Do You Remember (Saturday 8th March) 1986?

[Seven Tattoos]

First, the pretentious intro bit, like the advertising hoor I am I've decided my autistic, anal reminiscences need a new title, a new image. So, just as the 'North British' spruced itself up and re-named itself after Charles an Camilla's shag-den 'The Balmoral', I've decided to rename Rainman corner after a Pulp song about the first time you got yer hole (Do You Remember The First Time)!

21 years ago today, Saturday 8th March 1986, Scottish Cup quarter final, Hibs 4-3 Celtic. Quite simply the best, the most exciting game of football I have ever attended. And I was at the huns cup semi, the Anderlecht game, the 6-2, the Athens game and other legendary 90 or 120 mins of Hibbie folklore over the past score and one year.

Hibs, after a brief autumn ten game unbeaten run in the league and a Skol Cup final appearance (where a certain 17 year old from Galashiels got a late run-out), were having a poor season. We'd lost three in a row and had even lost 3-1 at Ibrox the previous Saturday, against Jock Wallace Mark 2's inept huns (oh, yes, this was the shite that spawned the Souness revolution). That was actually the late Black n Tan's last win as huns boss. True.

We hadn't beaten Celtic in the Scottish since our last cup final win back in 1902. Even Methuselah's Dad was dead then. Truth was we were being outshadowed by our city cousins. The hated Jambos were on a roll, top of the league, unbeaten for 1874 games (well, since September anyway), and, given that they were at home to Alex Miller's St Mirren on the Sunday, were strongly fancied for the double. Who's Sorry Now, as they say!

I was a lonely teenage rocking buck, with a crap haircut and a tonka-truck, living in Strathaven and the local team, the Mighty Accies (with about a million former Hibs players, John Brogan, Kevin McKee, Willie Jamieson) were storming the First Division. Indeed, hertz had been veh luckah indeed to win at Douglas Park in the 4th round. I'd been to see 'Rocky 4' starring Ivan Drago (if he dies, he dies) on the Thursday and it seemed that Hibs would need to achieve a miracle as fantastical as 103 year old Rocky Bollockboa's if we were to be in the last four.

So to the Saturday, we, as a family, got up early as it was to be a Cunningham Five trip to the capital. I'd already nipped down to the Common Green (as The Hibby Pirate will confirm, Bonnie Strathaven's retail metropolis) and bought my Mum a Sidney Sheldon book for Mother's Day the following day. Mother and sister would go shopping while faither, young skud and masel went to the fitba'.

We were moving to Wales in the summer, and Mum n Dad (both born and bred Embra people) would enjoy one of their last trips to their home town before the flit. One of the first stops when we got there was a sports shop as mother had ruined ma printed Hibs (HIBERNIAN FC, crown n laurel badge at either end) scarf in the wash. I treated masel to a bobbleless green ski Hibernian hat in the same sports shop (years later I'd gie it to Mad Mike in the Vicky before the Ulises De La Cruz game - he wore it to the match and was told to keep it for Shaun). They were all the rage at the time and, reputedly, the favourite of casuals.

Casuals. What the phuck did I know about casuals then? Though they'd make an appearance before the day was out.

We then lunched in the Wimpy (now a Burger King) in Castle Street and while I tucked into whatever high cholestrol multi-produce shite it was the old man got talking to an old mate and I noticed a fellow Hibbie, totally bedecked in green. I approved.

Off we went to the match, getting parked (in plenty of time) in Dalmeny Street, and we stood from 2.30pm at the top of St Clair Street, waiting for ma Uncle Billy (he's no really ma Uncle, he's ma Dad's cousin, but he was on the Doo'cot bus when they leathered the huns after the 79 cup final - a well known story). Billy, n his pal Eric, eventually turned up pished-ish at about 5 minutes to three. Totally reekin of booze.

So, to the match itself, we were sat, right down the front of the (sparsely populated - but containing too many tims for my liking) CowShed. I always recall hearing the strains of 'Chain Reaction' by Diana Ross as we stepped down to the front. It's funny how I associate a fairly pish song with a magnificent game. Maybe there's a moral in there somewhere.

