Make that a double, as legends of '72 reunited

FORTY-FIVE minutes before kick off, Willie Johnston is leaning against the bar, cradling a mug of coffee, bemoaning the fact that his pub is half-empty.

"They're a' down there," he says. "But Steiny's here," he adds, more brightly.

"Steiny?"

"Colin Stein."

That's right: Johnston's Port Brae pub, a throw-in from the Esplanade in Kirkcaldy, contains not one, but two, legends of the Rangers' Cup Winners' Cup team of 1972. Almost 20 per cent of the team that prevailed 36 years ago in Barcelona – surely the highest number of '72 legends outside the City of Manchester Stadium.

Even more impressively, here, in this small pub in Kirkcaldy, stand 100 per cent of the goalscorers, Stein having grabbed one, Johnston two, of Rangers' three goals that night. A third legend, Alfie Conn, has a hotline to the bar. He is in Manchester but is just off the phone. "It's unbelievable down there," says Johnston, shaking his head as if relieved not to be in the melee, but here in his half-full pub.

Still, the obvious question is, were they not tempted to go? "Oh aye," says Stein, fixing me with an are-you-crazy expression. "I had two tickets from the club, but my boy's there."

The ace striker – who is now a keen bowler – preferred to share the moment with his old pal Johnston. And as he orders another pint he confirms that he won't be going home tonight. "I'm here til the death: extra time, penalties, whatever. We're partying!"

He's confident. And he acknowledges it's a special, historic occasion – "Of course it is: Rangers are in a European final!" – and that he feels a deep connection with the current team. "Oh yes, I do, definitely.

It'll be tight tonight, but I think Rangers will win."

Then, seemingly acting impulsively on his growing confidence, he nips out to the bookies, just as the grainy footage of the 1972 final is relayed on the four screens dotted around the pub. He misses his own goal. When he returns he confirms that the bet he has placed is on Rangers. "Well I wasnae going to bet on Zenit, was I?" he points out. Then Johnston's first, headed goal is shown, and he too appears to be missing. He reappears in the bar having refreshed his mug of coffee. Mind you, he's probably seen the goal before.

Does Johnston not wish he was in Manchester? "I had two tickets as well, but nah. I don't go to many of the games. Nah."

It is close to kick-off, the pub is filling up, and Johnston, neatly presented in shirt and tank top, turns his attention to solving the problem of the sun streaming in off the Forth. He goes to close the curtains just as the screens show his coolly-taken second goal, but he pointedly ignores requests to turn round and relish it again.

While Johnston is attending to the mundane responsibilities of the landlord, a friend of his, Bobby Grubb, who lives upstairs, strikes up a conversation. Was he not tempted to go to Manchester?

"Naw," he replies, almost choking on his lager. "I'm a Celtic supporter. Usually wear my Celtic strip in here. I've got money on St Petersburg – a couple of hundred."

His presence – there is another Celtic fan, he says, similarly tucked away in the corner at the other end of the bar – is a refreshing indication that the atmosphere inside Johnston's pub is inclusive and welcoming – so friendly, in fact, that a work station, cleverly utilising the pool table, is set up for your reporter. "There's a good mix here," says Grubb. "Four Hearts, one Hibee, two Aberdeen, two Celtic, the majority Rangers… three or four Raith Rovers."

"I support any Scottish team in Europe," says the Raith Rovers fan.

"I don't," retorts Grubb. Otherwise, the pluralism is evident on the wall: there are four souvenir picture frames, the largest of which is a tribute to the West Brom team for which Willie Johnston dazzled after leaving Rangers within months of the European success. Alongside it is a frame containing memorabilia – picture of the stadium, match ticket, postcard with the team's autographs – from that night in Barcelona; and alongside that are two identical displays, one commemorating Aberdeen's success in Gothenburg in 1983, the other celebrating Celtic's in 1967.

"Everyone is welcome in here," confirms Grubb. "It's that kind of place."

"I'm nervous tonight," admits Johnston as the game gets underway, the bar having filled, and the noise approaching cacophonous proportions. "Not normally, but tonight I am. If it goes to penalties I'm out of here.

I'm going outside."

As the half wears on his fingernails dig deeper into the bar. "I just want to get to half-time," says one of his regulars. The game is 14 minutes old.

But they do get to half-time without conceding.

Johnston's verdict: "Mibbes aye, mibbes no," he says, flashing a toothy grin. "If it was a boxing match it would've been stopped. I'm joking. But Zenit are a good team; a very good team." He would like to see "wee Novo" – the current Rangers player that most resembles Johnston himself, in size if not in ability.

Meanwhile, Stein's glass is half-full – literally as well as metaphorically, which is why he's queuing at the bar for a refill. "The longer the game goes on, the stronger Rangers will be," he says confidently. "I'm not nervous, not at all. Zenit are not better than Werder."

The atmosphere is raucous. As the game wears on the confidence grows, for all that Sasa Papac, on his few marauding runs down the left wing, is no Johnston. And then comes the Zenit goal. A hush falls, so deadly that Fraser Wishart can be heard describing it as "a hammer blow."

"Nacho!" the pub cries – not a request for Johnston to produce Mexican-style bar food, but a plea for Novo to enter the fray. He does; the place erupts.

Towards the end Johnston disappears from his station at one end of the bar – attending to more tasks, or displacement activities. He reappears for the final few minutes, chewing his lip nervously.

A banner held aloft in the City of Manchester Stadium proclaimed that last night's Rangers team could become legends.

In the event, they didn't quite become legends. But at least those in Kirkcaldy's Port Brae pub can say that they watched the game in the company of a couple.