Tommy Burns RIP

May 2008 will go down in the annals of Celtic’s history as one of the most turbulent ever with the untimely death of one of our favourite sons followed by one of the greatest comebacks ever witnessed in the Scottish game.

The connection between the two cannot be underestimated as Tommy provided the inspiration to push us over the finishing line for 3 In A Row just a week before the scenes of joy at Tannadice when we mourned his passing significantly at the home parish of the club.

The Jungle Bhoys were privileged to be amongst fan group representatives at the funeral on a day no Celtic fan will ever forget.

The magnificent setting of St Mary’s chapel in the Calton could not have been more fitting for a man held in such high esteem at Celtic. Not surprisingly the chapel was full an hour before the requiem mass began.

The great and the good of Scottish football were all in attendance but Tommy would have felt just at ease amongst the fans who wore their Celtic tops with pride. Outside the streets were thronged with mourners so much so that it was a task just to get inside the chapel.

A member of the Burns family welcomed everyone individually and thanked everyone for their support which was a magnificent touch of class from a family in mourning.

Perched high in the balcony on the left side we looked directly over and down at the full Celtic squad, management and board dressed immaculately to a man in black suit, white shirt and black ties. Only the flamboyant Dermot Desmond in his favourite lilac shirt and purple tie stood out from the rest. Directly above ordinary fans in their hoops sat silently in prayer.

Unusually and very significantly Rangers FC behaved with dignity and were well represented by Walter Smith, Ally McCoist, Kenny McDowall, Martin Bain, Barry Ferguson, David Weir, Sandy Jardine and John Greig. The fact that the latter pair did not have to share a dressing room with a Catholic throughout their 30 odd years at Ibrox showed a significant sign of changed times.

Bishop Devine himself commented how happy he was to see Smith and McCoist help carry Tommy’s coffin, before adding wisely that especially as there were many who would not be so happy (amongst the Rangers support).

Rangers FC are to be commended for their dignity and respect on this occasion.

Just one look at the Order of Service and you could see Tommy’s touch all over it. This was a man who had come to terms with his fate and had prepared to meet his maker in every detail including the choice of powerful hymns that raised the spirit and filled the heart with warmth, ensuring we celebrated his life as well as mourning his passing.

Before the requiem mass began there was time to quietly reflect on the life of a genius with that cultured sweet left foot that had brought so much happiness into our hearts. I re-renacted every goal i could think of but even better i re-enacted his celebrations as he ran to us with his arms outstretched and his head back looking up to the sky as if to thank god for the gifts he had been given.

I remembered him too as our Manager and the sheer delight i felt when his appointment was announced. The Scottish Cup Final of 95 was my favourite memory as Tommy won us our first trophy in 6 long years. The tears that flowed after that match as we watched Tommy and Peter Grant represent everything we were came flooding back into my mind. Tommy made sure we played football the Celtic way and the fans, post Revolution, flocked back to Paradise in our droves.

The fantastic work Tommy continued to do for the club bringing through player after player with his youth development skills and of course Tommy’s legacy which is Lennoxtown and which surely will soon carry his name.

Then of course there was Tommy the person. That humble personable ghuy in the street who felt just at home with the fans as he did with the players or the management. In fact he probably felt most at home with us, the support.

Tommy was everyone’s friend and this was evident in the volume of tributes left at his shrine outside Celtic Park. Everyone it seemed had a picture with Tommy.

Soon the silence was broken as Billy Stark stepped up to the altar to give an emotional eulogy on his best friend which espoused the three words that Tommy held dear, football, faith and family.

There was humour too as Billy spoke of Tommy’s less than perfect domestic skills. On one ocassion he assured wife Rosemary that he could take care of removing the tiles in the bathroom, err with a hammer and on another ocassion when he complained to Rosemary who had taken a short break abroad that the house was cold. “Turn on the heating” replied his beloved. “How do i do that?” replied Tommy. A man after my own heart in every way!

Soon the hairs on the back of my neck were standing to attention as approximately 50 priests in full robes walked down the aisle to celebrate the requiem mass. What a sight it was.
The accompanying hymns “Walk With Me Oh My Lord” and “Ave Maria” had the tears streaming down my cheeks as the old faith showed itself in its full magnificence. There aren’t too many more breathtaking sights and sounds than a requiem mass in full swing i thought to myself.

There was no doubting the high esteem Tommy was held in the Catholic Church. From the biggest names in the game to the First Minister Alex Salmond to the common man in the street we all joined as one to pay homage to a Celtic Legend who was blessed with greatness as well as the common touch.

