Originally Posted by
Austinho
Hi Scott, my Cup Final story is completely ridiculous and has absolutely everything in it, so thought I would share!
A break up, a world record, a surprise visit, a dust up with airport security, an embarrassing misunderstanding and a fairytale ending. Here we go:
It’s 1am in Auckland, NZ. The TV is on full blast and we’ve just gone to penalties with Dundee United in the semi. I’d been travelling the world for 3 years, living out of a suitcase and sleeping in bed bug infested bunkbeds for months at a time, but for the last few weeks I’d finally settled into the real world, and even got myself a Kiwi girlfriend. No way was I missing the final though, so I decided to put an end to that if Hibs were victorious. “If we win, I’m going home for it” I said to my new girlfriend. She knew that wasn’t an invitation, and she knew I probably wouldn’t be coming back. Personally, I blame Conrad Logan for the breakup. Having slept through my alarm and missed the Ross County final months earlier, no way was I missing this one.
I hadn’t seen my parents since 2014, so I kept my return home a secret. In the days leading up to the final, I had already booked some adventurous travel plans in New Zealand, so by the time it came to fly home for the Scottish Cup Final, it meant my route to Hampden turned into a world record away day. No man or woman has EVER travelled as far for one match as I did, of that I have no doubt. I hitchhiked from Southern New Zealand, I took buses, flew to Auckland, flew to Australia, flew to the Middle East, flew to Manchester, got the train to Preston, got the train to Carlisle, and eventually up to Glasgow by car. My relationship officially ended in the airport terminal in Auckland.
I should mention I didn’t even have a ticket when I was on my way back. Hibs changed the date of the public sale, which meant I was going to be flying somewhere over the Pacific Ocean when the scramble began. I didn’t know WiFi on planes even existed, so Emirates saved my bacon. I had just made it past the queue for online tickets by the time we landed. The whole plane had cleared and the cleaners were doing their rounds as I desperately tried to type in my credit card details. Airport security were alerted, and I was escorted off the plane nearly crying as the page kept buffering. An anxious hour wait through customs and next thing I know I get a confirmation email just as my phone connected to the airport WiFi. I’m going to the match!
Keeping my visit from my parents was the hardest part. The plan was to just show up at the stadium and completely surprise them, but in order to keep it a secret, I was unable to get a ticket next to my dad, despite the help of a family friend. By the time I got home the night before the match, I was so knackered I just wanted to see my family and have my own bed instead of hiding in another hotel for the night. I knocked on the door, much to their disbelief. I was glad I was able to share the pre match excitement with them. The look on their faces was priceless.
The day of the game was a blur. I was sat by myself behind the goals, which they were in the South Stand. All I remember is the ridiculous fairytale ending. And in a ridiculous twist of fate - the pitch invasion meant I was able to find my Dad and celebrate our glorious cup win with him, just in time for Sunshine on Leith to belt over the tannoy.
I got a bit carried away the night of the cup parade, missed my last train home, was going to have to sleep on the street until my ex girlfriend came to the rescue. Weird, but nice to catch up even though I embarrassed myself from a day of drinking whisky from a hip and muddied from sliding down the hill in Leith Links. The morning after the parade, I was walking past Easter Road looking very worse for wear, when a Scouse man approached me and asked if I enjoyed the match. I ecstatically recited the whole above story, before asking if he’d “watched the match on TV”. It was John Doolan, the bloody assistant manager I later discovered when I saw footage of him lifting the trophy. My time as a traveller had obviously kept me out of the loop.
Soon after, I moved back to Sydney, Australia, but not before taking in a trip to Copenhagen to watch us in Europe. If they are the last two Hibs games I ever get to see in the flesh, then what a way to go out.