Graeme Souness was an incendiary presence at almost every club he managed. At Rangers it was he who signed Mo Johnson, the highest-profile Roman Catholic player to join the Gers for several generations and a former Celtic forward to boot.
A city long divided by sectarianism became a tinderbox that day and for some time thereafter. The transfer was even described recently – 34 years after the event – as Scottish football’s ‘JFK moment’.
Later, on returning to Liverpool, the club he captained to so much success as a player, Souness caused deep and sincere hurt on Merseyside by giving an exclusive interview with the Sun newspaper that was published on the anniversary of the Hillsborough disaster. The Scot has apologised since, calling it an ‘almighty rick’ on his part.
With Liverpool becoming an ever-lessening feature in the Premier League odds, his stint in the Anfield hot-seat ended acrimoniously soon after.
Later still, his two years at Newcastle are best recalled for Lee Bowyer and Kieran Dyer having fisticuffs mid-game and though Souness was not directly involved in this sorry episode who’s to say the culture he installed at St James’ Park wasn’t partly to blame?
Besides, the funniest aspect was undoubtedly a man who makes Roy Keane look like a bookish peacenik offering both players out post-game.
Placing such a turbulent individual therefore into the infamously fiery environs of Turkish football was always going to lead to some variation of a moment of madness. It was akin to throwing a lit match into a box of fireworks.
Yet Souness’ appointment by Galatasaray in June 1995 was hardly enthusiastically received by the Gala faithful, the club’s legions of ultra-passionate fans not convinced by a manager who had been out of work for over a year.
Their doubts only intensified when their new gaffer brought over with him a raft of limited British fare - Mike Marsh anyone? – and Galatasaray’s league campaign duly floundered.
In the Turkish Cup however, one of the giants of the Super Lig were making serious progress, Souness’ side justifying their short-odds in the sports betting by navigating a path to a two-legged final.
And it was at this juncture that the rest of the footballing world rubbed their hands with glee, when it was confirmed that Gala’s opponents in the spring of 1996, in one of the country’s marquee fixtures, was none other than their long-standing arch-rivals Fenerbahce.
To explain about Galatasaray and Fenerbahca, consider Liverpool and Manchester United. Now, take away any sliver of respect or reciprocity that may begrudgingly exist beneath the surface when these two English foes meet.
Add in two fan-bases known for their extreme fervor and throw Souness into the mix, and potentially there would be carnage. It was surprising then that the first leg passed off without much incident, Galatasaray taking, and holding onto, a one goal advantage on home soil.
In the return contest though all hell broke loose as a frenetic 1-1 draw ensured that Gala won a trophy at the ground of a club that didn’t like them especially much.
On the final whistle missiles were hurled onto the pitch along with flares, and amidst these crazy scenes some mischievous person handed Souness a huge Galatasaray flag.
Remembering a Fenerbahce director calling him a ‘cripple’ on his appointment – referring to the Scot’s triple heart by-pass operation some years earlier – and fired up by victory, Souness proceeded to run to the centre-circle, planting the flag meaningfully into the turf.
A rare burst of pace meant he got out alive and subsequently his actions have gone down in legend in one half of Istanbul, his stance compared to a historic act of defiance, also involving a flag, during the Ottoman siege of Constantinople 500 years before.
But of course, it wasn’t in homage to that. Not one bit. It was Souness being Souness, a man eternally followed around by controversy and madness.
*Credit for all of the photos in this article belongs to AP Photo*
