"A bigger story than the fall of the Berlin Wall": The historic transfer that shook Scottish football

At Celtic, Johnston scored in every other game on average. He won the league title and the cup, but that wasn’t all: he became a hero. After being shown a red card during an Old Firm derby against Protestant Rangers FC, he crossed himself as he made his way to the dressing room past the opposing fans’ stand. The provocative gesture sparked even more adoration from some, while fuelling further hatred among others. 

After three years at Celtic, Johnston moved abroad to join French side FC Nantes, but by 1989 he wanted to return home: true to form, he initially signed for Celtic again, before, following a remarkable change of heart, he made a completely unexpected move to their arch-rivals. In fact, Rangers signed a Catholic, thereby breaking their unwritten rule that had stood for decades. Not just any Catholic, but a Celtic idol with a notorious past. 

“In Glasgow, this transfer was a bigger story than the fall of the Berlin Wall in the same year,” Danny Grant from the Rangers blog Ibrox Noise told SPOX; he was ten years old at the time. On the 30th anniversary, the Scottish newspaper Daily Record declared it “not just a transfer that shook Scottish football to its very foundations, but one of the most significant moments in the history of this country.”

To grasp the significance of the transfer, one must understand the country, its two main football clubs and their connection to religion. Scotland was originally Catholic before converting to Protestantism in the wake of the Reformation in the 16th century. Unlike neighbouring Ireland, which remained predominantly Catholic. When famine struck the island in the mid-19th century, tens of thousands of Irish Catholics moved to Scotland, where they competed with local Protestants for work and housing.

The two communities soon found themselves divided not only on religion but also on politics: one side backed an independent Republic of Ireland, while the other remained loyal to the monarchy and the United Kingdom. This tension simmered into outright animosity.

That tension soon spilled onto the pitch: Celtic, established by the Catholic St Mary’s parish, versus Rangers, formed by Protestant students. At every Old Firm clash, Irish flags and Union Jacks make each side’s heritage—and allegiances—unmistakably clear.

However, the two clubs soon began to differ in their approach to religion. Catholic Celtic has always been open to everyone on principle; some of the club’s greatest legends are even Protestant. Take manager Jock Stein, for example, who led Celtic to a sensational victory in the European Cup in 1967. When asked whether, given two equally talented players, he would sign the Catholic or the Protestant, Stein replied: “The Protestant, because I know the Rangers won’t take the Catholic anyway.”

At Rangers, an unwritten rule against signing Catholic players took root in the 1920s under the influence of officials and players who belonged to the Orange Order, a radical Protestant organisation named after William III of Orange, who had defeated the Catholic King James II’s army in Ireland.

A few Catholics still played for the club, but they had to hide their faith. South African striker Don Kitchenbrand, for instance, only disclosed his Catholicism years after leaving Ibrox, explaining, “I couldn’t admit it back then. I would have ruined my wonderful life.”

From the 1970s onward, growing political and media pressure pushed the club to drop its policy, and rumours surfaced of a FIFA investigation into alleged discrimination. Rangers officials repeatedly announced the signing of Catholic players, eventually choosing the most sensational options to mark the change.

Mo Johnston left Celtic on good terms in 1987: the club could not—and would not—match the wages on offer elsewhere, so the fans understood why the then 24-year-old moved to Nantes on a lucrative deal. When he sought to return home two years later as the Scottish national team’s first-choice striker, there was only one possible destination.

On 12 May 1989, Celtic formally announced his return. The clubs had agreed a £1.2 million fee, with £400,000 already paid to Nantes. When asked about reported interest from Manchester United, Johnston stated: “There is no other British club I could play for apart from Celtic.”

The following day he travelled with his prospective new teammates on the team bus to the final league match, and a week later he watched the cup final from the stands. Celtic defeated their great rivals, who had already secured both the League Cup and the league title that season. That 1989 championship signalled the start of a nine-year period of Rangers dominance in Glasgow.

Celtic were underperforming on the pitch compared with their city rivals and were in a precarious financial state. The club even struggled to settle the outstanding fee for the Johnston transfer. When Rangers manager Graeme Souness heard about the hold-up, he saw an opening. Ignoring the club’s unwritten religious rule—his wife was Catholic, and his children had been baptised as Catholics—he approached Johnston directly. “Perhaps I was naive, but religion was never an issue for me,” Souness later explained.

