel who was trying to find O’Neill’s. Told him to go to Flaherty’s, big party, good craic etc. He said, not a word of a lie, “me feckin car is outside O’Neill’s”.

Thursday train to Madrid, taxi from station to airport crashed into the side of another car, they never even stopped, lots of Spanish possible sweary words exchanged. BA upgrade to Club Class for the flight to Heathrow, nice one.

Flight to Aberdeen uneventful. Baggage didn’t come with us so after showers in the Aberdeen hotel meant pulling on the same sweaty clothes that we’d travelled from Seville in. Not nice.

Ferry home on Friday night, more beer, home on Saturday.

Auctioned the signed top for charity at a function on Saturday night and raised £330.

One of the best weeks of my life. (Del of Kstreet forum)

Even though we lost, I still count it as the greatest privilege of my Celtic-supporting life to have been in the ground that night. It was in many ways the club’s coming-of-age moment, post-1994, and the ultimate reward for those of us who suffered through the misery years, which spanned more or less my entire adolescence. On the way to Seville, I remember every now and then I’d repeat to myself that “We’re going to a European final. We’re going to a European final. We’re going to a bloody European final!”

By the time we arrived at the stadium that night I was positively manic, in a state of high excitement, anxiety and anticipation the likes of which I’ve never experienced under any circumstances before or since. The game actually flew by, but the days afterward unfolded like the mother of all collective hangovers as we slowly wound our way back home for the following weekend’s title-deciding clashes, which in my heart of hearts I had already resigned myself to losing – there was no way the hun wouldn’t steamroll Dunfermline at home, and really, it had all been about landing that Euro Vase in time to render any domestic celebrations for the hun completely and utterly redundant.

I bought the Road to Seville DVD a few months later because I felt the victories en route were still absolutely worth cherishing, and I’ve gone back a few times to watch it. Larsson’s goal at Ewood, Hartson’s in Vigo, Sutton for the third in the opening fifteen minutes in Stuttgart and of course, Larsson’s against Boavista, all send shivers down the spine to this day. Having not seen a second of the final on film until then, I watched it all the way through the end, once, a few months after buying it. Never since, and don’t suppose I will again.
(il Cattivo of KStreet forum)

McVittie’s Tollcross site when we got to Seville

The week before the final the nightshift celtic supporters got a barrel of biscuit mix and spread it accross part of the car park to look like sand, they also brought in a couple of deckchairs, kiddies paddling pool, beach balls, towels, sunglasses etc etc. 15 mins before their shift ended they changed into beachwear went into the car park and started using the stuff they had brought in with them.
(OverAndOver of the KDS forum)

Living in London and having given up my season ticket the year before as I just wasn’t using it, I thought there was no way i would ever get a ticket for the game.

Cue the week before the final, and our main manufacturing supplier contacting me and asking if I would like to go out to the final. They had arranged a trip through a travel company which included a business class flight to Madrid, stay over on the Tuesday, drive to Seville on Wednesday morning and the all important match ticket.
Knew it was totally unprofessional to accept, so went to my chairman to explain. He told me not to be stupid, and bite their hand off.

Got to Heathrow at lunchtime on the Tuesday, and the session began in the BA business lounge. Alan Brazil was on the same flight, so we shared a beer in the lounge.
On arrival in Madrid, we dropped the bags at the hotel and headed out for a bite to eat. As we were walking into the old Town, the strains of Fields Of Athenry could be heard. Forgetting our rumbling stomachs, we followed the noise and found a crowd of Celts partying hard. it turned into a late night, but we knew we had to be on the road early next morning so made our apologies and left.

5 hours later, and we were in the car on the way to Seville. I had arranged to call my uncle when i got there, and also my friends who were flying in from NY that morning. However, on arrival just before midday in Seville, my phone signal decided to cease working as did my friends. We decided to head for the centre and surely we would bump into them!! Fat chance. We found the nearest bar and commenced with making friends of the locals and teaching them a few songs. I can honestly say, having been all around the world watching football and having attended many World Cups and other amazing sporting occasions, I had never experienced anything like it. The hairs on my neck stand up now just thinking about it.

About three in the afternoon the bar we were in ran out of beer. We decided to move on but the next two bars had also run out. Cue thousands of unhappy punters who were desperate to quench their thirsts in the tropical heat. The barman told us they were waiting on a delivery of more beer, and when the lorry turned up it could hardly make it through because of the hordes bownig down before it. The driver was in fits of laughter, as were the locals around us.

