It was a roasting hot day at Hampden, the sun kissing the pitch and the atmosphere its usual self as Celtic fans trickled into the ground. This semi-final clash against Aberdeen promised to be a memorable one, and it didn’t disappoint, well, if you’re a neutral. Unfortunately, due to the way the ballots work and ticketing for semi finals happen, I found myself standing alone, away from my the usual company I have for Celtic games, but the buzz around the stadium was infectious enough to feel connected to everyone around me.
The teams walked out, the Bhoys formed their huddle, but little did I know the emotional rollercoaster that awaited me and 30,000 fellow Celtic fans.
The game started with a jolt. Just two minutes in, Aberdeen’s Bojan Miovski struck, and a collective gasp echoed through the stands. It was an early blow, but not a fatal one. In the second minute, there’s still a whole match to play, and while there was slight concern in the stands, Celtic had been here before. There was plenty of time to get back into the game.
And come back they did. Nicholas Kuhn’s equaliser brought a wave of relief and optimism. The belief surged that Celtic would now assert their dominance after a shaky start. Aberdeen had nothing to lose, this was their last stand in a season which saw them finish in the bottom six. No full time manager, no chance of a European place, this was everything to them, and it showed.
The match ebbed and flowed as both sides failed to grab the initiative. Enter James Forrest, the winger who had played very little football for most of the season took around three minutes to make his mark, the Celtic stalwart curled in a beauty to put the Hoops ahead, it felt like destiny. Relief washed over us; surely, we were on our way to the final.
But football is rarely so straightforward. When it looked like Celtic would just about escape Hampden with a place in the final Aberdeen’s Ester Sokler leveled the score late on, sinking my heart. The prospect of extra time in the scorching heat, standing as we do at Hampden, was not a welcome prospect, but it was now the reality. As the game stretched into extra time, tension gripped the terraces. As I mulled over the prospect of potential penalties to come, Matt O’Riley thumped the ball into the back of the net, it felt like a final, triumphant exclamation mark on a tough game. The fans erupted once more, voices hoarse but jubilant.
Yet, disaster struck again. Much like the end of the 90 minutes, Aberdeen left us reeling when they would equalise yet again with very little time on the clock, the goal almost identical to the one before. It was almost too much to bear. We had let it slip twice, and the specter of penalties now felt like the favourable outcome. Celtic’s history with penalties is notoriously fraught, and my confidence was shaky at best.
If you think I’m exaggerating, just look back at the footage of Brendan Rodgers on the touchline before the penalty kicks. The Irishman’s usual calm demeanor was replaced by visible passion and a hint of stress. Just ask Stevie the kit man who he scalded for looking like he was giving out penalty advice to Bernardo. Rodgers may have been as stressed as everyone in the stands.
The penalty shootout itself was pure torture. Each kick ratcheted up the anxiety. The first three for each team were scored with a certain amount of confidence. When Ryan Duncan stepped up for Aberdeen for their fourth and missed, the win was in sight once again! Bernardo did his job, despite the kit man’s intervention. Confusion swept the stands when no player came forward from the half way line to take the penalty. Then Joe Hart was handed the ball. Joe Hart, our goalkeeper, was stepping up. Fans were bewildered. “He’s good at penalties,” some shouted around me, but the tension was suffocating. Hart, set to retire at season’s end, had so much on his shoulders. A winning goal from the Englishman would write sensational headlines, a miss and Celtic subsequently losing the penalty shoot out would come with a heavy price. When his shot hit the post, I hurled what was left of my water to the ground in frustration. This wasn’t our day and Celtic had conspired to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory for the third time. Junior Hoilett would step up and score for Aberdeen to make it four a piece out of five.
Sudden death penalties would ensue. Alistair Johnston stepped up and had no room for error, he thankfully hit the back of the net. However Jack Milne would fire straight back. Tomoki Iwata was the next man up for Celtic, he scored a fantastic penalty, easing anxiety momentarily.
Then came the moment of redemption. Hart had another chance to be the hero. From his rightful place between the posts, a save would put Celtic through. This time, Joe guessed the right way for Killian Phillips’ tame effort and the roar from the crowd was deafening, a release of all the pent-up stress, anger and frustration from the last two hours plus of football was evident . Hart’s celebration was muted, a man who knew he had prolonged our agony but also managed to get us over the line.
As the final whistle blew, it wasn’t so much joy as sheer relief. The game had taken everything out of me. I and many others felt like we had played every minute ourselves of the match. The walk back to the car was subdued, fans chatting among themselves about Joe Hart’s penalty and the ordeal we’d all endured.
The usual post-victory banter was missing, replaced by a quiet acknowledgment of just how close we had come to heartbreak. Smattering of songs through the Celtic crowd, but not on a par with what we’d see in the final. Hours and even the day after the game, the mental exhaustion and a little bit of sun burn I picked up felt like an almighty hangover without touching a drop.
A wise man once said ‘Being a Celtic supporter is not always easy, but it is always worthwhile.’ I think we can apply that quote to the Aberdeen classic at Hampden tenfold.
That game would be the platform for a James Forrest renaissance. It would catapult this Celtic team to another level and within weeks of the game, the bhoys were on a trajectory to win the league, despite the usual quarters writing us off.
As for the cup final against Rangers, the week after winning the SPFL title? I’ll give you one last quote from our penalty specialist ‘One-nil, Adam Idah, Up the Tics!.’
