The Right Time To Go

I CAME into sports journalism in the 1960s - the mighty Real Madrid team of De Stefano, Puskas, Gento, Santamaria etc had crested the hill at Hampden and slid down the other side. The great Scottish squads of Crerand, McNeill and Baxter at half-back with John White beside them, supplying the ammunition for Denis Law, Ian St John and Davie Wilson were flirting with our affections and mental state. Jock Stein was reviving Celtic and the Lisbon Lions were evolving.

Since then, it's been mostly downhill - Ramsey's "wingless wonders" winning what was arguably the worst World Cup ever in 1966. Certainly Brazil 1970, Pele, Jairzinho, Gerson, Carlos Alberta briefly lit the torch of hope, only for it to be extinguished by the cynicism of Revie's Leeds United, the heart-break of Argentina 1978 and the headlong rush towards the "professional" foul, simulation, the worship of money rather than football and the other scars on the visage of the beautiful game.

Season 2010-11 has been a dire one, particularly here in Scotland, but, right at the death, I saw hope for the future - wrapped-up in a five foot seven inch South American named Messi, who, backed up by some celebrated Catalans, threatens to return us to those long-vanished days of 60s sunshine.

But, before we join the masses, heading off to worship at the new temple of football, Camp Nuo, reflect on this. The game Barca play is nothing more than the Queen's Park game of the 1870s, keep the ball, pass and run, support, pass, probe, look for the opening - keep the ball on the ground and let it do the work.

OK, they play it at a pace the gentleman amateurs at the first Hampden Park could never sustain, but on better pitches, with lighter balls and equipment; the Barca boys are better-nourished and trained, probably bigger and surely better athletes - but, they are playing a Queen's Park style for the third millennium.

They have by and large been raised and trained together, just as the Kelly Kids of the late 1950s, with a few shrewd buys for extra flavouring, became the Lisbon Lions and in their own way revolutionised European football.

Matt Busby's way, Jock Stein's way, Rinus Michel's way, Alex Ferguson's way - these are all, basically the same way - recruit good young players, teach them good habits, encourage them, bring in talented outsiders only if you have to and give them their head.

That's the way to do it. Do not go down the road of buying success - sure, like any farmer, you'll have bumper harvests - McNeill, Clark, Johnstone, Lennox; Dalglish, Hay, McGrain, Macari; the Busby Babes; Beckham, Giggs, Scholes, the Nevilles; the 1970s Ajax squad; the current Barca one - but there will be other times when you have crop failure and must buy. But, if you are true to football's core beliefs, and if you put the work in on the training field - when you get a squad such as Pepe Guardilo now oversees - home-grown talent gives the best results.

Will the guys running Scottish football please note this and act accordingly.

When football reconvenes for the start of season 2100-12, I will be going into what I intend being my final season at the coal face. I will never give up on football, but I will cherry-pick my games after this next season - I hope my final one in the press box will be a happy and fulfilling one.

UNTIL then, what fun we will have over the summer, as politics and pay-offs threaten to dominate the close season agenda. FIFA is in a mess, but so too is football as a whole.

I'd love to see IFAB, the rule-making body which has such a large, but inept and foundering British presence, pluck-up the courage to undertake a wholesale, root and branch overhaul of the game's laws - bring-in a zero tolerance approach to the cheating, simulation and lack of respect for the game.

I'd love to think Stewart Regan's (from what little has been allowed into the public domain) long-overdue overhaul of the SFA gets through next month's annual meeting - but ah hae ma doots - turkeys tend not to vote for Christmas.

I'd like to think Ally McCoist will tell Craig Whyte - thanks for the loan of your cheque book, but I think I'll give my good young players a chance first, then see where I need to strengthen.

I'd love to see Neil Lennon using disdain and scorn rather than naked aggresion as his public personna against those who wish him ill - don't snarl, smile Neil - it annoys them far more.

I want to see a genuine third force emerge to engage the Old Firm and if that third force is from Kilmarnock, all the better.

Finally, as I cut back my activities during the close season, I'd like to see Craig Levein's Scotland getting the points they need to qualify for Euro' 2012 - we've been too-long absent from football's top table.

Last of the Winter Wine

GREAT artistes quite often keep their best stuff for the encore; they know, even if they haven't absolutely hit the heights of which they are capable, the audience will always get to their feet and roat their approval, if they hold back their big number for the encore which is their due.

Of course, football doesn't do encores - it used to be that a season finished with the Scottish and English Cup Finals: whether that game was a classic such as the 1953 'Matthew's Final' of a 0-0 bore draw, won by a sclaffed shot which was deflected onto both posts and into the net off a defender's back side - that was it.

These days football never really ends - the professionals, those who haven't been released that is, may largely be off living it up in "Shagalouf", or doing national service in the Carling Nations Cup, or getting ready for the June round of Euro 2012 qualifiers; in Scotland the juniors still have games to go. Musselburgh may be undertaking football's version of Mission Impossible - attempting to deny Auchinleck Talbot another Emirates Scottish Junior Cup triumph at Rugby Park on Sunday - but there is still the Evening Times Cup-Winners Cup to be got out of the way thereafter.

Indeed, in 2011, as in several past years, the less-successful junior clubs might well be undertaking 2011-12 pre-season friendlies even before Talbot have finished their 2010-11 campaign. Likewise the clubs from the Irish and Welsh Leagues which have qualified for the European competitions next season will already be in preparation for these.

The European Cup Final, at Wembley on Saturday, really ought to signal the end of this season - the two biggest clubs, playing in London, in front of a global audience, what a way to end - but it will not be the end the game will stagger on for a few weeks more.

This season 2010-11 has not been a great vintage, in Scotland, certainly, the vintage has been bitter, more vinegar than wine, but we still have the dregs to go through before we can be released.

It truly has been a narky, niggling, annoying season - one which almost made you fall out of love with the beautiful game. Let's hope this weekend passes without further cause for irritation - A moment of Messi magic, a Giggs/Rooney combination ending in a goal and two-fingered salutes to the press box, that would do nicely.

On Sunday, in Dublin, a 60-yard crossfield ball from Charlie Adam, volleyed home by Kenny Miller to win us the Carling Cup, that would again do nicely - then we could all pack-up and go off for the summer. It cannot come quickly enough.

I HAVE this close acquaintance, retired, enjoying the slower pace but he likes to keep the brain active - so he has become somewhat addicted to online forums. I fear I am in danger of sharing his addiction - since I, somehow, no matter how hard I try to avoid the temptation, keep turning back to the Rumour Mill on the Scotsman's website.

The Herald, long ago, decided not to allow website readers to comment on Old Firm stories - The Scotsman tried this as well, but found their Hearts and Hibs sites, on which the rival comments can touch elevated heights of mutual loathing and vitriol, increasingly taken-over by the followers of what one Hearts fan dubbed: The Bigot Brothers. So, the guys at the foot of Holyrood Road came up with this offering - the Rumour Mill.

Some of the stuff on it is hugely-entertaining, while other stuff is wonderfully cringe-making. Occasionally the debate is exciting and stimulating, but there are one or two whose agendas have remained unchanged since 1690 or 1916 and will continue unchanged for ever more, if they have their way.

What worries me, from reading the posts is - some of the worst examples of bigotry and sectarianism comes from ex-pat Scots, as, to be fair, do some of the best posts; but, if as we are told, the brightest and best Scots leave our native shores - what does that say about those who remain?

