Socrates' Christmas Message

OLD FIRM FANS – the gift that keeps on giving, so well done to Ra Peepul for giving the rest of us a much-needed pre-Christmas laugh with their howls of protest and outrage after that “goal” was ruled out by VAR at Tynecastle on Sunday. Given the number of “Honest Mistakes” - far-less downright examples of refereeing corruption from which the Bigot Brothers – Rangers in particular - have benefitted over the years, I lang syne have grown tired of their pathetic whining whenever, as is now the case, their hopeless club management gets recruitment wrong and their fans have to put up with watching players being paid an absolute fortune for displays which would get them sent down the road from any reasonably well-run Junior team.

I once worked with a Chief Sports Sub who was definitely on the committee of Lodge Lap Top Loyal. We hacks used to wind him up by always listing the two clubs in the order “Celtic and Rangers”; sure enough, the copy would appear in the paper as “Rangers and Celtic”. He was an expert on all things Rangers, mind you, I suspect the last Rangers team he had ever paid to watch had lined-up: Brown, Young and Shaw, McColl, Woodburn and Cox......

I am somehow pleased for him, that he is not still around to have to, even from the comfort of his armchair, watch the 2025 vintage. I fear he would be saying: “That sort of stuff will get fitba stopped.” I fear for our game and where it is headed.

I WATCHED the Hearts v Rangers game on television, but, I have to admit, the pictures were far better for the following game: Celtic v Aberdeen, on good old Radio Shortbread. The difference – the talking heads at Celtic Park were Willie Miller and Packy Bonner, two old-timers who have been there, seen it, done it and got a lobby press full of t-shirts and dvds.

It was a joy to listen to these two waxing lyrical over the 90 minutes. Miller's incredulity when his favourites equalised was a joy to behold – it was wonderful stuff.

OK, when it comes to sports commentary on the radio, nothing, no programme comes close to Test Match Special, but, while the whole pace of commentary etc is different in Football, when you get, as on Sunday, craftsmen such as Oor Wullie and Big Packy, on-form, it's brilliant entertainment.

I mentioned TMS in that last paragraph; the whole concept of that stellar programme is – it's a bunch of mates at the game, discussing issues as they arise. OK, in the time it takes for each delivery in an over, cricket allows conversation threads to naturally arise and be drawn out. This cannot happen in football to the same degree, mind you, some of my most-enjoyable afternoons in press boxes have come about when the fitba was shite and the press had to amuse themselves.

I still chuckle at the young Colin Paterson of the Dumfries and Galloway Standard, wondering what alternative reality he had entered at Palmerston Park one afternoon, when, in an effort to beat the desire to top ourselves at the futility of the game we were covering, a few of us older hands spent the second half debating the relative merits of the Duke Ellington and Count Basie bands, with a slight diversion into the merits of Bix Beiderbecke. You don't get that level of intellectual dissertation at Ibrox or Celtic Park.

Then there was the serious debate at Rugby Park one afternoon, as to how many of the Kilmarnock team we were watching struggle to overcome a guy ordinary Montrose team would have been let in the door during the Golden Days under Willie Waddell.

That particular debate was ended by one of the great fan interventions. A Killie player went down injured and it took several minutes of Hugh Allen at his best to get him back on his feet. During the intermission, a fed-up home fan in the Frank Beattie Stand decided to give the beleaguered board a few word of advice.

This grew into a full-scale rant as the chorus welled-up behind him and not even the steely glare of Walter McCrae could silence the protest. That board was gone en masse within weeks and while there have been one or two traffic bumps since, that was the start of the club's recovery after too-many years in the doldrums.

I pen these words at the height of the pantomime season. Panto isc, like fitba used to be, cheap and cheerful entertainment for the masses. Maybe it's time we stopped treating it as warfare without bullets and got back to making it entertaining.

Willie Miller and Packy Bonner managed that this week, it's time their example morphed onto the field, among their unworthy successors as players.

Merry Christmas Everyone.

