homage to andalucia

When the nights begin to draw in you can always relive your Seville experiences to keep you warm. Our front line despatches came courtesy of Bravehoop and his intrepid band of fellow travellers.

Bravehoop Dispatch I
Dateline: Timmemolinos, Tuesday 20th May

FROM Albufeira, Ayamonte, Timmemolinos and all points between, beyond and unknown, Special Forces Agents of the Stirling Tam Gavin Emerald Army are mustering for the final advance to Seville on Operation UEFA Glory. With the organisational capacity of the Keystone Cops, they are being joined daily by thousands of hooped hopefuls without match tickets, accommodation or transport to or from the Andalucian capital.

Not since (Big Jack) Charlton Heston faced the Moors and Sophia Loren in El Cid has the Iberian peninsula seen such a fanatical invasion. On Sunday afternoon, Timmemolinos's Hollie Fitzsimons bar was temporarily transformed into Bairds on the Gallowgate as Rangers' 2:0 win over Hearts was greeted with expletives and invective that would have made the coarsest of Spanish sailors blush.

Bravehoop's apartment looks out on a 100ft square Irish tricolour draped across two balconies, proclaiming the residency of O'Leary's Bar, Rutherglen. It is only one of hundreds hanging from hotels throughout the resort as the entire Costa del Sol turns verdiblanco.

Morning wake-up calls are a daily dawn chorus of Scots-Irish folk tunes, You'll Never Walk Alone and references to the steamy ITV police soap, The Bill.

The locals have taken well to the bhoysterous, peely wally visitors bedecked in green, white and gold and derive much amusement from watching peely wally turn fetching shades of beetroot and lobster. The economic benefits of the presence of so many big spending, big drinking visitors has also, no doubt, ensured a warm welcome for the emerald amigos.

Prior to the great green exodus, the Spanish authorities claimed that they would comfortably be able to cope with the influx. However, by Monday afternoon, every seat on public transport, bus or train, from Malaga to Seville on Wednesday had been booked. Ever resourceful and ever self-sacrificing, Bravehoop has foregone the chance of a lift with a desperado splinter group from the Future is Green McChuill's CSC, who may or may not show up, and sorted out the advance party of Agents Gareth, Olly, Decky, Sinky and Lynn with a 28 Euro day excursion bus to Seville as opposed to the 60 Euros plus that most Timmemolinos Irish bars are charging for their brake club charabancs. Needless to say, the day trip bus will be a few bodies short on the way back at 3pm.

Having fluctuated as spectacularly as Neil Lennon's standing with some of the Celtic Park faithful through and through when it suits them, match ticket going rates have now levelled at around 1000 euros. However, possession of the most valuable briefs since some Ozzie soap singer's shiny shorts is denied for fear of big bhoys stealing them and running away. Insurance will not cover priceless.

Avante los Hoops.

Bravehoop Despatch II
Dateline: Seville, Wednesday 21st May/ Timmemolinos, Thursday 22nd May

SO the rollercoaster stopped at the bottom, not the top, but - as Loretto Amauseless says to his bedroom mirror every morning - what a ride.

Operation UEFA Glory may have ended in nominal defeat to the diving, playing acting and time wasting of Johnny Foreigner, but from TGM (The Great Man, King of Kings, St. H of L), The Blessed Martin and all the players to every one of the 80,000 world record breaking travelling supporters, 750,00 Sevillians and every fair minded football fan in the world, we know who the real winners were.

Despite the result, hospitalisation, loss of personal effects, stifling heat, transport chaos and communications blackout, Special Forces Agents of the Stirling Tam Gavin Emerald Army more than distinguished themselves in action.

Bravehoop's final assault on Seville began at 7am when he was joined by Agents Gareth, Olly, Decky, Sinky and Lynn on a day trip bus from Timmemolinos. All seemed well, in spite of Olly nursing a dodgy ankle from falling off a beach bar wall the previous evening after over-indulging in vodka-fortified sangria.

