Now! Then! Glasgow Rangers seal victory in the Champions League’s Battle of Britain in the return at Elland Road

Excerpt

So we went to Elland Road, and this time it wasn’t just big Smillie who had a hefty wager on at the bookies. I had £50 at 20-1 that we’d win 2-0 because I’d had a premonition that was what was going to happen. We were well on our way, too, after Hateley’s thudding volley and Coisty’s header. Finally, though, we leaked one when Cantona’s volley deflected off Goughie’s toe and trickled past me. I thought of the £1,000 of the bookie’s money that had just slipped through my fingers and I was raging.

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.

Abbreviations

Comment

Andy Smillie was the Glaswegian owner of amongst others a scaffolding business. Some background to the tie:

There have been frequent clashes between English and Scottish clubs in European competition since, and there were many before. However, few were as keenly anticipated or as evenly matched as Leeds United against Rangers in the 1992-93 European Champions Cup. This tie, taking place during the inaugural season of the English Premier League, was the last time a truly level playing field existed between English and Scottish clubs, before the untold riches of the newly created breakaway league kicked in (Williamson 2016).

Here’s footage from both legs and some talking heads:

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Original

[Rangers had won the first leg against the English champions 2-1 at Ibrox a fortnight before.]

As ever, the arrogance of the English media got the better of them: we’d been lucky; we’d get our comeuppance down there. Every cutting was pinned to our dressing-room wall.

So we went to Elland Road, and this time it wasn’t just big Smillie who had a hefty wager on at the bookies. I had £50 at 20-1 that we’d win 2-0 because I’d had a premonition that was what was going to happen. We were well on our way, too, after Hateley’s thudding volley and Coisty’s header. Finally, though, we leaked one when Cantona’s volley deflected off Goughie’s toe and trickled past me. I thought of the £1,000 of the bookie’s money that had just slipped through my fingers and I was raging.

I was still ranting on about this amidst all the celebrations, and Ally just turned to me and said, ‘We’ve just won £25,000-a-man in bonuses, Goalie. Will you shut the fuck up about the bookies?’ I’d forgotten about that. Happy birthday!

199 words.