Just before 4pm, my phone suddenly worked and I received a message from my US friends that they were in town and we could meet at 5pm in front of a hotel they knew. We jumped in a cab, and when we arrived we had to run the guantlet of a large police presence. After explaining we were meeting some friends, they let us through. When we got to the front door, there was andy roxburgh and michel platini. Had a few photos taken, and due to the excessive sweating caused by 120 degree heat, wearing a kilt, all day drinking and being Scottish, i left a big sweat mark down Platini’s back! Serves him right.

We met up with my friends and had a couple of drinks. Suddenly it was time to start moving towards the stadium which was a fair distance over the bridge. We started to walk but then the combination of tiredness and heat got to us. Cue hailing a horse and cart and getting them to take us to the stadium.

My abiding memory of the game was just walking into the stadium and seeing a sea of green and white. Don’t think I have ever been so surprised by one team dominating the support in this way since Ireland v Italy in NY ’94. The game seemed to fly by, and then it was the realisation that we had come up short. The pain was terrible, but the pride and appreciation from the support carried you through.

We ended up having a couple of drinks in the city and then had to sleep in the car overnight before driving back to Madrid.

An experience I will never forget, and really proud to have been part of it.

(bigron68 of KDS)

I was standing at the bar in that hotel and Mourinho walked past pushing a big blackboard with all chalked arrows pointing to big Bobo, was more surprised to see the arrows weren’t pointing to Henrik than seeing Mourinho, said to my brother who was booked in for a pre match Champagne reception if the Porto team were staying there and he said probably pointing to Roy Aitken and Davie Moyes who were standing right beside us waiting to get served at the bar. Having slept on a park bench after getting threw out of my own hotel the night before i asked him where i could get a quick shower and he pointed me towards the poolside and sauna area, after a quick shower i wandered to the pool in search of my sister-in-law who i thought would be a cert to be sun-bathing and to my surprise she wasn’t but i did notice Paul McStay and Roy Keane lounging about. heading back to the bar i noticed a film crew chasing Rod Stewart around.

Time to head up to the match and about a dozen of us left early and the Porto fans are gathered outside the hotel watching the team going on their bus with loads of Celtic fans giving them pelters,

It must have been nearer midnight by the time i got out of the stadium and with nowhere to stay i headed back to the hotel which was just over the big bridge and near the stadium, the rest of our crew must have had the same idea and we all met up again at the bar to drown our sorrows, a few of them were talking about finding a place to get their heads down and remembering the massive sauna rooms i knew exactly where i would be staying that night and invited them all down, by this time is was about 2 in the morning and with the bar still open no one was for leaving yet.

Having not ate all day i wandered off in search of grub and found the Porto team celebrating in a cordoned off area of the hotel, hunger got the better of me and i made a space and grabbed handfuls of the finest food i had probably ever seen, i can remember grabbing a big lobster by the claw and headed back to the bar telling them all look what i found, needless to say we all headed over to join the Porto team in their celebration but they weren’t for it and got up and left leaving us to finish off what was left of the finest wines & champagne.

In the morning we headed from the sauna suite back to the bar to order breakfast and more drink but by this time they had tippled to us and threw us all out
(four-leaf clover of KDS forum)

I lived in Jersey at the time and watched it in Scruffy Murphys, where I had watched almost all of the euro run (only missed Liverpool away I think).

I had a half day from work and remember just feeling incredibly nervous all day. I decided on the spur of the moment to take up smoking again that day after giving it up a couple of years before and managed to burn through 18 ciggies in that torturous 120 minutes. I haven’t had another since.

I quite clearly remember the despair when Porto took the lead as they were clearly an excellent side. When Henrik equalized for the second time I have this tremendous clear memory of standing perfectly still with both arms up whilst absolute mayhem ensued around me, its one of the most clear memories I have of all of my time supporting Celtic. I went for a piss about 4 minutes into injury time and just heard noise from the bar, I knew something had happened and I could guess it wasn’t great, but it was still so devastating to see that iconic image of Bobo sitting distraught in the tunnel when it appeared.

Jersey had (probably still does) a high percentage of Portuguese people and having to see Porto supporters on my lonely trek home proved very difficult. When I got in I picked up a four pack from the fridge and headed down to the beach to finish my 20 deck of regal, drink my cans and reflect on another glorious failure, thinking that next year we would likely go one better. Great times, but I still haven’t seen the match again, I honestly don’t think I ever will.

(Franklin McAvennie of KDS Forum)

Travelled to Seville via Albufeira, it was just off season there (though over 30 degrees which was great). I can recall being in a bar known as Father Ed’s the night before the game drinking tequila-absinthe shots which were fine until you tried to move from the barstool.

Spent the day of the final drinking or seeking water frantically, and saving my mate’s dad who we met in town from trying to tell off a mounted Policia who looked intent on trampling anyone he could outside the stadium.