By 9am, we were well into the parched Andalucian plain - where the rain did not appear to have mainly fallen for quite some time - and helpful tour guide Victor informed us that the temperature in Seville was currently 37C, well into the 90s in old money.

To combat dehydration, good use was made of a motorway services stop to stock up on water and fruit - taking oranges to Seville, a new twist on the coals to Newcastle theme.

At 10.50am, the troops disembarked at Seville's magnificent Plaza de Espana and Bravehoop, Gareth, Sinky and Lynn caught a taxi for Bravehoop's hotel, 5km outside the city centre.

It was at this point that Fate began its fiercest offensive. On arrival at Hotel San Pablo, Bravehoop discovered that his wallet (fortunately not containing his match ticket) was no longer in his designer Bermuda shorts and, despite a fine toothed combing of the taxi, it could not be located. So, after Agent Sinky graciously paid the fare, check-in was followed by calls back to Blighty to cancel cards. Rattled, but undaunted, the hotel party returned to the Plaza, where Agent Decky reported the second bombshell. Agent Olly's ankle had apparently swollen up alarmingly and he had been rushed to an unknown hospital by a good Samaritan civilian Sevillian.

To further complicate matters, the heat or perhaps the affect of more than 100,000 football fans flooding networks had caused a mobile phone meltdown. Nevertheless, determined as ever, the remaining bhoys and ghirl decided to proceed towards the Bull Ring, the agreed rendezvous for Tam Gavin Emerald Agents, with the vague notion of returning to the Plaza later in the hope that Agent Olly would return there after getting patched up.

En route, there was a brief stop for photo opportunities at the Puerta de Jerez, where thousands of sun-drenched Celts had commandeered the spectacular fountains, among them Billy Connolly, who was less than chuffed to be given an impromptu beer shower.

Further on down the Avenida Sanjurjo, eagle-eyed Bravehoop spotted a lunching couple who had been on the earlier bus from Timmemolinos. Polite enquiries established that the tour departed Seville from the nearby Torre d'Or at 3pm. Armed with this glimmer of hope for the lost wallet, the advance guard headed for the Bull Ring. Only Agents Gordon and Corky (with a flip-flop inflicted broken toe) could initially be located, but eventually Agents Moran, Morgan (F), resplendent in his Raploch 58 Celtic top, McArthur, X and several executive chums arrived to form a happy band of Stirling Celts on tour.

At 3pm, Bravehoop headed to the bus meeting point and felt astonishingly brilliant to find the missing wallet lying on the seat he had occupied on the coach that morning.

By this time, the temperature had hit 42C, well over the Fahrenheit ton, so a couple of street-side bar beers were well in order as the massive green and white (with the odd patch of Porto blue) snake made its way over the splendid bridges of the shimmering Guadalqivir River towards the Estadio Olimpico on the Govan side.

Agents Bravehoop, Gordon and Corky bade farewell to their ticketless comrades at 5.30pm and headed to the stadium where they were amazed and delighted to meet up again with Agents Gareth, Sinky and a knee-length bandaged Olly tottering precariously on a crutch purchased outside the hospital for two Euros from an elderly local chancer.

The match itself has already been thoroughly documented elsewhere, but no account of that historic night would be complete without reference to TGM's 200th Celtic goal, the first equaliser and greatest headed goal by anyone for anyone against anyone anywhere ever. At his second goal, perhaps due to the heat or maybe just feebleness, Sinky fainted.

Honourable mentions too should go to the organisers for mounting a magnificent event and spectacle and the Porto fans for their sportsmanship and friendship throughout the day - shame about their team.

The post-match experience was marred somewhat by the refusal of taxi drivers to pick up football fans after reports of some young rascals booking cabs to distant destinations and then doing a runner on arrival without paying. Why couldn't the drivers just get the fares up front?

Anyway, this resulted in Agents Gareth, Olly and Decky being left stuck outside Bravehoop's hotel room for most of the night while Bravehoop, Gordon and Corky partied in the city centre, 5km away, until 7am. Imagine what it would have been like if we'd actually won the cup.

Let's find out next year.

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