My old Mum had no real liking of football, but in later years whenever I went to see her in the care home, she would ask how the Hibs had got on, because she knew I went religiously, even when lots of other things had gone from her memory. She even asked in high summer when there was no football on. I used to make up Hibs wins.
Been gone more than three years now. I miss those days
My wee Maw was a Hibby, she didnae ken a fitba fae a rugby baw but knew we played in green and white and once bought me a Celtc colours hooped rugby shirt. I used tae wear a jumper over it when I went tae visit and took the jumper off when I was there.
I've told the story before,my mum worked in a bookshop,Elliotts I think,which was frequented by the Famous 5,her pal worked for a cobblers who mended Hibs players boots.
Her pal was given free tickets and my mum went with her to see what all the fuss was about the Famous 5 and got hooked.
I've never forgiven her
My mum thought professional football was ridiculous - 22 grown men kicking a ball about - and frankly, who could disagree? She was always very supportive of my Hibs-supporting tendencies though. For the 1972 scottish cup final, for example, anticipating a celebration of the end of Hibs 70-year separation from the trophy, she made a football-shaped cake with green and white icing. I showed my gratitude by refusing to eat it while sulking after Hibs lost 6-1.
Her parents' generation were all old-fashioned west coast Proddy bigots. I remember when I was about 10, one of her uncles, on learning that I supported Hibs, looked totally aghast and said "But they're the RC team!". To my parents' credit, I had no idea what he was talking about.
My Mother never attended a game in her life. But she queued at Easter Road many, many times for tickets for my Dad, when he was at work and could not get there himself, because most of her working life she was a conductress and would even change shifts so that she had time enough to stand and wait for tickets. And then, she did the same for me, when I went to work in the Borders, and would always tell me the length of the queue, so that I was aware of the lengths (literally) she had gone to in getting me tickets. But, whenever my Dad or I went home, her first comment would always be either, "Good win the day, eh?" or, "They're no' very good, are they?" (Bowdlerised from her, "Ach, they're shite!") And, unfortunately, she had also passed away on that glorious day 5 years ago. But a totally committed Hibby.