 

Cheer Up Wilfried Nancy - The French Have Words For It

WHEN IT COMES to commenting on Scottish Fitba, nobody has come close to the wisdom of Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, the guy credited with first saying: “Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose”. We have been where we are before; ok, not too-often, but, every now and again one of the 'Diddy Teams' rises to the occasion and figuratively boots one or other of the Big Two in the cojones, to the general merriment of the fitba community.

So, while the Celtic Family fulminate amidst wailing and gnashing of teeth, and Ra Peepul celebrate, the rest of us, those of us who do indeed suffer in the cause of a Diddy Team, we look towards Paisley and tell the delirious Buddies to Carpe diem and enjoy the winning feeling. Because, the Big Two will be back to lord it over us soon enough.

We should not be too surprised that the Buddies did the business on Sunday, in its relatively-short existence, under unpteen different guises, The League Cup has thrown-up some unusual winners, it is perhaps the Scottish competition which offers the minor players the best chance of embarrassing the perennial favourites, long may that continue.

The guy I feel most sorry for at Celtic Park is Manager Wilfried Nancy. He maybe didn't realise, when he took the job, the madhouse he had stepped into – well, I think he is starting tae ken noo. Over the last decade and a bit, while the other lot imploded, failed to learn their lesson and have stumbled through upper level management crises, always self-inflicted, the sense of victory entitlement down London Road has gradually ramped up.

Only time will tell if Nancy is to become a great Celtic manager, or one to be almost dismissed as a bad appointment, but, he has certainly dug himself into a hole very quickly.

The thing is, to those of us who marvelled at The Lisbon Lions, or The Quality Street Gang who came after them, this current squad lacks that important element – quality. Even in the dark days, when Celtic were not even Rangers' main challengers domestically, the team had some diamonds. In the 20 years between the end of World War II and Jock Stein returning as Manager, Celtic won:

• 1 League Championship

• 2 Scottish Cups

• 2 League Cups

• In that period they only qualified to play in Europe in three of the nine seasons of European football

OK, that period saw the Celtic Family reduced to celebrating the occasional success, such as the League and Cup double in 1954, Hampden in the sun in 1957 and the lifting of the St Mungo and Coronation Cups, but, for all the disappointments, they could watch teams which contained some stellar talents – home-grown Scottish caps such as Willie Miller and Frank Haffey, Mike Haughney, Dunky Mackay, Jim Kennedy, Bobby Evans, Eric Smith, Paddy Crerand, Billy McNeill, Bobby Collins, John McPhail and Bertie Auld. They had their great Irish trio of Sean Fallon, Bertie Peacock and Charlie Tully.

The Kelly Kids, the youth development system which saw raw diamonds polished to the level of Scotland Under-23 caps was the envy of Scotland, while even journeymen players such as Jock Stein were good enough to win selection for what was at the time, the considerable honour of selection for the Scottish League XI.

I look at some of the exotic multi-national talents on the field on Sunday and I ask: are they really better than home-grown Scots, guys who would be fans on the park might be?

I have long held the belief, in domestic games, Celtic and Rangers are generally facing an opposing side containing three of their own fans – determined to demonstrate, they are good enough to wear the strip; three of four of the other half's fans, determined not to lose to this lot, and that makes for a harder game. The best Celtic and Rangers teams always have had two or three fans on the park, other than Callum McGregor I don't see that in the current Celtic squad.

I reflect on the legacy of The Kelly Kids and The Quality Street Gang, then I look at the reality of Celtic B – currently lying tenth in the 18-club Scottish Lowland League, the fifth tier of the Scottish Football Pyramid, behind such giants of the game as Broxburn Athletic and Gala Fairydean, (no disrespect towards either team intended) and I have to wonder: what is going on at Celtic Park?

When I ruminate on the current situation, it is perhaps just as well that Gerry McNee lang syne put away his lap top. I recall, some 40 years ago, entering The Horseshoe Bar for a liquid lunch with Dan Archer, Doug Gillan and Hugh Taylor (I only keep the best company). On entering, we encountered one of the Titans of Scottish Fitba writing, whose career had been ended prematurely, when he opted for an evening of passion in a Leeds hotel, with a willing Yorkshire lass, to the first leg of the now legendary Leeds United v Celtic Battle of Britain.

