Champions League qualifying Round 2nd Leg
28th september 2002

FC Basel 2

Celtic 0

1:0 Giminez (8); 2:0

Att: 11,698

Ref: John Underhill

Celtic: Douglas, Balde, Mjallby , Valgaeren, Laursen (Guppy ), Petrov, Lambert (Agathe), Lennon, Sylla (Hartson), Larsson ,Sutton

Having managed to get a foot in the Champions league door, Celtic tripped on a Toblerone in the form of Basel. Like Hannibal's elephants, they stumbled down out of fooball's Alpine heights, leaving a large steaming mess behind in Switzerland.

Swiss timepieces got off to a flyer, going one up in eight minutes. An undeniably good goal, it was a tragedy for the Celtic defence, which looked to have as many holes as a lump of Gorgonzola. Mjallby and Bobo were caught ball watching, as Basel forwards slallomed through a gap big enough to fit the Eiger.

Celtic did try to rally, but it looked like it was going to be one of those nights. Bobo and Larsson came close, but Zubibuellher pulled off spectacular point blank stops. OFM must have felt like a pussy being stroked by a balding Bond villain, in the form of Basel's resident Dr Evil, Christian Gross. With no luck in front of goal and Gross using more tactical tools than you'd find on a Swiss Army knife, Celtic were in disarray.

The second after twenty two minutes was overdue. A corner saw RabD hesitate as he came off his line. The Sieve stopped in its collective tracks and a diminutive Swiss gnome out jumped towering defenders to make it 2-0.

Constantly outfought and continually caught for pace at this level, the cuckoo clocks were timing Celtic's latest Euro-exit. Too many players capable in the SPL were not cutting it on the Euorpean stage.

The second period saw OFM make a much needed tactical switch, but too late. The introduction of Guppy, as it had at Parkhead, heralded some improvement. He ran the Swiss ragged as Celtic began to give Basel the kind of battering not seen since Gazza versus Cheryl at Gleneagles.

All to no avail. With RabD shutting up shop at the back, Larsson, Petrov , Sutton and Hartson all came agonisingly close. None more so than Sutton, who in the dying seconds, watched as his shot trickled wide of the post with the keeper stranded.

If Country music is the music of pain, then this was football's equivalent. The psychological fall-out from this could be as big as the hole in Celtic coffers.

UEFA beckons now, but who wants to eat left-overs after sampling the meal at the top table.