A Killie fan in New York: Behind enemy lines in a Manhattan Celtic pub
Trying to remain silent as Derek McInnes' men outplay the Hoops... but lose
West 33rd Street, in the very shadow of the Empire State Building.
I enter Jack Demsey’s bar, take a left and climb the stairs to the third floor.
“Hello mate,” says the Irish bartender.
“Hi,” I reply.
“What do you think today then?” he says, clocking my Scottish accent.
“Well… I’m a Kilmarnock fan, is that alright?”
“Well… Just don’t cheer if you score. Ah, you probably won’t score, it’ll be grand… Would you like a beer?”
It’s 9.30am.
Read More:
Kilmarnock 0 Celtic 2: Instant reaction to the burning issues
If Stuart Findlay's season is over, Killie's expectations may need to change
For once it’s actually a blessing to be playing one of Glasgow’s big two. I’m on a trip to New York and while the Killie diaspora spans the globe it’s unlikely to ever be big enough to organise a viewing party in another country - well, maybe in Kaiserslautern.
Jack Demsey’s is home to the Manhattan #1 Celtic Supporter’s Club or, as they are otherwise known the, ahem, NY Fenian Bhoys. That particular name takes pride of place on the far wall between a Henrik Larsson jersey and one bearing the name of Timo Weah, who played just 13 games for the club but was born in Brooklyn.
“Your boys had a slow start this season right enough,” says the barman as he sets down a pint of Demsey’s Irish Ale.
Another customer down the bar glances over.
“You a Killie fan?”
I answer in the affirmative. The man explains he’s originally from Dumfries but has been living in New York for the past 32 years. His passion for Celtic remains undimmed, however, and he never misses a game.
“At least you’re not a Rangers fan,” he shrugs, and and it appears I’ve passed the test. Perhaps the fact my t-shirt, a design by Fitbatweets, features Alan Power kicking Ryan Jack in the face is enough to persuade him I’ve no sympathies in that direction.
With kick-off still half an hour away, the screens are showing Tottenham losing 1-0 at home to Ipswich. The Tractor Boys get a second and the barman gives a triumphant yell.
“Ah sure, they’ve got a few Irish lads,” he says. “And Ange can f*** off as well.”