Be warned, however, it is addictive, if hardly liable to inform. Earlier this week one of the more-intelligent of the Rangers regulars commented on one post: "good idea, but, enough of this football psih, let's get back to the bigotry and name-calling" - still, it gives the poor dears somewhere to go and keeps them off the street.

The Famine Is Over

THE famine is over - and let's face it, for either half of the Old Firm, over one complete season without meaningful silverware represents a famine. To those of us whose club tends to lift a big one once every 30-years or so, 18-months between laps of honour is a missed meal. So, well done Celtic on your Scottish Cup triumph.

For fans of most clubs, simply winning would have been enough; but "the Celtic Way" demands the team wins with style and a certain swagger - this they managed while goals one and three were as good Cup Final goals as you could wish to see.

The smile on Neil Lennon's face said it. He's had a torrid time since being thrust into the top job at Celtic Park and he deserved to end a traumatic season with his hands on a cup. By the way Neil - great smile, if we saw that a bit more and your snarling face a bit less, we'd all be happy and your public image would be much better.

EXACTLY how Ally McCoist copes with the top job at Rangers is still to be discovered. But, he's had a lengthy apprenticeship under Walter Smith and, having been eased-in with responsibility for cup campaigns, albeit with Walter having an overviewing role, he has had to make the big calls before. Maybe, had Lennie had a similar understudying role, perhaps he could have avoided some of the bother he's become involved in this past season.

So, we look forward to this additional facet of next season's battle for the big prizes: the experienced, trophy-winning Neil Lennon against the inexperienced Ally McCoist. Some Celtic fans believe the pendulum has swung their way, perhaps it has, but, in the past, when a Number Two has become Number One at Rangers - that club has done well. Smith seamlessly replaced Souness; Jock Wallace took over from Willie Waddell, while of course Bill Struth replacved William Wilton in 1920. If I can be naughty here: maybe just as well "Walter" had resigned before he took to the water with his assistant - there is "history" there.

OUR football focus now turns to the Carling Nations Cup, in Dublin this week. Scotland face Wales in midweek and are clearly due to stick it to the Taffia in no uncertain terms, let's hope Levein's squad can produce the win we all crave, then carry-on the good work against the Republic in the final game.

Every international now counts towards our FIFA co-efficient, while, since these are competitive internationals, they also affect our UEFA co-efficient. The trick for big Craig is to integrate his fringe men, without seeing us slide any further down the co-efficient league table.

There has been some talk this week about Craig's efforts to discover Scots-qualified players beyond the homeland. Fair enough, if, as we are told, Scotland's greatest export has been our brightest and best, it stands to reason there must be some potentially outstanding talent out there in the Caledonian Diaspora.

But, I'd rather we tended our own native stock better. There is no development structure in the Scottish game. Youngsters who are no closer to the first team at their clubs than bench duty, under SPL rules, get Under-21 caps, then vanish for years before coming back into the national set-up, or, more-likely, sinking without trace. We have to keep our brightest and best going forward.

Scotland's "best" age group team was the Under-16 team which would have won the 1989 World Youth Cup - had FIFA had the cojones to chuck out the Saudi Arabian cheats who beat them in the final. No I accept that excellence at aged 16 is no gurantee of excellence as an adult. However, from that team we got full internationalists: Paul Dickov (10 caps), Andy McLaren (1) and Bryan O'Neil (7), not much of a return on the considerable effort which went into that team doing so well - remember, they beat Portugal's "Golden Generation" in their semi-final at Tynecastle.

The days have long gone when we produced potential internationalists as a matter of course - today it takes work and Scotland doesn't work hard enough at producing good young players.

SO, IF the Sunday Herald and Twitter are to be believed - Ryan Giggs is the footballer with the financial muscle to engage lawyers with experience of getting super-injunctions for their client.

Well, ah kent his faither, when I worked in Yorkshire, where his old man was living at the time - he had an eye for totty, which has apparently passed-down to his son. Surprise, surprise.

Nurse - The Screens

IT might not be pretty, and the screens may well be needed, to shield events from the more-sensitive members of the public - but I fancy tomorrow's Celtic v Motherwell Scottish Cup Final will be nothing less than riveting.

On current form - many would question why the Lanarkshire side should even bother turning up; better perhaps to send an e-mail to Hampden: "Off on sunshine holiday, we got a great leaving gift from John Boyle; please send runners-up medals to Fir Park - Stuart and the Squad".

That, at least would get the Celtic squad off the hook, guaranteeing them silverware. For believe me, there are doubts about one aspect of Neil Lennon's team - can they cut it in a game which actually matters? These doubts have been growing since Celtic's weak capitulation to Ross County in the semi-final 13 months ago. They surfaced again when Rangers won the League Cup final: the clamour intensified after that season-defining defeat at Inverness and if Motherwell should triumph tomorrow - cue torn Celtic crests in the red-top tabloids.

Celtic, at least, have been "in the zone" since Inverness. Nobody could criticise the manner in which they responded to that set-back. They battled Rangers every inch of the way to the finish line, but in the end lost the title by a nose. The question now is, have they anything left for one last hurrah.

We recall how Hearts were undone in, if anything, even crueller circumstances in 1986, falling just short in the league race, then, a week later, losing to Aberdeen in the cup final. Such carelessness doesn't normally afflict either half of the Old Firm - but there is no law to say it cannot happen.

Stuart McCall has rotated his squad, resting his key men and Motherwell paid the price in a spell of poor results post-split. But, just maybe, McCall has played a canny game and can send out a team determined to take this single shot at glory.

Prior to his great side's European Cup Final defeat to Feyenoord, 40-years ago now, Jock Stein confessed he wasn't too-bothered about the Dutch side his men was facing - his big concern was, were his Celtic players in the right frame of mind. Hindsight tells us they weren't - good side though Feyenoord were, they weren't a patch on that Celtic one, or the Leeds United one they had swept aside in the semi-final. But, apparently, some wearers of the hoops that night assumed they only had to turn up to win - if any of their less-illustrious successors of the class of 2011 take the field with that attitude tomorrow, the cup will be heading for Lanarkshire.

Neil Lennon has had to endure an awful lot of shit this season. He has borne his travails, the threats, the physical violence against him, the skirmishes with authority with genuine stoicism, if not always good grace - he deserves to end this season as a winner, can his men give him that reward?

WHAT a lot of hot air that midweek BBC documentary Bigotry, Bombs and Football turned out to be. We learned nothing we didn't already know. The Loyal Sons (and cousins) of William sing sectarian songs - the green-clad Bhoys worship the Boys of the Old Brigade. Jings, crivvens, help ma Boab, ah didnae ken that like.

But what was interesting was the input from the two clubs mainly concerned. Celtic didn't put up a spokesperson, they didn't apparently want to know, while Rangers allowed their Head of Security to appear and explain his club's efforts to tackle the rogue element in their support. You might feel, as I do, that Rangers could and should do more to rid themselves of what David Murray dubbed "the FTP faction" - but they appear to be doing something.

I feel Celtic and the wider "Celtic Family" are still in denial that they have a problem. The BBC may be a flawed organisation, but, it still carries weight around the world and to ignore the opportunity to put their side of the issue was I feel an own goal by Celtic.

You can argue all you like about which club has the bigger problem, I think most right-minded people would point at Rangers, but by appearing on-screen Rangers I feel showed they are more-willing than Celtic to confront "Scotland's Shame". Also, 548 red cards to supporters from Rangers against a mere 6 from Celtic I feel shows a less-tolerant attitude to anti-social behaviour from the blue side of Glasgow than from the green.

