GLF 55: Imagine turning up at Fir Park to see the buses for the CIS semi already moving - and they don't stop!
Tuesday 1st February is one of those compelling nights that will live long in the memory.
Motherwell 3-2 Hearts (AET),
Arsenal 2-4 Manchester United
As a devoted ‘Well follower and a lifelong fan of United, last night’s results were a dream come true - I couldn’t have scripted it better myself!! Regrettably however, my recollection of events is likely to differ greatly from the vast majority of the Claret & Amber faithful:
After months of waiting and anticipation, our date with destiny had finally arrived. John Robertson’s Hearts were all that stood between the ‘Well and our 2nd Cup Final in my lifetime. While Pressley and Leitch were leading their respective clubs down the tunnel however, I was sitting in the house absolutely distraught, GUTTED!! Two tickets for Easter Road lay crumpled up in the corner of the living room, my ‘Well shirt and scarf were abandoned nearby. At 7.45pm an enthralling ride on the rollercoaster of emotion had just got underway. Indeed, Mystic Meg couldn’t have forecasted what was to follow in the subsequent 2&1/2 hours.
PRE-MATCH BUILDUP
As you may have gathered, I missed the bus last night!! Once my pal and I finished work, we quickly changed into our ‘Well colours and frantically dashed towards Fir Park. While we were cutting it tight to meet the departure time of 5.30pm, we were in good spirits - a prosperous night lay ahead. Turning into Knowetop Avenue at 5.36pm, the street was dominated by a procession of buses. Gathering pace, my friend and I tried to establish the precise location of Bus 14. Watching in dismay, the bus we were walking towards pulled off, instantly followed by the remaining buses that populated the bottom end of Knowetop Avenue.
At 5.40pm therefore, two lonely figures stood adjacent to the Cooper Stand, shocked and stranded!! What do we do know?? Why did nobody stop for us?? At that moment, the consequences didn’t fully register though! I presumed that my father was also running late, surely he wouldn’t have departed without us.
Ironically, we had previously discussed the prospect of my father running late. Due to previous experiences with the Fir Park buses that involved trips to Stranraer & Kilmarnock, my dad and I were entitled to assume that the buses would probably set off 20 minutes or so after the scheduled departure. Therefore we had agreed that, should he be running late, he would still drive down to Fir Park. If the buses were away then fair enough, he would just drive over to Edinburgh…
So my pal and I stood outside the Cooper Stand, waiting for my dad to arrive. Despite numerous calls home and to his mobile, I was unable to get in touch with him. As our watches ticked past 6pm, we knew that it wasn’t going to be our night and the red mist descended. Unfortunately, my views at that time towards my dad, the bus drivers and ultimately Motherwell FC are not appropriate for family reading.
So I headed up the road, extremely dejected. Just before 7pm my father managed to master the art of telephony and phoned home. Guess where was he calling from - EASTER ROAD!?! Despite my father’s appeals, the Bus Driver was apparently unwilling to wait another couple of minutes. Consequently, my father departed on the understanding I would be able to jump on one of the remaining busesL.
With my undesirable petulant streak pumping through my veins, I regrettably informed him on no uncertain terms, that I would shed no tears if the Jambos hammered us!!
THE MATCH
As 7.45pm came and went, I was still emotionally traumatised. With my blood boiling and the steam coming out my ears, I settled down to watch Man United commence battle with THE enemy. Initially, the opportunity to watch this epic heavyweight encounter seemed scant consolation.
For the next 2 hours I would infuriate the Kerr household by continuously flicking between the game and the Gillette Soccer Special.
Just as the game got underway at Highbury, the Mighty ‘Well were 1 up courtesy of a rare Craggo goal. Despite the exhilarating tempo at Highbury, I continued to flick channels. Much to my amazement, the ‘Well managed to reach half time without conceding. In all honesty, I was still gutted with the circumstances that prompted my absence from Easter Road. Consequently, the prospect of reaching the final had yet to fully register in my mind. Meanwhile, the Red Devils were 2-1 down and toiling as Arsenal threatened to extinguish our fading hopes of regaining the Premiership Crown.
