UEFA Cup Semi Final 2nd Leg
Thursday April 24th 2003

Boavista 0

Celtic 1

0:1 Larsson (78)

Att: 11,000

ref: Ivanov (Rus)

Celtic: Douglas; Valgaeren (Smith 74), Balde, Laursen; Agathe, Lambert (Sutton 34), Lennon, Petrov, Thompson; Hartson, Larsson

The worst game I've had to watch in all my years and arguably the best result we've had to celebrate since Lisbon. A truly magnificent achievement , as Celtic, a team from a much derided Scotish league, reach a European final after an absence of over thirty years. The silence from Ibrox is deafening and the smile on my face is as broad as Belfast Lough.

No doubt about it, this result has enshrined Martin O'Neill and Henrik Larsson as Titans in the Celtic pantheon and will immortalise the current squad should they come home with the silverware. As for the SPL trophy - do we really care? Just ask yourself when another Scottish team was last in a European final, or better still, when were the Orcs last there? You may want to have clean pants ready in case you piss yourself laughing! It puts it all in perspective, does it not?

As a football spectacle this was shoddy fare. Boavista looked content to hold Celtic to a nil-nil draw and go through on away goals. They offered nothing, they threatened little and displayed the worst aspects of European gamesmanship: spare balls disappeared to waste time and players were diving about as if they were at a convention of the Greg Luganis Appreciation Society; cynical tackles and spoiling were the order of the day.

Celtic , for their part, looked to have stage fright but at least the players manfully tried to carry the game to the home side.

Chances were as rare as hens' teeth, with Larsson fluffing Celtic's only appreciable scoring opportunity of the first half. At this point, the worrying aspect for us was the early loss of Lambert after half an hour. But his replacement , Sutton, with wrist still strapped, plugged the gap superbly.

The second period saw much of the same, with Boavista content to let Celtic come forward. Celtic came on in waves (after wave after wave etc.), but didn't show sufficient creativity to breach the home defence. O'Neill then made a switch, taking off a toiling Valgaeren for Smith. It worked.

Come the 75 minute mark, the Celtic world erupted. A Sutton knock on found Hartson who drew three defenders, leaving Larsson free near the box. The ball was slipped to Henke, who evaded crowding defenders to wrong foot the keeper and shoot home. The Estadio Do Besso exploded. The joy was indescribable as thirty years of Ibrox -induced repression, tabloid put downs and SPL chicanery, were kicked into touch.

The next 15 minutes were fraught as nerves jangled, hearts rates soared and Celts everywhere sobered up - in an instant. Boavista quickly changed their tune and spare match balls were appearing from all corners of the park in such abundance that we thought a branch of JJB Sports had opened on the building site behind the Boavista. Chequered players who had hitherto been rolling in agonised spasms on the ground at the meerest hint of a touch snapped to life. Even Billy Graham would have been impressed by this display of mass healing.

All to no avail. Celtic were in control and heading for Seville. On the final whistle, the passports were being dug out with the shades as Partytime 2003 got into full swing.