Couldn’t think about anything else ever since the draw against Bayern Munich at Parkhead. We were top of our group and we only needed a draw at Lyon to qualify for the knock-out stages of the CL. A team we had pumped at CP 2-0. The tie didn’t seem beyond us. At least it wouldn’t have done if Mssrs Thompson and Agathe had been available. That was where my main concerns on the day lay – who would replace these guys and what formation would we go for?

On the day of the game itself I had had another sleepless night. Just back from a 9 week stint in America (HELL HOLE!) the previous Saturday my body was still going through the ravages of jet-lag – and no amount of alcohol seemed to be helping. So it was off to Belfast for the 0900 flight to London Stanstead and then a connecting flight to Lyon arriving at 1530.

There were a few tims on the plane from Belfast but it was mostly business folk. It was on arrival at Stanstead that the collection grew quite considerably. And it wasn’t long after getting on the plane to Lyon that the singing started. The French on board looked bemused but everyone was in fine spirits. Talk turned to the game very quickly as there were quite a few bhoys in the same boat as myself – traveling over alone and picking up tickets on arrival – and nothing breaks the ice better amongst fellow tims than buying a brewski and a chat about the game that night. Everyone seemed to be of the same opinion - a tough game ahead especially with the players that were out but if we didn’t let them settle quickly we could do it. Another beer? Cheers mate – what did you say your name was?

We got to Lyon bang on time and even before we made it out of the airport we had some guy asking us for spare tickets. A Scottish guy working for BA – and his luck was in. One of the guys we were traveling with knew a guy who knew a guy – that old story :) Sometimes you just never know. On the bus and in to town.

And this is where the problems started. I had yet to meet the guy who was holding my ticket. He was traveling up from Grenoble with 16 other French-based Tims. So I had a few hours to kill. But I hadn’t a clue about were I was going so I just wandered around trying to get in contact with Mr. Fox but he was as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike so I just kept wandering until an almighty ‘Hail Hail’ was heard coming from down a darkened alley way – my favourite J Follow the singing and into an irish pub teeming with drunken tims. I left a while later and fell in with another crowd and yet again into another irish bar. Again, jammed with Celtic supporters and the place started to rock as one loony in a kilt climbed on to the bar and started to roar out a few tunes. And then it was time to get to the game…still no sign of a ticket.

Now, Celtic supporters in an Irish bar are fine. It’s the environment Celtic supporters thrive in. Its what we do. Celtic supporters let loose in France’s second city, during the Festival of Lights as families hurried around doing Xmas shopping is just asking for a few mirth-filled moments. Crammed on the metro at the busiest time of the evening it was inevitable that the Celtic support was somehow find a way to introduce itself to the local female population. Young, trendy French filles to the older more mature and matronly type (yet still dressed very nicely thank-you-very-much) anything was game and it wasn’t long before there was a lot of ‘Enchante, Mademoiselle’ and hand-kissing going on around me. Derek Trotter would have been proud as the Tims give it all they had. It probably wouldn’t have been too bad except that these guys were amongst Glasgow’s finest – they had the tattoos, they had the missing teeth, they had the scars, they had that short stumpy clumps of grey hair that the guys over 50 seem to specialize in and they had the beery breath…….it was carnage. Between the utterances of ‘defense de fumer, Madame’ and ‘Je voudrais une pie and chips cos am f*cking starvin’ man’ and the singing it wasn’t long before the poor French girls were looking for an early exit from the metro. Still, at least we’re not huns :) 

Got to the Stade de Gerland. The name alone seemed to be a bad omen. Ger Land? Holy Hell. And my main panic of the day was soon over. I was due to pick up my ticket from my mate. Shouldn’t have worried. As soon as I was outside the stadium he sent me a message saying he was at a bar. One chat to a Gendarme later and I had my ticket in my hand. Time to get the bevies in. Even bought a few for the French boys around me to help cement the Celtic vs Lyon relationship (we really are the best aren’t we J). Talk before the game was again on Thompson and Agathe and we were all in good spirits. And then into the ground.

It was immediately obvious that there were pockets of ‘La Resistance Celtique’ all over the ground. There were at least 100 around us but everyone was having a grand old time. We sang, they sang. Everything was going fine…and then the game started.

5 minutes in and I knew we were in for a long night. Lyon pummeled Celtic from the word go. They seemed faster and quicker in passing and movement. Despite having Miller and Petrov in the middle of the park these boys just made us look pedestrian. Gray (who I mistook for Guppy – fat chunky wee bassa that he was) was torn asunder time and time again. When the goal came it was no surprise. When Celtic’s goal came it was a BIG surprise – especially watching it on replay – how the fcuk did BBJ get it through there?. Anyway, we exploded out of our seats. And we held them to half-time. We had been playing a little better after the goal but not much to boost confidence. I just hoped MON worked his magic at half-time and got the bhoys going but no such luck. It was more of the same. When Lyon got their second though we were all stunned. How in the name of Christ did Hedman muff that one?! Alright we were at the other end of the ground but still it should have been an easy collect and looking at the replay Hedman got it completely wrong.

Again Celtic’s equalizer came through a bit of good fortune. Sylla (for once) made a run down to the wing to collect a pass in the channel. This time the Lyon boy muffed it and struck the ball off Sylla for probably the best cross of his life. This was right in front of us and we leapt out of our seats as Sutton went in on it. He still had a lot of work to do from this angle and he slotted it away perfectly. We went crazy as Sutton came sliding right towards our section. But even so, the nagging feeling was there. And when MON made his changes and whipped off Sutton I could have cried. I didn’t know he was injured. But to me if you are going to play for a draw you need a Sutton or BBJ up front to HOLD the ball up when it comes out of defense, otherwise it just comes straight back at you. This is what happened in the 3-2 game at Turin. This was what happened at Lyon. And almost in the exact same fashion.

………but even so, when the penalty did come EVERYBODY was surprised. The players, the fans – the only one who seemed sure was the ref. Bollox.

Another glorious defeat for the Celtic Glasgow. It is getting annoying now. Very annoying. But then, I still hold the fact to my heart that 3 years ago playing on this kind of stage for these kind of stakes was beyond us.

In MON We Trust.