There wasn't much in it in the first half, my abiding memory is of a lusty chorus, bastardising Swansea chateuse's Mary Hopkins's 'Those Were The Days', of 'We Phuckin' Hate Celtic'. If any of you have a copy of the video of this game - I had, but when I worked at The Scotsman I lent it to Aidan Smith and the bugger never gave me it back! (So, Aidan, if you're reading this, it's Scotty wi the tattoos - gonnae gies ma 4-3 vid back, pal?)

However, Brian McClair scored with a nearpost free heeder just before the break. I listened to the scores coming in on ma tranny, Dundee Utd were beating Motherwell, Aberdeen winning at Dundee.

Into the second half and parity was soon restored, a free kick was lofted over and Stevie Cowan scored with a low shot at the near post, similar to Geebie's goal against the huns in 94. Unfortunatley, stalemate lasted but 9 minutes as Mark McGhee scored going up the slope following a cross. The tims on the Dunbar End went mad.

Hibs wouldn't give up though and with 15 minutes left Gordon Chisholm scored with a bullet of a header from the far corner of the box. Roly Poly Peter Latchford was helpless. I was going radge, bouncing around the free space that those empty rows afforded me. If you look on the vid you can see a wee bam with a green hat looking like he's been electrocuted. That's me! Yeah!

If Chisholm's goal caused elation then just nine minutes later we were entering joy unconfined; Eddie May was going one on one with Latchford, he looked certain to score but Paul McGugan brought him down. Unmistakeable penalty (unless against the huns or any of Alex Ferguson's teams of course), Stevie Wonder stepped up and made no mistake. From me and ma bro's vantage point, right behind the bloody goal, we when berserk!

Surely this was it? Surely with just 6 minutes left nothing could stop us? Unfortunately there was. And he was all dressed in black. Yep, that's right, Cellick got a penalty for an innocuous challenge by Mark Fulton and Brian McClair made no mistake.

So, a replay at PArkheed and an inevitable brave defeat it looked. Or did it? Two fine men, Colin 'Bomber' Harris and Eddie May had other ideas; with a minute to go Bomber got free down the far side (in front of the East Terracing) and delivered a low cross which beat Roly Poly and was gleefully nodded home by Eddie May!

The DVD player in my mind is pausing on the sight of that ball crossing that line! a scene of Hibernian majesty! Unbelievable joy!

Shortly afterwards the whistle was blown. 'Some people were on the pitch'. 'It was over'.

Even I got on the pitch.

I think that was after the brief casuals incident when Celtic tried to disrupt our joyful invasion. Tossers.

Walking down St Clair Street on a glorious sunny afternoon, everyone, in unison, chanting:
WE'RE GONNAE WIN THE CUP
WE'RE GONNAE WIN THE CUP
AN NOW YOU'RE GONNAE BELIEVE US
NOW YOU'RE GONNAE BELIEVE US
NOW YOU'RE BELIE-IE-IEVE US
WE'RE GONNAE WIN THE CUP!

Postscript - not that I knew it at the time but it was Davie Craven's (Zondervan's Dad) 43 birthday that day. I telt Craven this morning that Hibs beat Celtic in the cup every 21 years after his old man's 43rd bday! (And we all know what that would mean - something unseen since 1902!)

Happy Bday Davie Craven! Your son's ma best mate!

[tricky]

that game was one of the classics, was down the front of the terracing near the half way line mad scenes when Eddie May popped up with the winner, had forgotten all our goals came in the 2nd half, will echo 7Ts sentiments and say if anyone has a copy of this game I'd be willing to pay.

think this was during a televised fitba blackout due to some dispute so wasn't on the box at the time however my I obtained a VHS copy from ' Football Crazy ' on Spittal St which eventually went astray.

I was marking Eddie May for a while in the David Alexander Memorial game at Meadowbank a few years ago and he took it like a gent when I crudely upended him, top man.

[zondervan]

One of your best "on this day" post's Scott.