This writer was a well-known Partick Thistle fan, as of course was Dan and they consoled each other with a brief acknowledgement of how tough things were at Firhill at that time – I can envisage similar doleful conversations among the Celtic apologists in the media this week.

Meanwhile, my thoughts are with my Buddie friends in the media, guys such as David Ferguson, Bill Leckie, Graeme Macpherson and Charles Young Esq. I bet they are enjoying this week, however, I caution them, gentlemen – dignity and humility in victory.

 

Celtic - Be Afraid

OK – SCOTTISH CUP, Fourth Round draw: Celtic away to a team from the sixth tier of Scottish Fitba. Skoosh-case, how many goals are they going to score? Absolute sure-fire certainty, put them in the Fifth Round pot right now. EXCEPT – the team they have been drawn against is Auchinleck Talbot; Celtic fans, be afraid, be very-afraid. Because, if the Hoops do not treat the 'Bot as dangerous opponents, and the game as a near-European one, then, it could be worse than Inverness Caley Thistle.

Of course, by every Football measurement, the result has to be a Celtic victory – except, this is Talbot they are facing, at Fortress Beechwood, the usual certainties do not apply to this one.

If BBC Shortbread doesn't televise this one live, they need their heads examined. I am delighted for Henry Dumigan and the Talbot committee, Tucker Sloan and his squad, they deserve this game in the spotlight, they will seize the day and, while you still have to lean heavily towards a Celtic win – never say never where the 'Bot are concerned. Eeeka Peeka Pukka Po!!! (If you're from God's County, you'll know what that is all about.)

A couple of my Talbot-supporting friends have got their cup run all worked out. “We see off Celtic, then beat Annan Athletic; we follow that by beating Ayr United and we lift the cup by doing Kilmarnock in the Final”. And Robert Burns will be re-born to document the tale properly.

Apparently, Talbot sold out the game hospitality within minutes of the draw being announced. Those punters who acted quickly knew what they were doing, the ladies of Afflerck who run their catering definitely know how to feed their men – the scran on offer at Beechwood has long been lauded.

ANNAN ATHLETIC, of course, hit the jackpot, with a trip to Ibrox – a nice big, finances balancing cheque to come, plus, given the current state of the Rangers defence, the chance of pulling-off a shock. Ties such as this are indeed: “the magic of the Cup”.

I have long advocated seeding for the Scottish Cup. I know all the claims of how it has long been a fact, the uncertainties of the draw make it more exciting. But, let's be serious. Given how much it costs to run a serious professional club these days, surely we should be taking steps to keep the big guns apart until the later rounds, so we have some big games as closure approaches.

After all there already is a degree of seeding – it is not an all-in draw until this fourth round, the last 32; the smallest of the minnows are factored out long before the biggest fish dive in.

Seeding the draw would actually give us more chance of cup shocks.

From the draw at the weekend, we know already, three of Scotland's top 12 clubs will not be featuring in the fifth round – the last 16. OK, had they lost to a lower-ranked team, it would indeed be “the romance of the cup”. OK, losing to anothr Premier Division club, even one below you in the table, isn't quite as bad as going out to a lower division team, but, you still want as many of your top teams as possible still in contention at the sharp end of the tournament.

Other games don't have their big names clashing in the early rounds, why should Football? It makes no sense.

THE OTHER big fitba news of the week was the naming rights deal for Hampden – which is now to be called the Barclay's Hampden Park. Now, I am not in-favour of re-naming hallowed national institutions, but, as an old Sub-Editor pal of mine was fond of remarking: “shite happens”.

In this instance, before the SFA's pr department starts firing-off reminders to us all about the use of the new name, I shall refer to the wit and wisdom of the late, great Ian “Dan” Archer.

Dan spotted this trend for naming rights etc over 40 years ago, right at the early days of sponsorships and he made an executive decision which to me was typical of his good sense. The rules he laid down to we minions was: “If a competition, or a ground is sponsored, first time you refer to it, use the full sponsored name (e.g. Scottish Gas Scottish Cup) thereafter, call it what we've always called it. The sponsors get their mention, the rest of us don't have to worry about what's what.” As with so much, Dan was on the money.