SPEAKING of the Rangers' support - fair play to them in their efforts to get into Rugby Park in numbers last Sunday. A lot of my Killie-supporting friends are still up in arms at the way a large section of the "home" support rose as one to acclaim those early Rangers goals. Indeed, several Killie fans were out of the ground before half-time, to escape the gloating and intimidation of the Rangers fans amongst them in the stands which were supposed to be for "home" fans alone.

The Kilmarnock club has been blasted from all points in Ayrshire for what was clearly a total "Horlicks", to use Princess Anne's wonderful word for what we lower orders would simply call "a fuck-up". There was a lack of thought, a headlong rush to embrace the quick buck and the upshot is - a fan base who have for years had a jaundiced view of the men at the top have yet more reasons not to bother backing a board who seem to shaft them at every opportunity.

SO the (English) Football Association is to abstain from voting in the upcoming FIFA presidential election, in protest at the stitch-up that was the voting on the 2018 and 2022 World Cup Finals venues.

In so doing they managed to hand Sepp Blatter the moral high ground - regretting the fact that England is doing this, pointing-out the FA's great role in football history, etc etc.

We all know football governance is in a mess - from FIFA down to the SFA. We all know we're paying too-much for too-little; we all know apart from Messi, Ronaldo, Kaka, Xavi and Iniesta today's footballers aren't a patch on my Di Stefano, Finney, Bobby Charlton, Best, Cruyff, Law, Baxter, Maradona and Zidane long ago. We are aware that Brazil 1970, Scotland 1977, England 1966, Holland 1974 and most-certainly Hungary 1953 could give their present-day successors three goals of a start and a beating.

We pay our Sky subscritions, we buy our over-priced replica strips, we read guff in our papers, post pish on the web and why - because this game is infectious and, for all its imperfections - 90 minutes of good football, a screamer fired-in from 30 yards, a penalty controversy, a breath-taking save - lifts you out of that Monday to Friday wage slave rut.

It's such a pity we've got to put up with the likes of Blatter, Jack Warner and George Peat to hve these wee uplifting moments.

The best game I ever played in. Our village team won the Junior Cup, we partied all night, then met in the pub across from the ground to relive the day - this was on the Monday. At around 2pm, somebody suggested we get a ball out, go across to the park and have a kick-about.

Forty guys, average age 42 or thereabouts, all pissed, playing a 20-a-side game on the park; the Scottish Cup, into which we had poured a mixtutre of gin and tonics, whisky and lemonades, bacardi and cokes, vodka and whatever, sitting on the home dug-out roof. Your side had a drink out of it after every goal.

God, we had fun, and aching heads and limbs for days afterwards - that's what fitba does to you.

You abstain if you like England, where we are in the game, that means FA.

Let's Stop Talking Football - And Do It

THE events of the past week might have given the impression that Bill Shankly was, after all, correct in saying football was more important than a matter of life and death - but I don't believe the Glenbuck Guru truly thought that.

Leaving aside the thought processes - was he capable of rational thought? - of the half-wit now awaiting trial for his alleged attempted assault on Neil Lennon at Tynecastle last week, the brouhaha was more about the continuation of tribalism in 21st century Scotland than about football. That tribalism has always been there, it survived the break-up of the clans, and has certainly been evident in some of the fall-out from the recent Scottish election; will Scotland: "the last heathen nation in Europe" ever grow-up and join the third millemmium?

Maybes aye - maybes naw, as another Scottish footballing philosopher based on Merseyside might say.

Where do we go from here? Forward tho ah canna see - ah guess and fear.

I feel, by the way, there was something symbolic in the fact Ernie Walker passed away over the weekend. Rather like the matriach in Coleen McCullogh's blockbuster 'The Thorn Birds' or the matriach of an Ayrshire family of my acquaintance, both of whom showed their deep objections to what they considered "wrong" outcomes to affairs of the heart by dying at the most-embarrassing moments, you could be excused for thinking Ernie had said: "Enough" and passed-on in protest at what has become of his beloved game.

Ernie was one Scots football man who got to sit at the game's top table - he was a heavy hitter across Europe, but, when he came up with perfectly sensible and much-needed suggestions for improving the game up here, the SFA said: "thanks but no thanks". The report of the Walker "Think Tank" continues to gather dust in some Hampden cupboard, where it has no doubt since been joined by Henry McLeish's more-recent review body findings.

We are quite happy to grub around in the gutter of the game. As events of the past few days have shown - that's where we are most at home.

Scottish football - nae money, nae class, nae future. Or is that simply a result of the default position of the Scottish nation. The wind's aye in oor faces; we're awe doomed, doomed ah tell ye.

A little over 300 years ago, having had their fingers badly burned in the Darien Scheme, a few Scots lords: "Sic a parcel o' rogues in a nation", quite shamefully sold our parliamentary independence for English gold and Scotland became poor, down-trodden, "North Britain" - the poor relation, only good for grouse moors, deer stalking, salmon fishing; a handy place for sinking coal mines, building iron works; a good source of cheap labour, cheap resources and fiery foot soldiers for the armies necessary for the subjugation of large tracts of the second and third world.

Scots soldiers went overseas and played more than a one-tenth part in turning the atlas red. The Highland Clearances forced the brightest and best to go off and develop Canada, the USA, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand.

The second wave of Scottish emigration built the railways which opened-up South America. At around the same time, as organised sport flourished in the final quarter of the 19th century, the "Scotch professors" went south to teach the English how to really play this new game of soccer which they had invented in their top public schools such as Eton and Harrow.

In this wave of overseas travel and expansion, some Scots went off to South America, laying the foundation stones of Argentinian and Brazilian football as an after-thought - and as a reward we got a skelping in Switzerland in 1954.

Back home, those who stayed - we gradually cringed back into oor ain wee middens; we somehow failed to show the gallus gumption of our grand-fathers and fathers. We stopped producing the players the world wanted to marvel at, our game stagnated and, like primitive tribes, seduced by beads and trinkets, we imported cheap, foreign tat, became fat and lazy and lost our way.

We've sunk to such a low level its all about biff, bash, blood and snotters. On and off the field, we are wallowing in a cess-pit of our own making and as a result, we've just endured a season of such awfulness, no wonder we want it to be over.

But, just as we get an election result, which wasn't supposed to happen. Just as Scotland sends out to the world a message: "We're not 100 per cent certain, but we think we'd like to be a nation again", hopefully our football will also say: "Right, we've learned our lesson; we've hit rock bottom and, while it will be a long, difficult haul, maybe we're ready to start the climb back to, if not, certainly respectability".

Let's hope so. Can we not put the last week behind us and rise now, to be a (football) nation again?

What Next?

I AM in that body of people who thinks Scottish football cannot go on like this - change is now not only necessary, it is inevitable, or the game will die. I wonder, and I don't think I am alone in this, how many parents decided, on seeing those sickening pictures from Tynecastle, they don't want their kids to have anything to do with Scottish football?

Neil Lennon is a very-divisive individual, Celtic fans love him, the membership of the anti-Neil Lennon club, while largely "Rangers-minded", is not entirely true blue in hue; I can think of nobody in the history of Scottish football, not even Graeme Souness, who so-divided opinion.

But no Lennon-disliker (those who genuinely hate the man are, I think, beyond reach) would have wished last night's events on him - to be assaulted whilst going about one's lawful business, at of all things a football match - is beyond the pale.

