Gretna: the European dream

Spare a thought today for Lofty. He has followed his beloved Gretna for more than 50 years. Now, to his delight and amazement, the football club are off to Europe. The only problem is that Lofty (aka George Grant) has a morbid fear of flying. He has never been in an aeroplane in his 70 odd years.

Still, not to worry, Lofty. The man who came to the rescue of the club is coming to rescue you. Brooks Mileson, Gretna's millionaire owner, says that, no matter where the club goes on its European odyssey, he'll be driving Lofty there.

Mr Grant, known as Lofty because of his 6ft 2in frame, was unavailable for comment yesterday. The excitement of the night before, when Hearts clinched a place in the Champions League, meaning Gretna's appearance in the Scottish Cup final next weekend will automatically lead to the Uefa Cup next season, had made him feel a little peaky . . .

But Mr Mileson said: "No matter where we go, I'll get him there. By car, by train, or whatever. That man has been with the club since it was a field. There's no way he is going to miss Europe."

If there is anything smaller than a minnow in European football – a tadpole perhaps – then Gretna qualifies. It is, after all, a village of 3000 people.

Surreal though it may be, here is a club which dreamed the dream and then went on to live it. There was an otherworldly feel about the place yesterday. A sense that this could not possibly be happening. But it is.

"Agog" would be as good a word as any to describe Gretna's residents yesterday. No one was happier than Mary Telfer, born and bred in the village and a fan all her days.

Mind you, her delight may not have been unconnected with the fact that she makes the supporters' rosettes. In the coming months, she expects brisk business as her favours go on display across the continent.

"It is absolutely brilliant. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that this wee club would ever be playing in a Scottish Cup final and then in the Uefa Cup. It has given the community such a lift."

Joe Gordon, a nifty outside right for Gretna in his day (which wasn't yesterday, nor the day before), was almost lost for words. Almost, but not quite.

The 78-year-old said: "Gretna is so proud of what the club has achieved. I was amazed. Just amazed. It's when you see it in black and white in the paper that it comes home to you."

Up at Raydale Park, chief executive Graeme Muir cast his mind back to a prophetic conversation he had last year with club chaplain Donald Campbell. Both foot soldiers in the Tartan Army, they had been enjoying a refreshment in a pavement cafe in Oslo shortly before the Scotland-Norway World Cup qualifier.

"Do you ever think," said Mr Campbell, a Dumfries minister, "that one day we will be in a bar in Europe before a Gretna game?"

Mr Muir recalled: "I just looked at him and laughed."

But Mr Campbell was not so daft. Perhaps through some divine intervention, he knew exactly what he was talking about. A few months from now, the pair will indeed be having a drink in some corner of the continent as they prepare for a Uefa Cup match.

"Europe was just something that was smiled and laughed about," said Mr Campbell.

"Living the dream was getting to the SPL, and then we could laugh and joke about Europe. But the reality is that we're in Europe before we're in the SPL.

"We're achieving our ambitions, we're just achieving them the wrong way round. Today people in Gretna are just walking about stunned."

In the local paper shop, Gillian Thomson, 45, said that Europe – and the cup final against Hearts – were all anyone was talking about. And as a Gretna fan she was happy to join in. "Everyone is into it. The place is buzzing. We're just wondering what on earth can happen next. Just getting promotion (to the First Division) was wonderful, to get to the cup final excellent, and this is just the icing on the cake," she said.

Back at Raydale, Brooks Mileson took a deep drag from a cigarette and rubbed his knuckles. They were still sore from the tight grip he'd held on his steering wheel on Wednesday night as he waited to hear on the car radio the result which would take them into Europe.

When it came through, "you could barely hear the commentator for the screams of delight in the car".

Among those screaming was Lofty. And, with a little luck, he'll be roaring in victory again.

When his pal Brooks, the wealthiest chauffeur in Scotland, drives him back from their European appointment with destiny.

Taken from the Herald