The derby within
Glasgow is and always has been a city of extreme polar opposites. Probably one of the reasons this fine city always had a magic attraction to me.
Let me explain on one example that I understand quite well; football.
In the green corner there is Glasgow Celtic, the Catholic club of Irish immigrants. The majority of their supporters are to be found on the extreme left of the political spectrum. Apparently they are all about tolerance and diversity. One of their favourite songs that is being played at Celtic Park, which they themselves refer to as paradise, goes: ‘Let the people sing their stories and their songs and the music of their native lands, their lullabies and battlecries, their songs of hope and joy’. Quite admirable to be so open and kind to everyone, isn’t it?
Unless it’s the Rangers supporters who sing THEIR stories and THEIR songs, THEIR lullabies and THEIR battlecries, THEIR songs of hope and joy. Because when they sing it they’re being called bigots and racists which is funny, because back in the 1800's, before Celtic had even been founded, Rangers were the predominant local team and therefore clearly on home turf.
As you can probably guess by now, Rangers are the other big club in town. The light blues, although actually playing in Royal Blue – their supporters mostly protestants, right wingers, loyalists to the British crown and the monarchy.
The whole reason I’m bringing this up is more connected to my own personal development rather than trying to point out Celtic’s extreme leftist bigotry, although I will not be missing the chance to do so.
Now, why is this conflict even relevant for me as a German you might ask?
Simply, back in 2003, my local club Stuttgart met Celtic in the UEFA Cup and although they kicked us out we had a great time with their supporters and from that day on I was a Celtic supporter. No, in reality I was a fuckin FANATIC (locally referred to as ‘Celtic daft’)! I probably spent thousands on Celtic merchandise, regularly went to Glasgow with my friends who had also adapted Celtic as their second club and I knew the first time I set foot into Glasgow, although highly intoxicated as Stuttgart were playing Rangers, that I would be living there one day. And so I did.
Pretty much exactly five years later I resigned from my job, stuffed a couple of bags and boxes into my car and drove off to Scotland to start a new life.
Today, over a decade after leaving Scotland again, I still consider it home and have been contemplating a permanent return for quite some time now.
Over the years, after travelling around with Celtic in Europe and even being a founding member of Andalucia Celtic Supporters Club whilst living in the South of Spain, I did not only get tired of football in general and the fact that only ever the same big clubs would win the international competitions, but also I grew tired of Celtic’s extreme leftist support who always seemed to be playing the political victim card. I witnessed individuals during Celtic’s pre-season friendly matches in Germany being called Nazis and fascists for no reason or maybe simply for not subscribing to the mainstream narrative of how a Celtic supporter is meant to behave.
I mean, look at me – a German-born, Protestant-raised atheist (at the time) who had quit the church wasn’t exactly the best fit. I also never really subscribed to their ‘everything and everybody who does not agree with our world view is a racist’ sentiment but, in fact, when I did see myself getting down to that level on isolated occasions, it was usually when my personal life was going less than great. On one of those occasions I found myself cheering on the president of our Spanish supporters club for flying to London to celebrate the recent death of Margaret Thatcher at Picadilly Circus with a bottle of champagne he had kept in anticipation for this particular event to occur.
The Celtic song still keeps playing in the back of my head.
Let the people sing their stories and their songs and the music of their native lands. Their lullabies and battlecries, their songs of hope and joy, so join us hand in hand…
But looking at the club and its support nowadays I simply can’t support them anymore. If I was to go back to Scotland nowadays, I would probably even go to Ibrox and watch a Rangers match.
Have you ever lost yourself so badly that you didn’t knew who you were or what you stood for anymore? That’s me right now. Or maybe I have outgrown an old version of myself and I’m still feeling uncomfortable in the new version…
Whatever you want to call it, I seem to be a complete mirror image of my former self and I have lots of things to figure out at this point in my life. I call it “the derby within” as a Celtic vs. Rangers game is called the “Old Firm Derby”.
Last night I dreamt of having the choice to wear either a Celtic or a Rangers top and I honestly couldn’t decide and I asked someone else which one he liked better – probably my subconscious mind telling me that I’m giving too many fucks about other people’s opinions…
Purely logically speaking I think I’m looking at a duality issue here – seeming opposites that apparently contradict one another and therefore rule each other out..
How can I support Celtic as a protestant, atheist, whatever?
How can I support Celtic being completely opposed to what most of them stand for politically?
How can I support Rangers despite the fact that I used to be a die-hard Celtic supporter with a Celtic tattoo on my chest?
Let’s put the fact aside that I don’t really care for football at all anymore but apparently my subconscious does speak a language that I can relate to and, for the longest time now, I have been looking for a place I could belong, where I could really say THIS IS HOME! The only place I ever felt that before was in Glasgow over a decade ago and every attempt at returning there has failed since.
A sign?