The SPL and the SFA MUST take action on this one. Going by past events, that action will probably take the form of some sort of punishment on Hearts - the convention being (quite rightly) that the home club is responsible for the security of players and officials before, during and after games. Yet, while there is a strong perception that someone, security personnel, police, boobed in allowing Lennon's alleged assailant to get into the technical area to apparently assault him (I know, I know, legal niceties and all that), you have to ask what more Hearts could have done to prevent one person from acting as the guy who was arrested apparently did.

Do we really want to go back to the bad old days of security fencing? Must we, as they still do in some foreign lands, start digging moats? We all remember what happened with fences at Hillborough, while spectators have fallen into moats in Spain and Italy.

Neil Lennon's behaviour trackside might not be that of a minister of religion standing in front of the altar or communion table, but, this is a free country and he has the right to conduct him as he sees fit, within the law, without the risk of assault.

Lennon took over as Celtic manager at a low point in that club's long history. It hasn't been all plain-sailing for him, but Celtic today are in a much-stronger position than they were when he was appointed care-taker boss. He must be congratulated on how far he has brought his club. Yes, like any young manager, he has made mistakes; when he is the age Walter Smith is now, he might look back at his first season and a bit as Celtic manager and cringe: but he has made, on the whole, a good start and has shown that here is a potentially-great manager in the making.

This latest incident, coming on top of all the other incidents in which he has, to a greater or lesser degree been involved, just might be the final straw. One wonders how his partner feels, seeing the man she loves, the father of her child, being so-demonised, having to have 24-hour security, having his every action analysed. Might she be saying to him: "Neil, enough is enough - let's get out of this city and this bubble we are in". Nobody could blame her if she did.

I hope it doesn't come to this; this year's SPL title race has been rivetting, it has gone right to the wire and, who knows, there might still be one or two twists and turns to come on Helicopter Sunday. Looking ahead, the battle for the 2011-12 title, between Lennon, a season older and wiser and Ally McCoist, finally handed the keys to the kingdom and a nice new cheque book, promises to be every bit as exciting and engrossing as this season's has been.

But, it may not, after last night, happen. In which case, the lunatics have indeed taken over the asylum.

SO, what can be done. As regards the Tynecastle One and anyone wishing to follow his example - not a lot I don't think. The guy who caused the bother will certainly be banned from life from Tynecastle, and, I trust, every other ground in Scotland. I trust he will not be the last. Those Celtic fans who were allegedly fighting among themselves and with security staff and police and those (presumably) Hearts fans fighting in the main stand, should also be banned sine die - as should any fan of any club considering aping their behaviour.

Of course, following Rangers' recent travails with UEFA over their travelling support's song book and the contretemps about FARE's part in bringing that behaviour to the attention of UEFA, sectarianism is very much back on the agenda. I have seen, this morning, Rangers-minded websites and contributors to general football websites, listing the alleged "sectarian" chants and songs which we all heard on Wednesday night. Time perhaps for the SFA/SPL/SFL to end years of inaction, grab the bull by the horns and tell both halves of the Old Firm - the following songs, chants, paraphenalia (flags, banners, etc) are banned - you have one season to totally eliminate them or we will deduct points. This might force the clubs to move their backsides and cut out the cancers in their midst.

The two clubs should be warned: "We are not interested in "they've got more bad boys than us"; we don't care if it's "a tradition"; it stops - now. If it doesn't we will deduct points, we will make you play behind closed doors, you will not be allowed to play in Europe, but, we will make you and your fans behave.

And any other club which has a segment of their following who indulge in anti-social behaviour should be treated similarly. The anti-social element which has attached itself to Scottish football is not entirely the Orange and the Green.

I ALWAYS felt that one of Maggie Thatcher's few u-turns just might have worked and would be handy now. Memory prevents me from nailing the date properly, but it was back in the pre-EPL days, when England had a really-bad problem with football hooligans. There was one celebrated, televised riot involving Luton Town fans and at the time the Luton chairman was also a Conservative MP.

He wanted to make all the Hatters' supporters become club members and Maggie backed him on this, only to be forced to back down by the combined ranks of the FA, the Football League and many of her own back benchers. I felt at the time, and still feel, the idea had merit.

Of course, one of the immediate drawbacks is, if we all had to join a club to go and watch games, it would end "neutral" fans, more interested in good football than partisanship. That can surely be got round, but, by having a data base of fans, clubs could surely make more money, while the threat of withdrawal of club membership and therefore not being able to go to games, would surely improve fans' behaviour. As members, the fans would have more say in how the club was run, which might curb the excesses of directors/owners.

I think this is worth looking at afresh.

Corruption

SO THE failed English bid to host the 2018 World Cup is back in the news, with Lord Treisman's appearance before a parliamentary committee this week - and his allegations of improper approaches from certain FIFA Executive Committee members, including, surprise, surprise the lovely Jack Warner.

Don't you find it ironic that a guy bearing the same surname as the actor who made 'Dixon of Dock Green' the personification of the decent, solid, English "bobby" is (again) put in the frame as the biggest chancer in world football - a body inhabited by chancers.

It is hardly news that Warner is (probably/allegedly) corrupt. Didn't dear old John McBeth get flung off FIFA, before he was even on it, for implying that Warner was one of a number of FIFA executives who forced him to count his fingers after shaking hands with them. Then there was the case of him asking for Trinidad and Tobago's fee for playing Scotland in a friendly to be paid into his personal bank account.

That was years ago. McBeth was fed to the wolves and the FA couldn't wait for him to be gone before they were picking-up the British FIFA vice-presidency which had been McBeth's.

Now they're shouting foul as loudly as they can. But don't shout too-loudly chaps, or some light might be shone on darker recesses of the FA, such as how the peers, queers and comic singers who run the EPL have managed to get so well-in in the FA's corridors of power.

SPEAKING of guys who are "well-in"; what about wee "Battler" Brown getting off with a slap on the wrist after his contretemps with John Boyle at Fir Park? Actually probably another sensible reaction from an SFA Disciplinary Committee, not previously known for common-sense dispersing of justice.

Or is it, as one of the SJFA High Heid Yins, a man who can navigate the Hampden corridors without a route map, insisted a few weeks ago, when we spoke, even before the case was heard: a case of Craigie boy being OK, since he was "well-up".

If you're not from the West of Scotland and don't know what "well-up" means; it's a secret and I cannot tell you.

I AM writing this prior to the Hearts v Celtic game, a match which could yet - if the Edinburgh side wins it - hand the title to Rangers with a match to spare. In spite of the pre-match posturing as regards Lennie's remarks, Vlad's intervention in the Hearts selection process and whether or not the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars, I still think Rangers will have to come to Rugby Park on Sunday and win to take the prize.

Turning Sunday's game into a victory cavalcade might not be a bad thing, given Killie have this week had to warn Rangers fans who have bought a ticket for the two pitch-length stands they risk being flung out, as these are Killie-only areas.

I don't think Killie have 9000 regular fans to fill these two areas, so it is obvious to me that a good number of Rangers fans have clearly bought "Killie" tickets. Mind you, some of my Celtic-supporting friends tell me it is impossible to tell a Rangers fan from a Killie fan under normal tests.

I first started going to senior football in the old days of no segregation. Certainly come Old Firm game time, the fans segregated themselves, indeed, in those pre-Stein days at Celtic Park - the "Rangers" end stretched to more than half-way along the old Jungle, Celtic being in a deep recession, there weren't too-many green-and-white wearing fans at the first few Old Firm games I attended.