I remember the game well. I was there with my mate from School (Mark Bryce, now a "world famous" DJ and one half of Fisher & Price of Taste fame) and it was also my first time on the hallowed turf, although I struggled to get over the terracing fence.

When we went 4-3 up is still one of my best moments watching Hibs.

Will pass on your birthday wishes to Daddy Z tonight
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PS - The Wimpy on Castle Street is now an HSBC, and not a Burger King. Get your facts rights!
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[cavalier]

T'was a fantastic afternoon out, one of the best!
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[hibbyharp1875]

Originally Posted by Seven Tattoos
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First, the pretentious intro bit, like the advertising hoor I am I've decided my autistic, anal reminiscences need a new title, a new image. So, just as the 'North British' spruced itself up and re-named itself after Charles an Camilla's shag-den 'The Balmoral', I've decided to rename Rainman corner after a Pulp song about the first time you got yer hole (Do You Remember The First Time)!

21 years ago today, Saturday 8th March 1986, Scottish Cup quarter final, Hibs 4-3 Celtic. Quite simply the best, the most exciting game of football I have ever attended. And I was at the huns cup semi, the Anderlecht game, the 6-2, the Athens game and other legendary 90 or 120 mins of Hibbie folklore over the past score and one year.

Hibs, after a brief autumn ten game unbeaten run in the league and a Skol Cup final appearance (where a certain 17 year old from Galashiels got a late run-out), were having a poor season. We'd lost three in a row and had even lost 3-1 at Ibrox the previous Saturday, against Jock Wallace Mark 2's inept huns (oh, yes, this was the shite that spawned the Souness revolution). That was actually the late Black n Tan's last win as huns boss. True.

We hadn't beaten Celtic in the Scottish since our last cup final win back in 1902. Even Methuselah's Dad was dead then. Truth was we were being outshadowed by our city cousins. The hated Jambos were on a roll, top of the league, unbeaten for 1874 games (well, since September anyway), and, given that they were at home to Alex Miller's St Mirren on the Sunday, were strongly fancied for the double. Who's Sorry Now, as they say!

I was a lonely teenage rocking buck, with a crap haircut and a tonka-truck, living in Strathaven and the local team, the Mighty Accies (with about a million former Hibs players, John Brogan, Kevin McKee, Willie Jamieson) were storming the First Division. Indeed, hertz had been veh luckah indeed to win at Douglas Park in the 4th round. I'd been to see 'Rocky 4' starring Ivan Drago (if he dies, he dies) on the Thursday and it seemed that Hibs would need to achieve a miracle as fantastical as 103 year old Rocky Bollockboa's if we were to be in the last four.

So to the Saturday, we, as a family, got up early as it was to be a Cunningham Five trip to the capital. I'd already nipped down to the Common Green (as The Hibby Pirate will confirm, Bonnie Strathaven's retail metropolis) and bought my Mum a Sidney Sheldon book for Mother's Day the following day. Mother and sister would go shopping while faither, young skud and masel went to the fitba'.

We were moving to Wales in the summer, and Mum n Dad (both born and bred Embra people) would enjoy one of their last trips to their home town before the flit. One of the first stops when we got there was a sports shop as mother had ruined ma printed Hibs (HIBERNIAN FC, crown n laurel badge at either end) scarf in the wash. I treated masel to a bobbleless green ski Hibernian hat in the same sports shop (years later I'd gie it to Mad Mike in the Vicky before the Ulises De La Cruz game - he wore it to the match and was told to keep it for Shaun). They were all the rage at the time and, reputedly, the favourite of casuals.

Casuals. What the phuck did I know about casuals then? Though they'd make an appearance before the day was out.

We then lunched in the Wimpy (now a Burger King) in Castle Street and while I tucked into whatever high cholestrol multi-produce shite it was the old man got talking to an old mate and I noticed a fellow Hibbie, totally bedecked in green. I approved.

Off we went to the match, getting parked (in plenty of time) in Dalmeny Street, and we stood from 2.30pm at the top of St Clair Street, waiting for ma Uncle Billy (he's no really ma Uncle, he's ma Dad's cousin, but he was on the Doo'cot bus when they leathered the huns after the 79 cup final - a well known story). Billy, n his pal Eric, eventually turned up pished-ish at about 5 minutes to three. Totally reekin of booze.