As for Hampden, to me it will henceforth be Patrick Barclay's Hampden – I think, up there in corporate hospitality in the sky, Paddy and Dan, two absolute Titans of our craft, will be quite happy with that.

LOOKING AHEAD to events in the USA in the summer of 2026 – I wonder, will The Donald suddenly remember he is half-Scottish and try to curry favour with the visiting hordes of the Tartan Army?

If he does, and I will be amazed if he doesn't, will the TA serenade him with a couple of verses of Donald, whaur's yer troosers?

Reflections In The Cold Light Of Dawn

THE LATE Bernard Attenborough – Uncle of you know who, journalist, foreign correspondent and – as James S Rand – best-selling author, used to say: “It was one thing to be capped by the News Chronicle, but, the wise man waited for the BBC to confirm the honour.” That was back in the day, however, recent events mean 'Auntie' is no longer seen as the journalistic organ of record.

However, as we crawl away from the wreckage of last night, the BBC Shortbread stories appear to be correct – WE ARE GOING TO THE 2026 WORLD CUP. “Yippee Kai Hay Muddafukka”.

In view of the opposition, I did not feel it appropriate to break into my stash of Carlsberg Elephant to toast our success. I passed on the 20-year-old Glen Livet – I am saving that for our first win over the All Blacks, so the Glenmorangie was used to salute Sir Stephen Clarke and the troops.

It is said: “If you don't like the Scottish weather, just wait 15 minutes and it will change”; last night showed, that is also true about the 2025 vintage of our national football team. Long experience has taught me, you never know what you are going to get from the national XI, but, in this most-vital of matches, Clarke's Cohort took this to ridiculous lengths.

It was a typically-fraught evening, stretching well beyond the mandatory 90 minutes, but, what a finish – I suppose, when we get around to celebrating the golden anniversary of this victory, there will be at least two million Tartan Army veterans swearing on oath: “I was there”.

I had to make do with the BBC Shortbread coverage, and, while they reached almost ITV Englandshire levels of commentary bias – which is allowed if you are watching the purely-Scottish feed – I suppose, we can let the weans off with it, particularly whichever one of Steven Thompson and James McFadden encouraged Kenny McLean to “Shoot!!!” for that outrageous fourth goal.

But, how typically Scottish, to score three “Worldies” - world class goals, plus one from a goal-mouth stramash, whilst, at the other end, putting us through the mill with some last-gasp defending. I still don't think the Danish penalty, foul though it was, was inside the box, but, the Polish referee was consistent throughout and I have no complaints about him.

I feel sure, this Danish team can navigate the play-offs and join us in the Americas, they were a good side, but, Hampden on such evenings has an aura which has undone better sides than they. I find it difficult, however, to feel sympathy for the Danish manager, castigating the referee after defeat – dignity Sir, dignity.

I thought Scott McTominay's opener was a bit special – perhaps the best bicycle-kick goal since Pele scored in Escape To Victory. The other three weren't bad either, and what about Craig Gordon, surely now, at long last, set to do a Denis Law and end his career at a World Cup.

Now the real work begins, for the players and the SFA backroom staff, but, also for the Tartan Army. Iwonder what outlandish travel plans will be dreamed-up? Is that old submarine from 1978 still around? I would love to be going, but, I will be in my 80^th year – if I last that long – when the World Cup begins, and such campaigns are jobs for the youngsters. In any case, while it would be nice to check-in with the Canadian and American branches of the Clan, I don't really fancy visiting Trump's America. That said, should Euromillions oblige me, I might do the trip in style.

Going by past World Cups, it will be a roller-coaster ride between now and the Summer, it will be fun, but, you have to feel for the Dibs and the Dobs, as Alex Cameron dubbed them, for the next seven months they will be no more than support acts, rather than bill-toppers. But, please, Alex, stay out of the recording studio, ditto Sir Rod Stewart.

It was a great night, and Scotland is standing that wee bit taller this morning. By the way, I just knew we would win. On the basis of bad news coming in threes, after our Rugby team losing back-to-back games against New Zealand and Argentina, and with that Greek Tragedy from Saturday night thrown-in, we had had our three disasters, we were therefore sure to dump the Danes.

