April 7, 1973 and the 11-year-old Trubshaw is off to his first Celtic game.
After moaning the face off my dad to be allowed to go, he arranged for a friend to take me to Hampden for the cup semi-final against Dundee.
My dad wasn’t a football fan so I had no family links leading me to what team to support. My uncle Mark took me to a few Clydebank games in the old Bankies Club where the adults watched the game in a clubhouse behind the goals and binged on beer and whisky, but I never had a great affinity with them despite being my local team.
Off to Hampden on the Duntocher O’Donnells supporters bus. Learning a habit that would stay with me to this day, I missed the kick off due to waiting outside the pub while my guardian and his mates had a few bevvys. Nowadays, though, I’m inside the pub.
The excitement was unbearable as I entered Hampden and climbed the steep stairs to get my first view of the Hoops. First player I saw was the genius in the No.4 shorts, the late, great Bobby Murdoch.
I don’t remember much about the game. The build up is more ingrained in my memory. We drew 0-0, won the replay 3-0 the following Wednesday and that was that. I was hooked. A regular until 2000 when circumstances meant I had to give up my season ticket just as Martin O’Neill gave us the best European times since Jock Stein.
Hunter, McGrain, Brogan, Murdoch, McNeill, Connelly, Dalglish, Lennox, Deans (Johnstone), Hay and Callaghan.
I cheated. I had to research the team. But what a team.
Celtic – the best team in the land.