So, to the match itself, we were sat, right down the front of the (sparsely populated - but containing too many tims for my liking) CowShed. I always recall hearing the strains of 'Chain Reaction' by Diana Ross as we stepped down to the front. It's funny how I associate a fairly pish song with a magnificent game. Maybe there's a moral in there somewhere.

There wasn't much in it in the first half, my abiding memory is of a lusty chorus, bastardising Swansea chateuse's Mary Hopkins's 'Those Were The Days', of 'We Phuckin' Hate Celtic'. If any of you have a copy of the video of this game - I had, but when I worked at The Scotsman I lent it to Aidan Smith and the bugger never gave me it back! (So, Aidan, if you're reading this, it's Scotty wi the tattoos - gonnae gies ma 4-3 vid back, pal?)

However, Brian McClair scored with a nearpost free heeder just before the break. I listened to the scores coming in on ma tranny, Dundee Utd were beating Motherwell, Aberdeen winning at Dundee.

Into the second half and parity was soon restored, a free kick was lofted over and Stevie Cowan scored with a low shot at the near post, similar to Geebie's goal against the huns in 94. Unfortunatley, stalemate lasted but 9 minutes as Mark McGhee scored going up the slope following a cross. The tims on the Dunbar End went mad.

Hibs wouldn't give up though and with 15 minutes left Gordon Chisholm scored with a bullet of a header from the far corner of the box. Roly Poly Peter Latchford was helpless. I was going radge, bouncing around the free space that those empty rows afforded me. If you look on the vid you can see a wee bam with a green hat looking like he's been electrocuted. That's me! Yeah!

If Chisholm's goal caused elation then just nine minutes later we were entering joy unconfined; Eddie May was going one on one with Latchford, he looked certain to score but Paul McGugan brought him down. Unmistakeable penalty (unless against the huns or any of Alex Ferguson's teams of course), Stevie Wonder stepped up and made no mistake. From me and ma bro's vantage point, right behind the bloody goal, we when berserk!

Surely this was it? Surely with just 6 minutes left nothing could stop us? Unfortunately there was. And he was all dressed in black. Yep, that's right, Cellick got a penalty for an innocuous challenge by Mark Fulton and Brian McClair made no mistake.

So, a replay at PArkheed and an inevitable brave defeat it looked. Or did it? Two fine men, Colin 'Bomber' Harris and Eddie May had other ideas; with a minute to go Bomber got free down the far side (in front of the East Terracing) and delivered a low cross which beat Roly Poly and was gleefully nodded home by Eddie May!

The DVD player in my mind is pausing on the sight of that ball crossing that line! a scene of Hibernian majesty! Unbelievable joy!

Shortly afterwards the whistle was blown. 'Some people were on the pitch'. 'It was over'.

Even I got on the pitch.

I think that was after the brief casuals incident when Celtic tried to disrupt our joyful invasion. Tossers.

Walking down St Clair Street on a glorious sunny afternoon, everyone, in unison, chanting:
WE'RE GONNAE WIN THE CUP
WE'RE GONNAE WIN THE CUP
AN NOW YOU'RE GONNAE BELIEVE US
NOW YOU'RE GONNAE BELIEVE US
NOW YOU'RE BELIE-IE-IEVE US
WE'RE GONNAE WIN THE CUP!

Postscript - not that I knew it at the time but it was Davie Craven's (Zondervan's Dad) 43 birthday that day. I telt Craven this morning that Hibs beat Celtic in the cup every 21 years after his old man's 43rd bday! (And we all know what that would mean - something unseen since 1902!)

Happy Bday Davie Craven! Your son's ma best mate!

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[egb_hibs]

one of my own favourites that 7t, thanks for the memories. in my opinion though it's pipped by the lc 1/4 against sellick that same year, the 4-4 one we won on pens. i think that's one reason the soapies were so fuming at the end of this one - two of these on the trot. heh heh
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