Dickie Felton | 23 July 2021 |
PART ONE OF A SERIES
Alec looked like he’d entered its walls on New Years Eve and had remained there ever since.
Yet it was now mid-July.
The 50-something staggered, lurched like a leaning tower, and then drowned me in warm wishes and saliva.
Alec seemed as much a part of the furniture as the religious symbols on each wall.
Here there were Virgin Mary statues alongside framed photographs of The Pope and US president John F Kennedy.
Yet this was no church – it was the first pub I entered on my very first trip to Glasgow in the summer of 2001.
Friday July 20th was special that year. It was my 28th birthday and my first trip from Liverpool to Paradise to watch the treble winning Glasgow Celtic.
The Hoops were set to take on English first division champions Fulham in a pre-season friendly.
It was summer in Glasgow, so it was freezing and pissing down.
Me and my girlfriend set off in the general direction of the stadium, only for the rain to get heavier.
We developed a thirst and poked our heads into Bairds Bar – next to the legendary Barrowlands music venue.
It was one of those moments when you throw caution, sensibility and safety out of the window all at the same time.
Bairds had a curious external atmosphere of looking both welcoming and rough. The kind of pub those of a sensitive persuasion may wish to avoid.
Our faces must have been like Willy Wonka golden ticket holders when we pushed open the door and entered a world of pure imagination. The song booming on the jukebox as we walked in was Fairytale of New York.
Bairds was part-pub-part-museum-part-shrine to everything Celtic, Ireland and Catholicism. Memories and Celtic memorabilia covered every spot of wall. It was an absolutely stunning sight.
It felt like the most Catholic place I’d ever walked into. And I once went on a day trip to Lourdes…
Being dragged up by Christian Brothers at school, I was used to seeing statues of the Virgin Mary – but not in the context of an inner city pub.
That night in Bairds Bar, Our Lady presided over press clippings of famous Celtic men such as Kenny Dalglish, Jimmy Johnstone and Billy McNeill.
Alec had been the first person over when my girlfriend and I tentatively positioned ourselves under adverts for a religious retreat and a flyer outlining travel details for Celtic’s forthcoming Champions League qualifier at Ajax of Amsterdam.
I couldn’t work out why photos of an assassinated American president were dotted around the place. And then it dawned – JFK was the first Catholic president. (Joe Biden is the second).
I’d started to think Alec worked – or even lived – in Bairds.
He helped himself to an Irish whiskey from behind the bar and promptly gifted it to me. What a welcome.
What I didn’t know back then was that I’d entered one of Scotland’s most legendary – and in its latter life – most infamous boozers. A venue every bit as iconic as its famous music hall neighbour.
I told Alec it was my first time in Glasgow and he swore after this that I would: “Be back”.
Alex told me that Bairds was: “A big Celtic place”.
I’d never had guessed…
He gave me a potted history of the pub and made a wild claim interim Celtic manager Kenny Dalglish once held a press conference in there ahead of a match against Rangers. Obviously I thought it was the booze talking, until years later I found this to actually be true.
That night in Bairds I wore a Liverpool FC teeshirt which celebrated the last match I’d attended – the 2001 UEFA Cup Final which saw The Reds beat Alaves 5-4 in the UEFA Cup Final.
I think it was that tee that led to the free whiskey. Or the complete look of fear on my face every time someone new entered the saloon.
Alec seemed to like Houllier’s men and my home city: “Where you really at that game? Liverpool – it’s a fine city” he enthused.
The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl suddenly made way for You’ll Never Walk Alone played at full blast.
“I arranged that for you sonny,” beamed Alec.
I could have stayed in Bairds all night. Or possibly, like Alec, all year.
But just as the malt and music was taking hold we realised kick-off was approaching, said our farewells and jumped a cab up the ground.
And here was Celtic. A club and ground I had been fascinated with since childhood. Largely due to the fact that Kenny Dalglish in the red of Liverpool was my first hero. And he had once played for Celtic…
We climbed stairs for an eternity to the Lisbon Lions Stand Upper – Area 416, Row R, Seats 011 and 012.
The vast expanse of green was a joy to see. And time for another lump in the throat as YNWA got its second outing of the evening.
The ground wasn’t full, after all, it was only a friendly. But there were at least 35000 there and some 400 from Fulham.
The Cottagers were very charitable with a “Congratulations Celtic” banner unfurled by their players marking The Bhoys treble achievements in the previous season.
I wondered if former Celtic ace John Collins – that night in the Fulham ranks – had played a part in that.
Celtic looked brilliant in the first half, especially their wondrous Swede Henrik Larsson who netted at 19 and 56 minutes. Shaun Maloney grabbed a third for the Hoops late on.
Walking away from the ground, the rain got heavier. We waited ages for a bus on London Road to take us back into town.
But the rain didn’t matter. I’d actually been to Celtic. And, survived two hours in Bairds Bar.
Alec was right. I did end up going back to Celtic.
I’ve had a season ticket for the last few years – in the same stand where I watched Larsson and co during that rainy night two decades ago.
And – I’m back at Celtic this weekend for another pre-season friendly against a London club – this time West Ham.
I struck lucky in this week’s ballot and will join 18500 others back inside Celtic Park for the first time in 18 months.
I cannot wait for the climb up the steps, You’ll Never Walk Alone, and the birth of a new era for the club under Ange Postecoglou.
Tomorrow my lad comes with me – the thrill is beyond words.
There’ll be no Bairds Bar though. It had its licence revoked in 2014 following a series of violent incidents.
Today it’s now an upmarket wine bar – with no resemblance to it’s former self.
I’m yet to step in – but I may do tomorrow and see if Alec still lives there…
Wine For My Men We Ride at Dawn…
*This is the first part of a serialisation of my football following life in 2001/02. I kept a diary of every football match I attended that year following Liverpool FC. Next stop Amsterdam to watch the Reds in the Ajax Tournament…
