“Excuse me, can you keep a secret? I'm 95% sure I'm a lesbian”
According to the Futbology app, this was my 1215th live football match, but definitely the first that started with a stranger still next to me on the bus deciding that I was the perfect person to come out the closet to.
After attempting to provide some brief therapy that everything was going to be fine, we arrived in Edinburgh. Amongst the hundreds of Americans who were here for two reasons - firstly to go on overpriced Harry Potter tours, and secondly to show an impressive lack of awareness of how loudly they were speaking. Forget Harry Potter, I was here for a different type of magic.
Sunshine on Leith. The best football song in the world.
It has been a goal of mine to hear this song sung in person for ten years, ever since Hibs beat Rangers in the Scottish Cup final and the best football video on YouTube was born. If you haven't seen the footage of Hibs fans singing after winning the trophy for the first time in 114 years, cancel your plans for the rest of the day and get it on repeat.
It's not something easy to hear. Such iconic anthems as “You'll never walk alone” or “Chelsea, Chelsea, CHELSEA, Chelsea” are sung every game, but this one isn't. It's only heard after a win, and even then, only a special win.
If they managed it, this would certainly be a special win. Hibs played European football before any other Scottish team, and even beat the English clubs in doing so, playing in the very first European Cup in the 1955/56 season.
They've been back in Europe many times since then, but have never played in a group stage. They’ve thrown away so many late leads and found spectacular ways to lose that a special term was coined in Scottish football for particularly heartbreaking defeats - “Hibsed it”
Now, the dream of the group stage and leaving this unwanted expression behind was well within sight.
After beating clubs from Kosovo and Macedonia in the previous rounds, it all came down to this. Gent of Belgium were the opposition, and an impressive 0-0 draw in the first leg had set things up beautifully for the Hibees to get the job done at Easter Road.
I knew I had to be there, but the Edinburgh Fringe still being in full swing meant that the hotels were even more expensive and full of insufferably loud Americans than usual.
Not to be put off, I booked a hotel in Dunfermline instead, leading to the aforementioned bus journey/therapy session on my way into the city.
It was my first time visiting, and it really is a fantastic place. 80% of buildings look like they could be on the album cover of a moody emo band, and you can see why the city has inspired so many poets and various artists over the years.
After a pleasant few hours strolling around and accidentally walking through at least four very serious-looking Instagram photoshoots, it was time to make my way up towards the stadium.
After a few pints of the Hibs-themed beer in The Mash Tun pub (in 99% of cases if you name a beer after a football team I'm going to try it immediately), it was time to head inside.
Before I cover the game, I have to call out a local establishment and the throne of lies they sit upon. I'm talking to you, £2 Pizza Slice and your £3 slices of pizza. The game has never been more gone.
Easter Road is a properly imposing stadium, in particular the towering main stand, and with the confidence of someone who hasn't spent decades watching Hibs find new and exciting ways to lose in the most devastating way possible, I was full of confidence. They weren't going to “Hibs it”, and I was finally going to get to hear the anthem to end all anthems.
After polishing off a 9/10 macaroni pie, the stadium filled up and the ultras to my left displayed two large banners - firstly “Stop hoping, start believing”, followed by “The HFC are going international” with a picture of the world being held in the hands of Hibs supporters.
That confidence was not shared by those around me. The guy sitting in front of me was even more negative than the one fan of my club I like to joke would complain that the ribbons on the trophy weren't long enough if we won the Champions League, and within 30 seconds he declared “Awww we've lost this”. Hibs had a throw in at the time.
For the opening half hour, the pessimism seemed misplaced, with Hibs being the better team and missing one particularly good chance - blazing over the bar when one on one with the keeper.
To the dismay of 18,999 or so people and the delight of the world's most negative man, Gent scored with their first decent chance, one that the goalkeeper won't want to see again when they watch the analysis later this week.
The majority of the crowd lifted the noise to try and inspire a comeback, while Mr Negative went through a list of everyone connected to the club he thought was “shite”.
By the time he'd gotten around to the groundsman and the person in the mascot costume that appeared to be some kind of dog, the referee blew his whistle for the interval.
It was a new Hibs that came out for the second half, as they tore the Belgian visitors to shreds. Just two minutes after the restart, the ball is in the net and the place is going wild, with floodlights flashing and a roar so loud it would even drown out the noise of a table of American tourists having dinner.
However, VAR had other ideas. The ball had seemingly brushed someone's arm about three hours ago, and that was enough to rule it out. VAR continues to be the second worst thing in football, only behind the continued existence of Pontypridd United FC. Even worse, the ref originally pointed in the wrong direction, making it appear the goal had been allowed, before changing his mind and deciding no fun was allowed in football after all.
The injustice fired Hibs up even more, and the atmosphere was rocking now. Ten minutes after they should have equalised, this time they did, and VAR begrudgingly decided it couldn't find an insect that had crawled onto the pitch in an offside position or a Hibs fan putting their pie wrapper in the bin instead of the mixed recycling, and the goal had to be given.
The first bars of Sunshine on Leith were starting to play in my head, as I tried to tell myself not to get carried away.
20 minutes later, and any pretence of not getting carried away has gone out the window. Hibs have been rampant, with the Gent fullbacks having a very long evening, and the second goal has finally arrived.
The stadium has erupted, and even Mr Negative has allowed himself a brief respite from listing the various members of the squad and staff he wants imprisoned. Never mind hearing the first bars of the song in my head, Sunshine on Leith is now playing on repeat, at maximum volume, louder than if I was stood next to the speaker on a Friday night in Ibiza.
I should have paid more attention to the lyrics.
Time never passes more slowly than it does when waiting for a football match to end when you're one goal up, and this was definitely the case here. Hibs had been by far the better team in the second half and probably should have scored a third. But they didn’t.
With each passing minute that Hibs don’t put the game to bed, it became more and more obvious what was going to happen. And then, it happened. Gent score from a corner in the 84th minute, with another goal the keeper will be disappointed with. Sunshine on Leith stops playing in my head.
A Hibs defender makes a terrible mistake, and puts Gent in on goal, three on one. The one does his best, but can only turn the ball into his own net as he attempts to keep it out. A minute later, the same player picks up a second yellow card and is sent off. It’s over. They’ve Hibsed it.
Sorrow. Sorrow. Sorrow. Sorrow.
I understood now why the average Hibs fan was seemingly in a permanent state of utter misery. I'd only supported them for two hours, and they'd already made me sad. I begin the journey back to Dunfermline, where nobody tells me they’re a lesbian. In fact, nobody speaks at all. They just stare out the window, mute their Hearts supporting friends on WhatsApp, and wish they never liked football in the first place.
I still believe I'll hear the song one day.
On reflection, hearing it on the first visit without disappointment and perseverance along the way wouldn't be the Hibs way. The time will come when I get to belt it out, and the wait will make it even better.
Just please don’t take 114 years.