But, apart from Old Firm games, the fans tended to mingle, with very little bother. One memory of these long-gone days which has always stuck in my mind was of a Kilmarnock v Celtic game back in about 1960 - it was so long ago Billy McNeill was the new boy playing right back for Celtic, with Bobby Evans at centre half.

We were in our usual spot in the old "hay shed", across from the main stand at Rugby Park and in front of us was a father and son pairing, Dad supporting Killie, Son favouring the Hoops. The banter between the two was priceless, well worth the admission, paticularly since Killie won.

Then there was a visit to Ibrox, standing where the Govan Stand is now, next to a group of Rangers supporters, one of whom spent the entire match hurling abuse at Killie captain Willie Toner. Eventually one of the adults with us asked him: "Excuse me pal, what exactly have you got against Willie?"

"Sorry pal, but Willie was one of my apprentices at Shettleston Works and he was a lazy young so-and-so; so I suppose I object to him being oot there enjoying himself playing fitba"; was the reply. You cannot argue with logic like that.

Would the fabric of society be irrepairably damaged if we again allowed that sort of banter at football? I think not.

A Single To The Salt Mines Please

HEARTSm Hearts, Glorious Hearts - well hardly on Saturday, when they were well and truly gone-over by Rangers, amidst suggestions that First Secretary Vlad had been faxing directives to JJ's office to keep certain players out of the game.

I never even started trying to work out Vlad's ways and means of running his club, if I want mental anguish I'll just argue with my daughters, but, clearly, he's different.

Of course Vlad comes from the continental school of club management, in which we have a near-all-powerful president, who makes all the big decisions, and a trainer or coach, whose job is to put the players the president buys on the field and winning. This flies in the face of British practice, where the manager is God, he buys the players, trains them, picks the team and dictates the tactics, with the chairman at the other end of a fairly loose long rein and brought in to share in the glory when they win things, or to do the dirty deed when the manager is considered a failure.

This clash of personalities and roles has largely been won in England, while up here, it is still to a certain extent being fought by our more-conservative/reactionary managers. I think maybe JJ did the right thing in biting his tongue and letting Vlad have his way.

I mean, if an old-school scallywag like Harry Redknapp can, as he admitted in Sunday night's Alan Sugar vanity project shown on BBC2, accept the continental way of doing things - surely it's not too-late for JJ.

WHAT a relief Craig Whyte buying Rangers has been for one section of the Scottish media - the Lap Top Loyal, those hard-pressed hacks whose job it is to get the Old Firm hordes to buy their paper.

For a couple of years now - four whole transfer windows, they've been operating with one hand tied behind their backs, since they have been unable to speculate on which player was about to jet in and sign for Rangers.

Next week, when Craig Whyte hands SuperAlly the keys to the big office at the top of the marble staircase and the new, unsullied cheque book, it will again be open silly season on the transfer speculation stories.

Sharpen your chain saws Sven, Janni and the other Scandinavian tree-fellers, you're about to get a wee bit busier; all that extra newsprint has to come from somewhere.

I KNEW this fashion for white football boots would only lead to trouble - and it has. I notice that one-off eccentric Sandy Strang: teacher, writer, after-dinner-speaker, cricketer and all-round good egg rather upset the natives at East Kilbride at the weekend, by wearing white "blades" when playing cricket.

The Torrance House groundsman isn't too pleased with Mr Strang, comments were made to the umpite and Scotland's cricketing authorities may be about to get involved, albeit reluctantly as they've been hit for six by Sandy before.

But, what does one expect, allowing Weegies, even Hutchie-educated Weegies, even Hutchie-educated Weegies with an Oxford "blue" in soccer, to play the English gentleman's summer game of choice?

Of course, Sandy is saying it was an idea he picked up from an Australian - bloody colonials what.

It's Bull Week

I KNOW, you've read the heading and are asking: What the fuck is Bull Week? Well, Bull Week is an expression I first heard while doing missionary work in England. It is apparently the week before the week at the end of which, English factories shut for the annual two-week summer holidays. Traditionally, during Bull Week, the workers, for the only time in the year, worked flat-out, to ensure they had a healthy wage packet, bolstered by bonuses, to take into their holidays.

Ergo, with the big prizes to be settled, this is the week when the Old Firm players have to find overdrive to clinch the title, and in Celtic's case a potential League and Cup double; Hearts and Dundee United have to sort out third and fourth in their clashes with the Big Two and, at the foot of the SPL table, it's survive or bust for St Mirren and Hamilton.

'Twould be nice if the whole circus was settled with a flairfest of high-tempo attacking football from everyone, but hey, this is Scotland. The betting is, it will be grim oop North.

So, just what do I see happening this week? I have a feeling Rangers will cling-on to their one point advantage and clinch title 54, while Hamilton will carry through their great Houdini act at the expense of St Mirren.

My leaning towards a Rangers title was strengthened over the weekend when I bumped into a former Scottish player and manager, of the Celtic persuasion, who fears the worst for the Hoops.

"It's Lennon," he explained. "His teams don't win the crunch games - Ross County last season, the League Cup Final, Inverness. When they HAVE to win the pressure gets to him and through him to his players: Rangers will grim it out".

IT IS certainly not grim in one part of the North of England, with a shaft of heavenly light piercing the perma-gloom around Trafford Park. Title number 19 is heading for the Theatre of Dreams and once again the Govan Godzilla has seen-off the efforts of the rest to drag him down.

SAF might not be the most gallus and gregarious guy to sally forth from the People's Republic of Govan to change the world, but he's a winner. This is certainly not the most-entertaining Manchester United team ever to be sent out, but they are winners. How does he do it - and keep doing it?

If I was a Barcelona member (I think we're nearly all fans), I'd be worried about the up-coming Wembley trip. If the Special One could de-rail them last year, what might the Extra-Special Scottish One do this year?

JUST a thought on the Scottish election and the aftermath. If the London parties do decide to organise a snap referendum on independence, I think you'd find so-many Scots would be pissed-off with them, we'd vote Yes and we would have FREEDOM!!!

This might mean, if it happened quickly enough, we could have a Scottish football team at the London Olympics - Scotland v Britain (ok England) for the gold medal, at Wembley: bring it on.

I DON'T watch a lot of TV; in fact, I tend to pick up programmes later on the BBC iplayer and it's equivalent on the other channels. Last week, browsing the iplayer, I happened across Special 1 TV - a short, Spitting Image-type programme based round the notion of Jose the Special One having his own TV station, with Wayne Rooney as his reporter in the field, and Sven Goran Eriksson as a radio dj - it's hilarious, well-worth watching.

Paranoia Plus

JUST because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you - and they, whoever "they" are, certainly appear to be out to get Celtic this week. It hasn't been the best seven days for ra Sellick family, of London Road, Glasgow.

It began brightly enough with a fairly mundane win over Dundee United, since when it has all gone downhill faster than a bobsleigh crewed by Pavarotti, Cyril Smith MP, Vanessa Phelps and Fern Britton before she had her gastric band fitted.

There was that midweek Highland hiccup, then all these weeks of: "lets all laugh at Rangers" over the takeover ended; finally, Hearts "lay down" to Rangers (official Sellick View of this afternoon's events), to leave Poundstretcher FC (great line that from a Celtic fan on Scotsman.com) four points clear at the top of the table.

But, these series of events were surely not the low point of the week for the great-grandsons and daughters of Erin - that surely came on Friday morning, on BBC Scotland's Scottish Election Round-up programme - when Paul McBride QC outed himself as a true-blue, Maggie Thatcher-adoring, pro-Unionist CONSERVATIVE, just like his fellow member of the Faculty of Advocates, Donald Findlay QC.

