Dundee, Scotland 1987
21 year old Brian Hegarty ran frantically
down the stairs of his house when he heard the relentless banging on his front
door. When he opened the door, his friend, Craig Munro stood outside looking
very anxious.
“Whit’s aw the bangin’ aboot?” Brian asked.
“The wife’s jist got the bairn tae sleep.”
“Sorry, mate. We’ll need tae get movin’ if
we want tae see the game.”
“Whit are ye oan aboot? The pub’s jist doon
the road.”
“Aye, but we’re no gaun tae The Crown.”
“Eh?”
“Ah thought we’d gang tae The Viceroy.”
“That’s awa oan the other side o’ toon.
Whit dae ye want tae gang there for?”
“It’ll be full o’ United supporters, plus
there’s a bigger telly.”
“Aye, awricht. Let me jist grab ma jaicket
an’ say cheerio tae the wife.”
Twenty minutes later, they both waited
patiently at the bus stop.
“Ah’ve got a feelin’ it’s gonnae be a braw
game the nicht,” said Craig. “An’ you?”
“Naw, beatin’ Barcelona at Tannadice is wan thing, but oan
their groon’? Nae chance.”
“Aw c’moan, United could dae it. Scottish
fitba’ is no aw aboot Rangers an’ Celtic.”
“Ah ken that.”
“If Aberdeen
can dae it in Europe, so can we.”
“We’ve done well tae get tae this stage.
Where’s that bus?”
Craig looked at his watch. “It better hurry
up. Dinnae want tae miss the start.”
Just then, a bus turned around the corner a
little further up the road.
“Here we go,” said Brian
When they entered the pub three quarters of
an hour later, they were astonished to find that it was almost empty.
“A bit quiet,” Brian commented. “Is yer
watch richt?”
“Aye, ah checked it before ah left hame.”
“Let’s hae a pint.”
“Whit can ah get ye, lads?” the barman
asked.
“Twa pints o’ lager,” said Brian.
“Ah thought the place wid be mobbed by
noo,” said Craig to the barman when he returned with the drinks.
“Aye, it wid be if the telly wis workin’,” the barman
replied.
“Whit!” exclaimed Craig.
“Aye, been like that for a few days noo. Repair
man said he’d be here the morra.”
“Aw that’s jist brilliant!” Brian moaned.
“Whit noo?”
“Whit aboot the Tartan Dog?” Craig
suggested.
“Dinnae be daft. That place will be full o’
the Dens Park mob. We’d be subjected tae verbal
abuse or even worse when they find oot that we’re United supporters.”
“Aye, yer richt. Whit aboot Saracens?”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s aboot a mile doon the road. Hurry up
an’ finish yer pint. We’ll probably only miss the kick aff.”
Outside the pub, Craig set the pace and
Brian struggled to keep up.
“Slow doon, wid ye!” Brian yelled.
Craig slowed down to let his friend catch
up. “If ye move a wee bit faster, we’ll get there oan time.”
“We could go hauf oan a taxi?” Brian
proposed.
“Waste o’ money.”
“Are you bein’ tight fisted again?”
“That’s no fair. Ye ken ah only get ma Giro
oan Tuesday. Whit aboot you. You’re the wan that’s workin’.”
“Aye, but ah’ve got a wife an’ bairn tae
support.”
Suddenly they heard the sound of sirens
“That’s no too faur awa,” said Brian.”Ah
wonder whit that’s aboot?”
“Somethin’s oan fire.”
“Eh?’
“Look,” said Craig pointing ahead. “Dae ye
no see the smoke?’
“Aye ah see it noo. Ah wonder whit’s
burnin’?”
Just then, three fire brigade trucks
whizzed past them.
“Must be serious,” stated Craig
Brian noticed a figure walking towards
them. “Maybe we should ask this auld guy.”
Before either of them could ask the
question, the man spoke to them first. “Ah widnae gang doon that way, lads,
it’s chaos.”
“Whits oan fire?” Brian asked.
“The Saracens pub,” the man replied.
“Aw naw.” Craig groaned. “How?’
“Ah dinnae ken. Aw ah ken is that naebody
got hurt.”