Citing better prospects on the pitch and a higher salary, he convinced Johnston—his former Scotland teammate—to switch allegiances. Although the Rangers hierarchy was sceptical at first, they eventually backed the move. “There was resistance within the club and some directors feared that fans would leave us in droves,” Souness wrote in his biography. “But I argued that he would win over the majority of fans with the right attitude through his goals.”

Souness had already convinced Johnston to turn his back on his boyhood club and had persuaded the Rangers board to abandon a decades-old, unwritten rule. There was just one hurdle left: Celtic’s existing contract with Nantes. FIFA stepped in and ruled that Johnston belonged to Celtic—provided the Hoops settled the outstanding fee.

Celtic manager Billy McNeill reportedly demanded payment but then refused to pick Johnston again as punishment for his perceived betrayal. In the end, Celtic declined to pay, recouped the £400,000 already transferred, and the move to Rangers went ahead. Johnston earned a higher salary, while Nantes pocketed a larger transfer fee of £1.5 million.

Until 10 July 1989, most supporters expected Johnston to line up for Celtic the following season. Yet almost exactly two months after his return to Celtic was announced, Rangers unveiled him as their new signing on that historic day.

“I’m delighted to be joining Rangers. I admire Graeme Souness and feel I am moving to one of the biggest, perhaps even the biggest club in Europe,” said Johnston, grinning from behind his blue, white and red Rangers tie. Souness explained: “I would have been a complete fool not to have tried to sign Mo. I’ve said from the start that I have nothing to do with sectarianism.”

Almost immediately, Glasgow was in a state of emergency. Outside Ibrox Park, fans laid wreaths reading “The end of 116 years of tradition”, and some, in tears, burned their season tickets and scarves. The general secretary of the supporters’ association, David Miller, called it “a sad day for Rangers” and declared, “I don’t want to see a single Roman Catholic at Ibrox.” Meanwhile, Celtic fans formally registered the “We Hate Mo Johnston Celtic Supporters Club.”

The green-and-white fury was arguably deeper and longer-lasting than the blue-and-white-and-red variety. Not only had their rivals stolen their player, but the move also made them look foolish. “Of course Rangers fans hated the transfer,” blogger Grant notes. “But it was also a huge middle finger to Celtic fans. They’ll never get over it.”

On the pitch, the transfer paid off: Johnston helped Rangers secure back-to-back league titles. Yet the striker had already appeased many supporters—and, most importantly, kit man Jimmy Bell—with a late, match-winning goal in the Old Firm derby just months earlier. Only then did Bell begin laying out Johnston’s shirt and supplying him with chocolate bars, just like any other player.

Club icon Bell passed away at 69; a minute’s silence was held in his honour during the second leg of the 2022 Europa League semi-final against RB Leipzig. From Johnston’s arrival onward, the kit man regularly prepared shirts for players of other faiths. Catholics soon became the norm at Rangers, especially after the foreign influx triggered by the Bosman ruling.

Harassment persisted: Italian midfielder Gennaro Gattuso, at the club in 1997–98, revealed he had to remove his crucifix necklace in the dressing room. Only in 1998 did the club permit players to make the sign of the cross in public—though not in front of their own fans. The following season, Italian defender Lorenzo Amoruso became the club’s first Catholic captain.

Despite the squad becoming more religiously diverse, the Rangers support has remained staunchly Protestant and proud. Initiatives by the Old Firm rivals have not entirely eliminated sectarian chants that still echo around their grounds. The UEFA has fined the club during European competition, notably in 2006, 2007, 2011 and 2019.

“These songs aren’t really sung to cause offence or for religious reasons, but to cheer on one’s own club,” surmises blogger Grant. For many years, hatred of the other denomination was seen as synonymous with support for one’s own club. Songs were written decades ago against this backdrop, and breaking away from these traditions is evidently difficult.

“There is still sectarianism in Glasgow, but it’s not as bad as it used to be,” says Grant, for whom “the concept of religion is outdated”. He adds that he couldn’t care less that Catholics have long played important roles in his team: “They could be one-eyed, gay saxophone players, as long as they can handle football.”