SO SIR David Murray has taken himself off into the sunset: Ibrox no more and all that. Just how will history treat the man who was, for 36-years, Mr Rangers?

When it comes to SDM, ah kent his faither, who was a real gentleman, but, an inveterate gambler, whose downfall was brought about by his gambling addiction. David, thankfully for him, was less of a gambler than his father - but he still took some outrageous gambles in business and in his sporting life.

I hope history looks fondly upon him, for he certainly put a lot into Scottish sporting life over the past 30 years. I first met him when he was the man behind the Murray Internaitonal Metals basketball team.

With Murray's millions behind them MIM took Scottish basketball to a new level. He spent a lot of money chasing European glory, he brought some outrageously-talented American talent to Scotland, most-notably Alton Byrd: "the best basketball player in the world under six feet tall".

MIM were the top British side, then, after David Holmes took charge of Rangers and shipped Worthing Bears, lock, stock and barrel to Scotland, MIM were for a season, second-best, before Murray bought Rangers and with no mountains left to climb in basketball, got out to concentrate on football.

There, he spent millions trying to replicate his basketball success in football. But while the team, under Graeme Souness then Walter Smith, dominated Scotland, as with basketball, real, lasting European success was beyond him. So, as with basketball, so too with football - he stopped spending.

He tried to take on the Scottish media, starting his own Sunday paper, using the same formula as he had used in basketball and football - hire the top talent and let it run. Sadly for Murray, this didn't work and he cut his losses.

Now, after spreading his wings from his original core business of steel-stockholding into property, media, hotels, and other service industries, came the crunch, the Murray magic lost its lustre and he is now re-structuring his still-considerable business interests in very difficult times.

Perhaps the magic has lost its potency, perhaps the days of the business conglomerate such as Murray International Holdings are gone, only time will tell on this. But, what is certain, the days of David Murray in football are gone - unless he finally buys Ayr United as a retirement project.

He maybe wasn't so-much of a gambler as his late father, but he was a dreamer, who made dreams come true. In basketball, he promoted Scottish talent - signing every international class Scottish player and making MIM virtually a Scottish international squad masquerading as a club side, but he also hired top overseas talent and in the process brightened-up the domestic game.

Certainly he made mistakes at Ibrox. I don't think he realised just what a giant organisation he was taking-on and he never really was at-ease with the media demands of being Mr Rangers. He enjoyed the limelight, turning him from David Who? to a national personality, but I don't think he was ever happy with the demands of the football media.

Overall, he was good for Rangers and for Scottish sport - not just Scottish football. I wish him a happy future and I for one will miss him.

ENGLISH arrogance, don't you just love it? No, neither do I.

There has been a lovely example of EA this week, surrounding the big debate in the "Best league in the world", the Premiership down south. This debate is: who will succeed Edwin Van Der Saar in the Manchester United goal next season?

He may be heading for Bayern Munich, but the English media refuses to accept this, clinging to its near-unanimous belief that Shalke's Manuel Nueur will be unable to resist the chance to play at the Theatre of Dreams.

Whoever succeeds to United's number one shirt next season - I don't see it being Nueur and while I know SAF has an apparent blind spot when it comes to the merits of Scottish goalkeepers - come on Fergie, one mistake didn't make Jim Leighton a bad keeper - if I was him, I'd be going for Allan McGregor.

You can be technically the most-gifted player in your position in the world, but, if you are playing for a small-to-middling club, even in a huge league, it is no real preparation for life in the goldfish bowl with a really huge club.

McShagger has had his spells on the front page, but, by and large he has coped well with life as Rangers' goalkeeper. He has had a major role in keeping Rangers involved in the SPL title race this season - with vital saves at crucial times, not least that penalty save from Samaras. Publicity, good or bad, has seemingly no effect on him; he has proved himself internationally; he has Champions League experience and, perhaps most-significally - he will not cost the earth to prise away from Rangers. For me, he ticks all the boxes for Man U.

THIS WEEK I've been doing some historical work on an on-going book project and in the course of this I was looking at the way the much-criticised SFA selection committee worked in the post-war years.

From 1945 to 1955 there was a Scotland team and below that the Scottish League side. It was into the League XI that promising young players were fed, more often than not to find out if they could possibly take the step-up to international level.

After the embarrassment of Scotland's no-show in Brazil for the 1950 World Cup, the SFA came up with the concept of a B team, placed somewhere between the League XI and the full team, then, after the horrendous thumping by Uruguay in the 1954 World Cup, in came the Under-23 team, which in the mid-seventies, became the Under-21 team.

This development system, perhaps by accident, worked. Today, there is no international development programme within Scottish football. Today's Under-21 squad members are, more often than not, barely-established in their club's first team, while the original Scotland Under-23 side: which gave us Alex Parker, Eric Caldow, Dave Mackay and Graham Leggat was an XI of young but established first team players.

In the fifties, the B team could contain uncapped and capped players - but these capped guys had to have less than four caps. The Scotland B team has largely been wiped from the memory banks, but of the first Scotland B team, which played France in Toulouse in November, 1952, all but goalkeeper Tommy Ledgerwood of Partick Thistle and outside right Joe Buchanan of Clyde went on to win full caps.

Tommy Docherty, Blackpool's Hugh Kelly and Bolton's Willie Moir had one cap each, Alex Parker, future World Cup captain Willie Cunningham, Thistle's Jimmy Davidson, East Fife's Ian Gardiner, St Mirren's Tommy Gemmell and Hibs' Willie Ormond, the future Scotland boss, all went on to be capped.

Ronnie Simpson, South African John Hewie, Portsmouth's Jackie Henderson, Leicester's Jock Anderson, Celtic's Mike Haughney, Willie Fernie and Neil Mochan, Burnley's Jock Aird, Hearts's John Cumming and West Ham's John Dick emerged from the 1954 B team - even if it took Simpson 13 years to make the jump to the big team, while Bill Brown's sterling Scotland career received a boost when he won his B cap in 1956.

A year later, B internationals went into abeyance until the late eighties. Since then, apart from the short-lived experiment under Berti Vogts, which saw the B team re-named the "Futures" squad, and a couple of half-hearted games since, the B team has been neglected.

Now, however, with our international ranking with FIFA determined by how we perform in every international, I feel the time is right to restore B internationals, that way Craig Levein could experiment with his formations, team units such as central defence, midfield and so on without jeopardising our international co-efficient by perhaps losing otherwise meaningless friendlies.

Who's Got The Squeakier Bum?

I WENT for this colour of font as it's the one on my palette which is approximtely half-way between green and orange. I do not wish to be accused of partisanship at this most-serious of times, as the SPL title race reaches boiling point.

I still feel the SPL are probably going to need that helicopter and there will be a few further twists and turns between now and the end of the season. Nobody should have been surprised at last night's events in Inverness. As I have said before, Celtic have the deeper squad, but Rangers have that solid cadre of playrs who have been over this course before - they have the greater experience of winning a tight title race.

You will still, however, not get me down off my fence. This race could tip either way. Nobody should, by the way, be in any dobt about how much it means to Neil Lennon; how much he cares and how deeply that desire for victory is, but I just wish someone would give this guy lessons in grace under pressure. It's a hard one to pull off, but he really has to learn how to take defeat with dignity.