“Where tae noo?” Brian asked Craig.
“We better gang hame,” replied Craig.
“There’s a bus comin’. C’moan, run!”
Both young men ran across the road,
narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic
“Hurry, Brian, it’s awready at the bus
stoap!”
As soon as they got to the bus, the doors
had already closed. They tried desperately to get the driver’s attention, but
he didn’t see them and drove off.
“This is turnin’ oot tae be a disaster,”
Brian grumbled. “An’ you said that this wis
gonnae turn oot tae be a braw nicht.”
“It’s no ma fault.”
“We should’ve went tae The Crown, or better
still, got a few cans an’ watched it at hame.”
“If a bus comes in the next few minutes,
we’ll see maist o’ the second hauf.”
“Wan o’ the greatest matches in Dundee
United’s history, an’ we’re miles fae hame, waiting oan a bus.”
“Aw, cheer up, will ye. Ye can be a richt
prophet o’ doom sometimes. Here’s a bus comin’.noo. So stoap moanin’.”
“Dae ye ken the United score, pal?” Craig
asked a young man sitting at the front of the bus.
The young man shook his head.
“Does anybody ken the United score? he
yelled.
Some of the passengers shook their heads,
while others ignored him.
“Looks like we’ll huv tae wait,” he said to
Brian.
Twenty minutes into the journey, the driver
stopped the bus.
“Whit’s happenin’?” Brian asked. “This is
no a bus stoap.”
“Whit’s gaun oan?” Craig hollered.
“Ah think the bus has broke doon, son,” an
elderly woman at the front of the bus replied.
Brian sighed and shook his head. “This jist
gets better an’ better.
Moments later the driver appeared. “Ah’m
sorry aboot this,” he told the passengers. “Ye’ll aw have tae wait for another
bus. Ah dinnae ken whit the problem is. Jist mak sure ye’ve aw got yer tickets.”
“There’s nae time tae tak another bus,”
Craig told Brian. “We’ll huv tae walk.”
“We’re still too faur awa. We’ll never mak
it in time.”
“Ah ken a shoart cut, c’moan.”
“Where are we gaun?” asked Brian minutes
later.
“If we go ower the railway lines, we’ll get
tae the graveyard. We’ll nip through the grave yard an’ we’ll be minutes awa
fae The Crown.”
“Ah’m no gaun through there!”
“Och, dinnae be a big fearty.”
“Ah’m no feart.”
“Aye ye are. Dinnae worry. Ah can assure ye
there’s nae heidless corpses or zombies walkin’ aboot.”
“Dinnae be daft, Craig. It’s no the deid
ah’m worried aboot, it’s the livin’. A lot o’ scallawags hing aboot there.”
“There’ll be naebody there.”
When they reached the graveyard, Brian
looked in dismay at the railings.
“Whit’s the matter?” Craig asked.
“There’s spikes oan toap.”
“So?’
“It’s dark. Wan slip an’ yer impailed.”
“It’s no that high. Ah’ll climb ower first,
then ah’ll watch ye fae the other side.”
“Okay.”
Craig climbed over the railing with ease.
“See it’s easy.”
Brian climbed the railing tentatively. When
he reached the top, he wobbled slightly before jumping forward.
“Noo tae get tae the other side. Quiet as a
moose, mind.”
“Aye.”
Nervous to begin with, Brian felt slightly
relieved when they’d reached halfway without incident. But that relief was
short lived when three young men suddenly appeared in front of them.
Brian felt his fear rising. “Ah telt ye
this wid happen.”
“Let me dae the talkin’,” said Craig.
“Ah dinnae think it’s gonnae dae any good.”
“Awricht, lads,” Craig greeted them.
None of them answered. They just stared at
Brian and Craig with malevolent grins on their faces.
“We’re jist tryin’ tae get tae a telly tae
see the end o’ the match, said Craig.” Dae any o’ ye ken the score?”
“Ye better hand ower yer cash,” one of them
threatened.
“Och, dinnae be like that. It’s a big match
for United the nicht.”
“Ah dinnae care. Ah’m a Dundee
supporter. Noo dae as ah say an’ hand ower yer cash. Baith o’ ye.”