The SFA Comms team have put up on their Facebook page, a post-game interview with Sir Stephen. It's very illuminating, he's typically humble and laid-back, but, he did highlight one thing for which he deserves praise which he has yet to receive – his belief in his squad.

The bar room “experts” - some journalists even, have questioned some of the players who Clarkie keeps on picking in Scotland squads. But, he keeps picking them and they keep delivering. For years, we saw players in and out of Scotland squads, chopping and changing, Clarke has done away with this and picked his men – who have repaid him with this qualification. There is something to be said for consistency of selection.

A final thought on last night. I have long felt the Tartan Army saw Flower of Scotland as a challenge – to try to beat the band to the finish. Last night, when we adopted the Rugby version: pipes for verse one, then A'Capella, the TA really stood up. I have long thought the anthem before the 1990 Grand Slam Rugby Game – The Grudge - was the definitive rendition, last night, the Football TA kicked that one into touch. Spine-tingling.

 

Can We Do It? It's Scotland, Who Knows

THE COVEN – as one of my bra-less, mini-skirt-wearing Sixties Chicks turned Grandmother friends refers to my daughters – have lang syne stopped worrying about my heart condition when it comes to watching Scotland play international fitba.

I have survived:

• Scotland 0 - Uruguay 7

• England 7 – Scotland 2

• England 9 – Scotland 3

• Scotland v Czechoslovakia 1973

• Scotland v Brazil 1974

• The five-goal humping in the Centenary game

• Stuart Kennedy's Wembley nightmare

• Argentina 1978

• David Narey's toe-poke wakening 11 sleeping Brazilian bears

• The Uruguay game in 1986

Those are a mere ten games to be going on with, in seven decades of being let-down by Scotland teams. I have seen Scotland teams: packed to the gun'ales by supposed “World Class Talents” stumble across the line against “Diddy Teams” in both meaningless friendlies and crucial World Cup and European Championship games.

We've been drawn in more “Groups of Death” than the entire funeral industry; we have found more ways to lose games we should have won and throw games away from a winning position than Jay Rayner has had hot dinners and when it comes to saying: “it wisnae me” and rewriting history to make themselves look good – the SFA blazers could give that upstanding member of the Caledonian Diaspora, Donald J Trump lessons.

So, I am not getting myself worked-up into a state around Tuesday night at Hampden. The Tartan Army foot soldiers will turn up, all 50,000-plus of them; they will play their usual pre-match game of “let's beat the band through Flower of Scotland”; they will will the team on with every fibre of their being and maybe, just maybe, this time it will work and 27 years and six campaigns of hurt will vanish and they will get to enjoy another of those rare Hampden nights when we really have something to celebrate.

But, when it comes to Scotland getting to a World Cup Finals Tournament the road has never been easy. Our qualification record does not make for comfortable reading:

• 1950 – qualified second in the Home Internationals, spat the dummy and refused to go

• 1954 – qualified second in the Home Internationals, let Rangers hold back four regulars for a club tour, then dropped more than half the team after being gubbed by England in our final qualifier

• 1958 – qualified first in a three-nation group, but mainly thanks to Switzerland drawing with Spain

• 1974 – qualified first in a three-nation group

• 1978 – qualified first in a three-nation group

• 1982 – qualified first in a five-nation group

• 1986 – finished second in our group but qualified via the intercontinental play-off, by beating Australia

• 1990 – qualified second in a five-nationa group

• 1998 – qualified second in a six-nation group

That's our record in the nine previouis World Cups for which we have qaulified – in only one-third of those tournaments, have we won our qualifying group. The good news is, we tend to do best when in a three-nation qualifying group, as we are this time, but, the Scottish way is usually to take the harder route to the big show.

Mind you, we do have a tendancy to peak a year early, we have been struggling somewhat this season, so, maybe that isn't a factor this time round.

I am a Stevie Clarke fan and not merely because we Ayrshiremen stick together (Aye Right!); I so want him to lead us to the Promised Land, but, I know, and I am pretty sure Stevie knows as well – Tuesday night will be a fraught one.

I am holding out for a Hero, I wonder who that man will be and if, this time, after so-many recent heartaches, we can get over the line.

But, as ever with Scotland – it's the hope that kills.