THE football business is totally different from every other business and even though businessmen have always been involved in the financial side of the game for as long as football has been professional - the way things are done in business is not the same way as things are done in football.

Take this Rangers' take-over. In football terms, it has dragged-on for almost a whole season, but in business terms, things have not been going-on all that long. The guys who write on the business pages work to a totally different timeline from the guys on the sports pages. The 24-hours between one first edition and the next is a life time on the sports desk, it's a twinkling of an eye across the aisle on the business desk.

The take-over will be done, in time, probably with Craig Whyte winning - but, just ask yourself this: if you had worked for years to build-up a multi-million pound business and had to commit more than 50 million of those hard-earned pounds to buying one entity - would you hurry it up just to suir a bunch of over-paid hacks and several thousand supporters, many of whom are definitely from "the underclass"? No, me neither. I'd want all the Is dotted and the Ts crossed and I'd be making absolutely sure there were no nasty surprises which might cost me more, lurking in the small print.

Unlike Fergus McCann when he bought Celtic, Craig Whyte will not, I assume, have to toddle along to the bank and deposit a bank draft for upwards of £1 million seconds before the plug is pulled. In banking terms, Rangers are a viable entity - a household brand, with a loyal following, attracting customers and with more than sufficient assets to cover its liabilities.

The majority share owner is a willing seller, Craig Whyte is a willing buyer - the deal will be done, only not as quickly as some hysterical onlookers might wish.

And, supposing Whyte's deal breaks down - well the bank will simply impose further financial restrictions, which Ally McCoist, the fans and the Laptoployal might not like, but will have to endure, until someone else comes along.

Rangers might have to suffer a season or three of relative non-success, in reduced circumstances, but that club will survive.

I recall as a teenager reading an article in the business pages of a Sunday newspaper, which said there were four Rs in business in which it was worth having shares - Rolls-Royce, Rowntree, Reuters and Rangers. They wouldn't deliver spectacular profits, but they were gilt-edged companies which would always provided dividends on their shares.

Rolls-Royce, Rowntree and Reuters have had their ups and downs since, there have been take-overs and there has been re-organisations, but they are still big companies. Rangers have since become one-man's plaything and been, it has to be admitted, grossly mis-managed (off the field) for the past decade; but Rangers is still a brand worth buying into. Craig Whyte knows that.

I AM not holding my breath, but with the PFA and the SPL awards done and dusted there only remains the big one, the Scottish Football Writers Association's awards night and all the merit prizes will have been giv en out.

I am not a member, I was for one season, many moons ago, but on reflection didn't want to be part of a club that was more about ego massaging and brown nosing than improving the lot of football writers. So, I haven't got a vote. But, knowing many of those who do, I feat THE manager of the Year will miss out.

That man is Barry Smith at Dundee, whose achievement in sweeping-up the shit he was left to inherit by another example of the lack of direction at the top of that club, has been unsurpassed this season.

Had it not been for the 25-point penalty imposed on the 'Dee, his side would have won the First Division title. Of course, you might argue, if they hadn't had that penalty as a just cause to fight against, they probably wouldn't have won the league any way.

That's a debating point, what is beyond debate is - Dundee have had a marvellous season and Smith should win the award.

However, should Rangers win the SPL, then you can bet, the Laptoployal will vote en-mass for the other Smith as MOY.

JUST a passing mention. The SPL is still debating re-organisation. In less time than the SPL has been arguing, the Scottish Rugby Union has convened a working party - which has consulted all the clubs - has discussed what they heard - come-up with a plan and will put that plan to the vote at the SRU's annual meeting in June, for changes to EVERY league in Scottish rugby, which will introduce a revamped national league and regional league set-up from August, 2011 and a properly-constituted national pyramid system in August 2012.

Scottish football has been talking about a pyramid for at least a decade and has done nothing.

And they call the rugby players thick.

Don't Vote It Only Encourages Them

TOMORROW, Scotland goes to the polls to elect our government for the next five years. I always, at election time, marvel at the way my colleagues at the front of the papers get themselves into a lather over opinion polls, which, at the moment are all indicating Alex Salmond will be re-elected to head an SNP government.

That will, I expect, be the outcome - what will remain in doubt until the final vote is counted some time on Friday is: will Wee Eck be heading another minority administration, or will he, this time, have a working majority. The trouble with opinion polls is, they cannot fully answer this question, since pollsters' samplings only question a limited number of voters. In reality the papers should be doing, when commenting on opinion polls is putting-in the disclaimer: "such-and-such a percentage (of those polled) will be voting SNP/SLAB/Monster Raving Looney Party or whatever.

The election campaign has been a compressed SPL campaign - we know it will be one or other of two big teams which will win; we think one of them has a slight advantage as the polls open, but we are not sure if it can hold-on for victory.

Wee Eck Salmond is, I suppose, the Neil Lennon of Scottish Politics. He is now easily the biggest personality in this particular game, he's got an awful lot of enemies, but he almost revels in this hatred, doesn't give a toss what the rest think and will go his own way.

Ian Gray, sadly for SLAB is no Walter Smith, in fact I think he's more like Jim Jefferies. He has this image as a torn-faced so-and-so who is more dogged than gifted and what I understand as a good sense of humour in private never comes across in public. Also, like JJ, he has to deal with an absentee boss, who sits 400 miles away, seldom visits Scotland and pulls all the strings.

I suppose Annabel Goldie is Maw Broon, while wee Craigie in football is Paw Broon. Mind you, going by his track record, Maw fine wummin though she is, is probably 20-years too-old for Paw.

The big difference, however, between Scottish politics and Scottish football is - in football we can definitely tell the big two apart.

WELL done the SPL in voting big Mixu as Clydesdale Bank, SPL Manager of the Year - his feat in righting the good ship Killie, which was listing heavily when he took over has been a display of exceptional management and he has got his just reward in being asked to take over his national side.

I WAS speaking to one of the "names" on a national newspaper sports page this week and this writer, one of the best in the business, was telling me that, since his team is in the SFL Irn-Bru First Division, he has been watching them quite a lot, by choice, whilst duty keeps him otherwise in the SPL.

His opinion is: the First Division is the more-entertaining league. Great, I thought it was only me who thought that; I'm glad someone else has seen the penny drop.

SPEAKING of the gap between First Division and SPL - wouldn't it be great if SFL-style play-offs were intorduced and we had the possibility of two-up, two-down between the two leagues?

I wasn't a great fan of the SFL play-offs when they were first introduced, but, they have grown on me and they are now a definite cracking way to end the season. I like the format, whereby second-bottom of the upper league plays fourth in the lower league, while second and third in the lower league go head-to-head, in the play-off semi-finals. This usually means second-bottom facing second-top in the final, which is only fair, since there is seldom much between the teams finishing second and third in the lower league, or between bottom and second-bottom in the upper one.

We tend to think the SFL teams are maybe a wee bit set in their ways, sort of stick-in-the-mud outfits, but, by introducing play-offs they brightened up the end of the season.

Time to extend the fun and interest to include the SPL I think.

GREAT to see Paul Lambert's Norwich City back in the big time, with automatic promotion to the English Premiership assured. And with Delia Smith doing the purvey, they'll be welcomed back with open arms.

Good news too for Craig Levein; with the Canaries promoted, I would hope Simon Lappin begins to be spoken of as a Scotland possible. He will, hopefully increase the competition for the left back/wide left position in the national team, where his pinpoint crosses could be a potent weapon.