I was disappointed that we were out-chanted by the Portuguese whose numbers we dwarved, perhaps they saved their energies for the game better or there was a fair few Celts without tix that should have been there instead of others who were not regular visitors to Parkhead.

Almost forgot, I was the only one awake on the bus going home as it was to Portugal and due to tiredness and I believe absinthe inspired delirium Glen Daly singing The Celtic Song was repeating in a remix-style loop. I love that song but was near going off my head and had to go straight to bed as soon as we reached the hotel

(Pussyfoot of KDS forum)

I went to every game that year except Suduva. Managed to get a ticket for Blackburn through the ballot, absolute madness down there. I had a contact in Manchester who got me 4 tickets for the Blackburn end as well. Once the bus got to Blackburn we got a taxi to Manchester to collect them and then take us back. My Missus took one of the Blackburn end tickets and to this day says it is the best game she has been to. Men against Bhoys, feck off Souness.

Celta Vigo away was brilliant. Not long after a disaster at sea and the Celtic fans made a donation to one of their charities. Booze and food were great. Missed Big John’s goal as I was in the toilet doing a dump. What a feeling when the final whistle went knowing that we were on Europe after Christmas and another trip was on the cards.

Stuggart away was a brilliant trip. We booked with Harry Hynds and ended up buying tickets off some German guy on line for 55 euros. We ended up getting Celtic end tickets though, again bedlam after the first five minutes but shampooting myself for the last ten. Missus was with me again and I remember going back the hotel to put our bags on the bus and their was a rebel band in the hotel. Also remember that when we were on the bus some old guy at the front of the bus was singing Elvis, I Can’t help falling I love with you. Everyone joined in and the bus was bouncing.

Both Liverpool games were fantastic. The Walk On at Parkhead was top drawer, then Henke did the damage after coming back from injury. My Missus worked in a hotel in the city centre then and one of the residents was a Liverpool fan who starte talking to her about the game. She phones me and says that he offered her £300 for both our tickets. We had a wee thing going with one of the stewards at the time, he would let us double my mate’s wean up and we would give him a couple of bottles during the season. I tell her that I will meethim outside the superstore and give him the tickets for £300. Meet him, his name was Glenn, and tell him I will give him the £300 back the following week if he gets us 2 tickets for the Liverpool End. 2 days later get a call saying he has them and arrange to meet in the Liverpool Supporters Club. He gets me the 2 tickets and I give him the £300 and the rest is history. We were sitting in the bottom tier close to the corner flag where Big John scored. What sticks in my mind about that is when the Liverpool fans left how many Celtic fans there were all over the stadium. There must have been at least 6000 easy, how we all managed to get tickets is something that will lalways stay with me. This is when I statred to believe that we could actually win it.

Boavista at home. They were so fecking boring. Hated the fact the the game was an early kick off, definitely took away some of the atmosphere you get when it’s dark and the floodlights are on. Hated the fact tha Henke missed a penalty and the shameful booing of Lenny when keeping possession. The thing that sticks in my mind about this night most is when we got back to the pub and the Porto-Lazio semi was on Eurosport. Before the game everyone would have preferred Porto but they gave Lazio a right going over, 4-1 I think.

Boavista away was another over night trip with Harry Hynds. Got a ticket through a friend who couldn’t make it. Henke scored my favourite goal of all time. I am not ashamed to say that I was greeting like a big wean that night. When I phoned the missus shenwas greeting as well. I have never felt emotion like that in my life since, apart for the birth of my son. i have been to 60 European trips and nothing can compare to the feeling when the final whistle went. i was also off my work the next day and kept getting text messages telling me to buy the Daily Star and go to page 3. There I was, a full page picture of me drinking from a bottle of vodka. Canny believe I made it onto page 3 before the missus. On another point as much as Big Rab took stick for the final he was top drawer that night and Liverpool as well.

Not going to dwell too much about Seville as everybody has so many stories to tell. Great week in the Algarve for 8 of us in a villa. We all had tickets so nothing to worry about other than the game. Never been so gutted and proud as I was when we left the stadium, especially after hearing us sing Over and Over. Again not ashamed to say I cried that night, again with the Missus. At 2 each thought we had it in the bag but the poor decision making and terrible refereeing decisions cost us. The walk from the stadium to the city centre was the quietest I have ever known the support, totally shattered and emotionally drained.

To finish off, that season was the best I have ever experienced. Sorry if I have went on a bit but anybody who was there will understand how much that run meant to us. For that team no to win a trophy that year was such a shame.

Hail Hail

(ants 1967 of KDS forum)