During an astonishing four-minute spell turnaround, my pent-up anger and frustration evaporated. Almost simultaneously, Ronaldo scored an amazing equaliser while Foran apparently clinched the day-out at Hampden we have craved for years. Three minutes later, United went 3-2 up at Highbury and the Gunners were rocking. Things were going too well however! Will us ‘Well fans ever learn that we don’t do comfortable victories?
Despite going down to 10 men, Man United were controlling the game with remarkable ease. Focusing my attention on Jeff Stelling and his usual guests, I awaited confirmation of the final score at Easter Road. As BURCHILL 85 flashed up on the screen, my butterflies started doing somersaults. Surely though, we would still be okay! Then moments later my heart sank, to my horror some foreign guy - whose name escapes me - had netted a crushing equaliser in the 90th minute. A Hearts victory now seemed inevitable…
While the semi went into extra-time, John O’Shea concluded a fantastic move with a cute lob that put the final nail in Arsene Wenger’s Premiership coffin. It was a privilege to witness the finest show that the Premiership has conjured up in recent years. The demolition of Arsenal in their own backyard is arguably our greatest triumph since Barcelona 1999. Nonetheless, United’s success would be little more than consolation, if Motherwell weren’t to overcome Hearts.
Once the Gillette Soccer Special finished at 10ish, I had to resort to watching teletext for an everlasting 10 or 15 minutes - absolute torture! As the seconds slowly crept by, my mind started to wander towards the prospect of penalties. Penalties are a nerve-wracking experience at the best of times; I don’t think I could have survived such drama with teletext the sole media source. Much to my amazement however, proceedings never got that far. With only seconds left, teletext flickered - oh no don’t tell my Hearts have denied us, Jammy B*******!! Within that split second, FITZPATRICK 120 stared back at me.
Were my eyes deceiving me, had our latest teenage prodigy picked the finest moment possible to score his first ever goal?!? Despite the psychological blow of letting a 2-goal lead subside in the dying minutes, Butcher’s troops showed tremendous character and spirit to pull a fantastic result out of the fire. A result that few would have predicted when the 90 minutes were up. I was in deep SHOCK!! We had done it in the most dramatic way possible. Motherwell had clinched the coveted trip to Hampden.
Ya Beauty!!!
POST-MATCH ANALYSIS
While you guys are all riding the crest of a wave this morning, my celebrations are still somewhat subdued. Clearly intoxicated by adrenalin, my dad bounced in the back door at midnight, singing the old “We are the Motherwell FC, we hate the HEARTS and we hate Dundee…”
Despite our triumph I was still heartbroken at my misfortune. I was certainly not in the mood to hear tales of the experience!! The vision of 4 or 5 buses driving away without us will probably haunt my pal and I with annoying regularity for the foreseeable future.
Nonetheless, the dust has now settled and I’m obviously over the moon that we have a chance of bringing home some Silverware for the first time in 14 years. Roll on Hampden!!!
Prior to his devastating injury, Brian Kerr repeatedly expressed his desire to lift a trophy with the ‘Well. Since pre-season, his positive and passionate comments have always lingered at the back of my mind. If Brian’s rehabilitation continues to progress at the current rate, then there is an excellent chance that Kerso will be at Hampden to receive a medal.
As fate would have it, our showdown with Rangers falls on the week where both sets of fans will unite as they commemorate the 10th anniversary of Davie Cooper’s sad death.
Pictures of Cooper, Boyd, Maxwell et al celebrating in 91 will live with all of us for ever, we can only pray that our current crop of heroes- who have already surpassed all expectations in the last 2 years - match the efforts of 91 and subsequently gain legendary status down Fir Park way…
Good Luck Lads!! We believe in you…
KEEP THE FAITH
STUART KERR
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