Celtic 1 Inverness Caley Thistle 3: memories from the February 2000 night in the east end of Glasgow that changed Highland football forever
Celtic really should have guessed something was up.
Storm winds from the north had just ripped the guttering clean off Parkhead’s new Lisbon Lions Stand.
As omens go, it wasn’t exactly subtle.
Unfancied and mildly patronised, Inverness Caledonian Thistle had also blown south and were about to tear the Glasgow giants’ house down.
Just to be there on the night was a thing of wonder – and I say that as a lifelong Celtic fan.
It was a magical game, an affirmation of how football can always bring the high and mighty crashing spectacularly.
Having grown up 20 miles from the nearest Highland League ground, with no Scottish league club to lure me in, the Hoops became my armchair team of choice. Mates in Foyers were all either Rangers or Fergie-era Aberdeen glory-hunters and it was great to wind them up. There’s my apology.
By February 2000, I was a self-employed freelancer covering north football for the central belt papers, still new to it and a little green. We all were, Caley Thistle included.
I shouldn’t even have been there to witness the legendary night.
There was no chance of being asked to cover the originally scheduled game on Saturday January 29. Staffers from the nationals would naturally attend.
So while Steve Paterson and team, plus 4000 Highland fans, were heading home after a wasted journey, I was watching Ross County lose 1-0 at home to Hamilton. Martin Bonnar scored the winner. Anybody?
It so happened, for the rescheduled Celtic Park date of February 8, 2000, I’d been invited to the Sunday Herald newspaper’s first birthday party, at a venue on the Clyde. That’s how long ago this was. The now-defunct Sunday Herald was one year old.
I decided, being down in Glasgow anyway, to try and wangle a press pass for the match before the Herald booze-up.
At the time, I wrote a Ross-shire Journal column. Banking (correctly) on Celtic media staff being a bit sketchy on Highland geography, I got the RJ to apply for one to serve all those ICT readers in Dingwall, Tain and Invergordon …
Rolling up at the ground that dark winter’s evening, the scale of the place seemed to emphasise the scale of task facing Caley Jags.
They were mid-table in the old First Division, full of ex-Highland League graduates and bigger club cast-offs. Goalkeeper Jimmy Calder was part-time, a builder by trade with a bad back and two dodgy knees.
Rangers-supporting Jim’s previous visit to Parkhead had been in February 1985 with Inverness Thistle, playing as a STRIKER. Some 15 years on, he would be magnificent between the sticks.
Celtic could call on distinguished internationals like Tommy Boyd, Lubo Moravcik, Eyal Berkovic and Mark Viduka. They had just bought Arsenal legend Ian Wright as a stand-in for injured Henrik Larsson.
Celtic staff at the door were welcoming, but gave the impression they wouldn’t have blinked had the Highland contingent arrived on tractors with straw in our ears.
I remember a hero, Murdo MacLeod, seated just in front of me as a BBC radio pundit, talking rather disparagingly about Caley Thistle’s chances.
It wasn’t just Murdo. Phrases like “it’s a nice day out for them” rang around the place. One Glasgow colleague had put a tenner on a 7-0 Celtic win.
As the game kicked off, a strange sensation stirred. My Highland hackles were up and I was supporting Caley Thistle.
Players I spoke to every week or two were keeping the ball effortlessly from international stars, moving it sweetly. Far from being overawed, they were revelling in it, Charlie Christie running the show.
As Barry Wilson banged in a terrific opener, Mark Burchill swiftly responded. The Celtic and Central Belt contingent nodded knowingly. The plucky upstarts were about to be put back in their box.
Only they weren’t. Bobby Mann, who had Australia-international Viduka tucked neatly in his back pocket, soon restored the lead off Moravcik’s deflection.
Viduka clearly didn’t fancy it and never came back out for the second half, having apparently had a square go with Eric Black, the Invergordon-raised assistant manager.
We learned later that Steve Paterson, at the break, had spoken calmly to emphasise to his players they were winning on merit.
Something incredible was within reach. As the home support turned on their team, Paul Sheerin swept home the deserved third from the penalty spot and unforgettable scenes unfolded.
My memories of the game, misty as they are, recall a happy blur of free-flowing football from the underdogs.
Some mildly comic post-match scenes ensued, underlining just how new we all were to this level of football.
As soon to be sacked Barnes took an almighty battering from national reporters, into the Celtic media room wandered man of the match Christie and manager Paterson.
Spotting complementary press drinks, there was a familiar “scoosh” sound of lager tins being prised open.
The Caley Thistle pair were hurriedly ushered aside and told it wasn’t the done thing to stand and watch an opposition boss being interviewed, least of all with a celebratory bevvy in hand.
In the next few days, the club’s name – and that of Inverness – reverberated around the world.
Nothing was ever quite the same again in Highland football.
Had the Parkhead guttering not come down in gales, who knows how history might have played out?
For Celtic, the saying “it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good” rang true. Barnes’ departure ushered in the Martin O’Neill years and plentiful success.
Much the same ensued for Caley Thistle.
