'The Generation Game – Celtic Family, father to son'

In a week, which for reasons I wont trouble you with, has been an emotional rollercoaster for myself and my family, it’s apt that it ends poignantly with a national day of celebration.
The rollercoaster journey I’ve been on this week had more ups and downs, highs and lows, thrills and spills, than a ‘free ride’ day at Alton Towers or Blackpool Pleasure Beach, yet still significantly less than any single day of the terminal ‘administration process’ of our dearly departed neighbours.
On that note, may we all join together this Sunday, a day of peace and poignantly Fathers Day, rest our eyes, bow our heads and silently pray for our neighbours loss…my sincere condolences to those no longer with us!
Perhaps you may regard either a minutes silence, or applause, a more personal tribute.
That brings me not to gloat, well not in it’s sole intent, to point out just how fortunate we are this fathers day.
The Celtic family is alive and well. The gift of joyful participation in the ongoing Celtic, the one and only…the traditional, historical and hopefully immortal, Celtic story can be safely guarded, nurtured and protected and passedon to the generation who follow.
In turn I’m sure this gift will be spread lovingly onto many subsequent generations…oh what a unique gift we have to offer, rejoice in that thought today and ever more.
When the Govan adversary passed on I rejoiced in the fact, I was wrong to.
I should have been more accepting not of what they’d lost, not what form of summary justice had been passed in sentencing of their crimes, nor what level of inheritance I had in ‘bragging rights’…no I should have rejoiced, but more humbly and sincerely, in the fact that my club, my sons club, his childrens club and theirs again, for generation to generation for many years yet, looks to be wholly secured. It looks like a more valuable commodity than I’d ever assumed in the face of ‘their’ loss this week.
I never realised how guilty I was of having took my, my sons, our and our families club for granted before…I won’t make that mistake again.
It’s ironic that this week has been, personally, both devestating and fraught, yet also celebratory and joyous in near equal measure.
Also rather ironically, this week saw the Olympic Torch relay procession pass through Scottish shores. Many main roads ground to a halt as union jacks were triumphantly present.
Some may find less irony in those moments than my twisted mind did.
In my mind, the idea of any mass celebrations of this mythical ‘British nation’ passing joyously along through purely Scottish ground, at a time when Scotlands, ‘historically’, previously proud ‘British’ alinged footballing institution, an establishment club non the less…was slipping meekly from it’s terminal state into a forever deceased state.
All the more so, as it’s fatal pronunciation was declared by none other than ‘Dr’ HMRC…the queens private consultant.
It’s reason to celebrate, not only that the famous flame was passed in near perfect relay handovers and that it remained un-extinguished, but that what also passed this week from Scottish to English hands was the corpse of RFC (RIP).
Post mortem results may take some time to be delivered, none the less, that particular report will be well worth reading.
Further investigations may depend upon it’s clinical, methodical and in-depth analysis of the body in question.
Like the Olympic flame, we remain well, we shine yet brightly and radiate positive confirmation to the world…the Celtic story is a live one, it’s finally chapter seems no closer to conception than ever.
It our passion to pass yet on through generations, our children, their childrens children thereafter, will have a club, an institution to care and to nurture…only the Old Firm has died, we defiantly persist!!
** I wrire this article in loving devotion to my son Jordan…I and your ‘Celtic’ family miss you each and every day. I pray for your safe and speedy return…yours forever, your despairingly absent dad! x x **
@brianbhoy07

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