The powerful atmosphere inside the chapel brought my mind back to a childhood memory when i was at the funeral of Brian McGrane, a young up and coming Celtic reserve player from my parish who helped train our Boys Club and who had his life taken away tragically young in 1977 through leukemia.

The full Celtic squad was at the funeral that day too in St Joseph’s chapel in Clydebank and i remember standing staring at the team throughout the whole mass. As an altar boy at the time i remember thinking i may be serving the altar but instead i was dropped to the bench which was probably the right decision as the priest knew my concentration levels would be affected by the presence of big Jock etc.

Instead i was given the menial task with a wee thumb clicker of counting the numbers going into the chapel which would be full. Standing at the chapel entrance just before the mass started the full Celtic team arrived and stood only feet away from me. I remember standing rigid as Father Sheery quickly chased me inside to take up my seat. Just minutes before he had been tipped off that the team was about to arrive and he stood outside with me and was keen to find out how i was getting on. “Remember don’t count the heads”, he said. “Count the legs and divide by two!” I think it took me about ten minutes to work out the priest who usually put the fear of God into me was winding me up in my childhood innocence.

Another tear rolled down my cheek and soon i was back at St Mary’s. Again the hymns lended themselves beautifully to the ocassion as we sang together. “In bread we give you Lord, our bodies labour” led the offertory, before “Here i am Lord, is it i Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go Lord if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart.”

How apt were those words i thought. The hymns had been chosen carefully and to great effect. Communion lasted over twenty minutes as the queues snaked all round the aisles.
Parish priests who knew Tommy from St Mary’s, Newton Mearns and the Bishop himself all paid tribute to Tommy and it was fitting that Bishop Devine mentioned Gordon Strachan’s words about the best part of working at Celtic Park for three years was meeting Tommy. Again the tears flowed and so the tributes followed.

The parish priest from St Mary’s raised a laugh when he spoke of the first time he met Tommy, “the fellow red head as you can clearly see”. The years hadn’t been kind as the priest was as bald as a coot! Tommy’s local parish priest spoke warmly of Tommy who he first met when he was transferred to Newton Mearns and he remembered the welcome he received from Tommy which spoke volumes for his generosity of spirit.

The full mass lasted two hours and soon Tommy was taken from the chapel to his final resting place which is often the most emotional part of any funeral. Again the beautiful hymns set the tone. “Our God Reigns” raised the roofs as even the hardest amongst us broke down and wept openly.

“How lovely on the mountains are the feet of him
Who brings good news, good news
Announcing peace, proclaiming news of happiness
Our God reigns, our God reigns”

What a beautiful way to take your leave, i thought. Outside the chapel the sun shone brightly as St Mary’s, the Catholic Church and the Celtic support gave Tommy a tremendous send off that did him proud.

I watched outside as many of my heroes wept and consoled each other with great dignity. I watched as the first team passed and almost naturally and out of instinct i looked around for Tommy. My heart sank again at the cruel realisation that we wouldn’t see him again.

Thousands lined the streets as the large Tommy Burns, Calton Bhoys banner made by the Jungle Bhoys hung proudly from the top of Abercromby Street. Three coaches took the Celtic players and officials, the Centenary team and friends and family to the crematorium but not before they were diverted via Celtic Park for Tommy’s final farewell.

The short drive along the Gallowgate would only take minutes but there was only one place i wanted to be. I decided to hot foot it towards London Road as fast as my feet would carry me in order to pay my last respects to my hero at the place where i had worshipped and idolised him for so many years.

As luck would have it i managed to cadge a lift from a fellow mourner who dropped me off at the corner of London Road at the Police station. The rest of the road was blocked to traffic and as i made my way towards Celtic Park i could hear that familiar chant rise throughout the air.

“Tommy Burns, Tommy Burns, Tommy Burns” chanted the tens of thousands outside Celtic Park just as i made it in time to see Tommy’s cortege for the last time turn right out onto London Road. I joined in the chanting of his name as i had done so many times before, this time though i felt empty and not full of joy as we normally did when chanting the name Tommy Burns.

With Tommy’s beautifully made Order of Service in my hand I turned homewards gaining strength from the thousands of fans who like me were paying their respects to the man who was Celtic to them.

“I’m just a fan who got lucky” the final page said in Tommy’s humble way. As Tommy looked down on us that day there was no doubt it was we who were the lucky ones.

God bless you Tommy.