 

Who'd Be A Scottish Goalkeeper

IN MY YOUTH, I'd have given anything for just one game in-goals for Scotland. However, for several reasons, in particular as distinct lack of talent, it wasn't to be. So, on the basis of:

• Those who can do

• Those who no longer can – coach

• Those who never could – go into the press box and pontificate

So, here I am.

However, I care deeply about Scottish Fitba and in particular about our goalkeepers, a group of people who have been getting a bad press for years. What really upset me was, on Sunday morning, I read on the BBC Sport Scotland website, that Celtic were seeking to recruit Manchester City's German goalkeeper Stefan Ortega. He will be out of contract in Manchester at the end of this season, so City might be keen to cash-in by selling him in January.

Now, this story might be sheer pish – in the same paragraph they have Andy Robertson perhaps returning to Celtic Park as well. Let's look at the Ortega story for instance.

Celtic currently have:

1. Kasper Schmeichel, first-choice, 39 years old; 118 Danish caps; some 800 first-team games across his career.

2. Viljami Sinisalo, back-up, 24-year-old Finnish international, 4 caps.

3. Ross Doohan, third-choice, 27-year-old Scottish international, 1 cap.

So, given they have these three in-situ, ok, I accept, Schmeichel may have reached the stage in his career where it is time to let him go, but, to have two already-capped goalkeepers in thir mid to late twenties on the staff, what is the benefit of recruiting an uncapped 33-year-old – othr than, because we can possibly buy him?

They had another capped goalkeeper in Scott Bain, who played most of his 75 first-team games for Celtic during the early part of his time there. Then he was side-lined, before being allowed, age 33, to join Falkirk, where his form has seen him recalled to the Scotland squad.

Celtic used to give young goalkeepers their chance. The legend that is John Thomson was in the first-team while still effectively a boy. Willie Miller, another Celtic and Scotland back-stop, was – albeit in war-time – given his first-team chance at 17. Dick Beattie was another teen-aged debutant who made the position his own, winning Under-23 caps and being in-goals for the legendary 7-1 League Cup Final. He was succeeded by another teenager, Frank Haffey.

Ignore Wembley 1961 and “nearly ten past Haffey” - big Frank was still a very-good goalkeeper, capable of stunning saves. Jimmy Armfield, England's right-back that day and later one of the most-respected football writers in the country said of that day: “it is unfair to blame Frank, his defenders that day made far-more mistakes than he did.” But that day meant, aged only 22, Frank Haffey was history.

Packie Bonner was another who was thrown-in as a boy, just 18 when he made the first of his record 641 appearances for the first team. OK, Bonner was there for ever, Ronnie Simpson was referred to as “Faither” by the rest of the Lisbon Lions, while more recently, Joe Hart and Schmeichel have helped raise the average age of the first-team squad.

Now, the Ortega to Celtic story may well be nothing more than the product of a football writer's vivid imagination, but, given how stupid the world of football recruitment now is, he may well be recruited in January.

However, the Celtic B squad, a squad currently languishing in ninth place in the 18-club Scottish Lowland League has, this season, listed seven goalkeepers, all under-20, some out on-loan to one of the Diddy Teams. That is taking bulk buying to extremes, it also, to my mind, poses questions of Celtic's recruitment policies.

I am not having a go at Celtic here, I have long thought the way our clubs recruit, educate and develop footballers has been lacking in the extreme. The fall-out rate of wannabe footballers from Scotland is a national embarrassment, and one which sadly, shows no sign of improvement in either the short or longer term.

But, should the Ortega story develop, it would be typical of the cack-handed way we run our game up here.

I have already had my say on the desperate state Stevie Clarke finds himself in because we have so-few front-line Scottish goalkeepers these days. This latest Celtic rumour merely underlines how badly Scottish Football's High Heid Yins have mismanaged our player development and progress over the years – particularly when it comes to goalkeepers.

 

Tell Me Why - We Don't Like Thursdays

SIR BOB GELDOF famously didn't like Mondays. It could well be, given recent results, that Scottish Fitba Fans don't like Thursdays – since they have taken to watching games in the Europa and Conference Leagues, on Thursday nights, from behind the sofa or through fingers held over eyes.