Bring Back Joyce Grenfell

THE late Joyce Grenfell was in some ways an acquired taste - but some of her sketches have stood the test of time and, like Del Boy Trotter falling through the bar, Basil Fawtly not mentioning the war or Captain Mainwaring saying: "Don't tell him Pike", her offerings such her exasperated nursery school teacher have proved to be timeless.

The High Heid Yins at the SFA and SPL must feel like this poor teacher, trying to see the best in her young charges, and loathe to wield the big stick, as they survey the daily tit-for-tat postings from both sides of the Old Firm divide on Scotland's football websites. It has all become too-silly for words.

That said, I did laugh at one offering I saw, which followed the assassination of Osama Bin Laden by that USA special forces unit. This suggested OBL's death promoted Neil Lennon to fifth place on the UK's "most-hated" list, behind: 1, Jose Mourinho; 2, Ashley Cole; 3, Gary Neville; and 4, the guy who is supposed to be shagging Pippa Middleton. Now that's healthy Old Firm banter.

Not so-healthy is the feigned outrage at Davie Weir's loyal message on his strip at Motherwell. The SFA's response was one of the rare cases which you see these days of Jack Mowat's advice to referee's: "There are 17 written laws in football, but the most-important one is the unwritten law 18 - 'use your common sense'".

WELL done John Higgins, putting a really hard time behind him with Snooker World Title number four.

Scotland gets a hard time sometimes, but Higgins is now accepted as a true sporting icon, alongside fellow snooker hot-shot Stephen Hendry; Olympians Sir Chris Hoy, Allan Wells, Dick McTaggart, Eric Liddell etc; world champions in diverse sports such as athlete Liz McColgan; boxer Ken Buchanan; motor sport's Jim Clark, Sir Jackie Stewart and Colin McCrae; bowlers Richard Corsie, Hugh Duff, Paul Foster, David Gourlay, Alec Marshall and Willie Wood; horseman Ian Stark and so forth.

Notice anything, all these sporting greats got to the top in individual sport, even though the petrol-fuelled "Flying Scotsman" were certainly at the sharp end of big organisations.

Why cannot Scotland produce great teams in team sports, particularly football. For all our lengthy list of footballing icons over the 130 years - apart from the Lisbon Lions, we haven't had a single team at the top of an official FIFA or UEFA pecking order. Certainly our great teams - the successive teams of the 1870s and 1880s, our great sides of the 1920s, epitomised by the 1928 Wembley Wizards, were brilliant at times when football wasn't the global game it is today.

We rested on our laurels and let the rest of the world pass us by. Isn't it time we got back to basics, re-discovered the Scottish qualities which made our football teams great and got back to the top, where we feel we belong?

I MET Willie O'Neill, who passed away last week, once or twice and he was one of life's good guys. A good, journeyman, but lacking that magical X-factor which separates the merely good from the great.

Like so many Old Firm journeymen, he could so-easily have settled for the mundane when his time with Celtic, the only team he ever wanted to play for, came to an end.

He went to Carlisle United, then a mid-table Division Two (Championship to the younger reader) English side. But, at Burnton Park, he found himself earning as much as he had at Parkhead, and playing to as good a level. He was a star there, only to see his career cut-short by injury.

His Carlisle debut was in a pre-season friendly against Celtic, which United won 1-0. The reason they won was simple, Celtic fan O'Neill had a point to prove to Jock Stein, the manager who had released him; while goalkeeper Allan Ross, brought-up in a Rangers-supporting family in Springburn, was under orders from father, mother, uncles, cousins and school friends from Albert Secondary to: "No let them Tims beat y0u".

Between them O'Neill and Ross inspired a Carlise win. And that's why Celtic and Rangers players of today keep their teams at the top. In every game they play in Scotland, Celtic and Rangers are up against an XI which probably contains a minimum of six Old Firm fans. The three Rangers ones want to either, show Rangers what they missed, or beat the other lot - the three Celtic fans, same thing, different order. No other Scottish clubs have to face this many on-field fans, determined to beat them.

Not Your Average Angel

IT is hard-enough picking a side here on earth; just be grateful, when (if) we get there, so few of us will have to pick the best-of teams from those available to the managers of the teams, playing on the Eleyssian fields of the hereafter.

If heaven really is heaven, it almost makes you want to rush up there to see real, flowing, attractive and attacking football every day. Coversely football in hell must be terrible - buses parked on both 18-yard lines, kicking matches every time - well it will make the Auchinleck and Cumnock committeemen who are sent there feel at home.

But, imagine if you were Harry Swan, or whoever was manager of the Heavenly Hibs, when, just before kick-off on Saturday, St Peter walked in with: "Your latest signing, Eddie Turnbull". It wouldn't be so-bad for Swan say, he did after all manager Hibs to three league titles and he had Ned as one of his Famous Five. But, from now on he'll be looking over his shoulder for his job and in any case, who drops out to allow the Heavenly Hibs to field four-fifths of the Famous Five? I assume up there by the way, Joe Baker is holding the number nine fort for Lawrie Reilly, still, happily, with us mortals; but who, until Saturday, was holding the 10 shirt for Eddie?

I was lucky enough to see Turnbull play and to interview him on two or three occasions - a great character and man - he will be mourned beyond the confines of Easter Road and Pittodrie.

A pal of mine who played under him at Queen's Park tells me, Eddie in full, four-lettered flow had a wondrous command of early Anglo-Saxon and could use the F word as noun, adjective, adverb, pronoun or whatever. Rest in Peace sir.

THE daily Rumour Mill on Scotsman.com is essential reading for all lovers of football banter. Invariably 99% of the posts concern the Old Firm and a large percentage of these are mutual tit-for-tat posts by wind-up merchants of both hues.

It's great stuff. Some of the posters have the ability to read sectariansim and bigotry into what seem to be the blandest of posts - Mason Boyne (Robbie Coltrane's wondrous Orangeman creation from his days with BBC Scotland's Comedy Unit) is alive and well, as is his Celtic alter ego. It just makes you fear for any end to the quasi-religion cloaked in football constituency in Scotland. But what really worries me when reading the Rumour Mill is: these guys have computers and internet access.

I WAS at the Ayr v Currie rugby match on Saturday. We've seen our football referees denigrated almost non-stop this season. We've seen decisions good and bad, right and wrong debated ad nauseum from August to now and received wisdom appears to be - Scottish fitba referees are shite.

Across the road, the Scottish guys who play with odd-shaped balls have been mounting a season-long campaign to big-up our much-maligned rugby referees, not one of whom has been considered good enough to go to the Rugby World Cup in the autumn, while some Irish and Welsh guys who are frankly, a joke, will be there.

Then, along came Peter Allen in the Wales v Ireland game, to tell a bigger porkie than even Dougie McDonald and Shug Dallas. At least Celtic won that game at Tannadice, Allen's porkie-pie cost Ireland an international and a Triple Crown.

On Saturday at Millbrae, Andrew McMenemy, a young, full-time referee, who is being fast-tracked to the top by the SRU gave a totally inept display which, had he made it during an Ayrshire junior game, somewhere like Auchinleck or Cumnock, would have kicked-off World War III and maybe earned him a nice warm bed in Ayr Hospital's A&E Unit.

He made Willie Collum look competent - honest. That said, McMenemy and his two touch judges, who were equally poor, vigorously defended their positions under fierce questioning from Ayr members in the club house after the match. This is much-more civilised than the football scenario whereby referees are smuggled into and out of grounds under security escort and much-healthier. All was resolved, even if they agreed to differ on one or two decisions, within an hour or so of the final whistle.