“When ah say run, we run,” Craig whispered to
Brian.”
“But…”
“Nae buts. Jist dae whit yer telt.”
“Hey, stoap whisperin’.”
“We’re skint,” said Craig.
“Ah dinnae believe ye. Ye’ve got ten
seconds.”
“Run, Brian!”
Craig and Brian ran as quickly as they
could towards the railing on the other side.
“Faster, Brian. We still huv tae get ower
the railin’. C’moan, they’re gainin’ oan us!”
“Ah’m daein’ ma best!”
As soon as the got to the railing, Craig
clambered quickly over. Seconds later, Brian tried to get over, but slipped on his
first attempt.
“C’moan, they’re behind ye!”
With adrenalin pumping, Brian scrambled to
get over the railing. As he was about to get to the top, he felt a tug on his
leg. He lashed out with his boot and connected the face of his assailant. His
attacker squealed .He managed to reach the top of the railing, but when his
feet hit the ground, he felt an agonising pain in his right ankle and screamed
loudly.
“Whit’s wrang!” cried Craig.
“Ma ankle. Ah think ah’ve sprained it!”
To Craig’s surprise, the other two men
hadn’t bothered to climb over the railing. They merely attended to their friend
without pursuing them any further. Craig helped Brian to his feet and carried
him on his back until they reached the road. Brian sat on the side of the road,
while Craig tried to flag down passing cars. Eventually a car stopped.
Craig ran to the driver. “Thanks for
stoappin’. Ma mate’s sprained his ankle.”
“Ah’m no gaun anywhere near the hoaspital,
pal,” said the driver.
“Nae problem, mate. We jist want tae get
tae The Crown pub.”
“Ah’m gaun that way. Dae ye need a haun’?”
‘Aye, ah wid appreciate it.”
“Are ye a United supporter?” Craig asked
the driver when they’d got Brian into the car.
“Aye, pure Tangerine.”
‘Dae ye ken the score?” asked Craig
excitedly.
“Naw, ah’ve jist been drivin’ aw the way
fae Manchester.
Ma radio packed up the other week. Tae be honest, ah dinnae think we’ll dae it.
No many teams gang tae the Nou Camp an’ get a result. It wid be a dream result
though.”
“That’s whit ah’ve been tellin’ him aw
nicht,” said Brian from the back seat. “The amount o’ bad luck we’ve been
huvin’ the nicht, ah reckon it’s a disaster.”
“Oh ye o’ little faith!”
The driver stopped the car outside the pub.
“There ye go, lads. Hope it’s a win. Dae ye want a haun wi’ yer pal?”
“Naw, yer awricht. Thanks a lot, mate!”
“Nae bother.”
As soon as they got inside the pub, Craig
asked one of the patrons if he would give up his seat for Brian. The man
complied and helped get Brian to the seat.
“What’s the score,” Craig asked the man.
“Wan each. We jist scored.”
“That means we’re twa-wan up oan
aggregate?”
“Aye, we jist need tae haud oan.”
“Whit can ah get ye, mate?”
‘Pint o’ lager will dae. Thanks, pal.”
“Did ye hear that, Brian? Wan apiece. We
jist need tae haud oan.”
At that moment, the commentator began to
get excited .”United have it on the left
hand side. The ball is whipped in, onto the head of Iain Ferguson, and it’s a
goal! Barcelona 1 Dundee
United 2. Oh what drama we have here at the Nou Camp. From going one nil down,
United have pulled back two goals in the dying minutes.”
The whole pub erupted in loud cheers. Craig
gave Brian a bear hug and ran to the bar to get the drinks in. Just as he
ordered the beers at the bar, the whole pub burst into song, singing, ‘The
Terrors of Tannadice.’ Craig felt the hot rush of tears as he brought the beers
back.
Brian was also in tears. “We done it, Craig!”
“Ah telt ye!”
“Aye, ye didnae jinx everythin’ the nicht.”
Craig laughed. “Drink up, we need tae get
ye tae the hoaspital.”
“That can wait.”
“Aye, a few merr widnae dae any herm.”
By Grant Harbison