When we are welcoming Aberdeen getting a draw in Cyprus as the highlight of the week, while Celtic are given a Football lesson from a middling Danish team – we're in a bad way. The current Rangers team losing to AS Roma, no, I'm not going to cry at that; truth is, they got off lightly.

Scotland currently lies 18^th in UEFA's National Co-efficient listing. However, in commentary during the Rangers game, it was suggested on the basis of this season's performances, we are actually as low as 34^th, below some European nations which the Tartan Army have long considered “Diddy Nations”.

Can we get any worse? The traditional Scottish response to such a question is usually: “here, haud ma beer”. I am not confident of us getting out of our current pickle.

I can't see it getting better before it gets worse. I just don't see the desire, far-less the intelligence within the High Heid Yins along Hampden's sixth floor corridor to get us out of the current malaise.

A SFA “blazer” from the 1960s famously told the late Hugh McIlvanney, after the legendary Real Madrid v Eintracht Frankfort 1960 European Cup Final, as the pair walked away from Hampden: “of course, the Scottish Football public will never pay to watch that kind of football on a weekly basis”.

That official is long dead, but, the mind-set which produced that statement is still alive, well and flourishing within our Football's upper echelons.

However, in his defence – although I am certain he never saw this day coming, watching the current vogue for European-style building from the back, multi-passes, possession football has turned me off. Watching the likes of Manchester City taking 25 or 30 passes to get out of their own half is boring in the extreme.

Rangers, at the moment, play three of every five passes they make either sideways or backwards – how I long for a Jim Baxter 50-yard cross-field ball, which reminds me of one of my favourite stories of the Slim One.

In his second season at Ibrox, Baxter had, through their appearances for Scotland, become very-friendly with Celtic's Paddy Crerand. The pair were regularly seen about Glasgow and often photographed together at social events. Unfortunately, Baxter's form had dipped slightly and he was even left out of a Scotland squad – against Wales from memory.

There was also a rumour that Baxter was romantically entangled with Crerand's sister and on the day of the Wales v Scotland game, Baxter was struggling to impose himself on the Rangers' game; (internationals did not mean all club games cancelled back then).

By the second half the out of sorts Baxter was being instructed to: “away and fuck Bridie” - the atmosphere was toxic, until, a throw-in was directed towards Baxter, standing, facing the old “Hayshed” across from the main stand; he let the ball bounce then hooked it with his wand of a left foot, over his right shoulder and some 50-yards across the park to the young Willie Henderson, whose cross was calmly fired home by Ralphie Brand.

No more booing of Baxter, poor form over – all was well in the Rangers' world. Could I see a similar single cameo today – with this Rangers' squad, don't be silly. And, by the way, I still reckon, aged 88 as he now is, Ralph Brand would be more of a danger to the opposition in their own box than any of the current Ibrox strikers.

SIR GARETH SOUTHGATE KB, OBE, was always heading for The Establishment, since, from a missed penalty in the 1996 Euros to near-misses during his tenure in the English version of Mission Impossible (win something for English Football) has been a lesson in how to be almost good at something, the pre-requisite for advancement in England.

He was never the footballing public's choice to be England Manager, they didn't want him to get it, they were never behind him when he had the job and there was a lack of wailing and gnashing of teeth when he departed – but, aside from Sir Alf Ramsey – who did win them the big prize, and was ultimately sacked – Southgate probably made as good a fist of matching results to English Expectations as anyone.

Southgate has now written a book on his time as England boss: Dear England – Lessons In Leadership. It is his third foray into print. I haven't bought the first two, I don't think I will buy the third, although, that said – it was ripped to shreds in The Guardian – which is generally the sign of a book worth reading. I may wait until it turns up in my favoured charity shop for book purchases, because at £25 it's a wee bit pricey to buy new on the pittance HM Government thinks we Pensioners of the iconic Baby Boomers generation can survive on.

One thing I will say for Sir Gareth, he strikes me as not being the sort of former England Manager who seeks to remain relevant by giving his opinions ad nauseum on Television – yes you Sir Clive Woodward; so, when he does appear, he may well be worth listening to.