WHERE is the old fart going with this one? You might well ask; but bear with me please as I carry-on from where I left-off yesterday, with my piece about businessmen not taking care of business when that business is football.
I got the idea for this post from reading a copy of Des McKeown's excellent book, ghosted by my old mate Bill Leckie: 'Don't Give Up The Day Job'. This tome is a diary of a year in the life of office equipment sales director and part-time footballer McKeown. It was written a decade agom but is still relevant today, by which time McKeown, still flogging the stationery, is a valued member of the BBC Sportsound team.
One of the questions Des asked in his excellent book was: "When will football adopt good business practices, such as the annual review"? Of course, not all businesses go in for "the annual review" - certainly journalism doesn't. I well recall, again some ten years ago, when the big newspaper group which then paid me my pittance decided editors would have to conduct a twice-yearly review of the performances of their journalists.
The man to whom I then answered was decidedly old school, definitely not in favour of this, but, he had to go through with it. I should say here, had it been done properly, at least 20% of the editorial staff would have been out of the door, but, no chance of that. In my case, the interview consisted of him asking me how I thought I had done: me pointing-out how much more work I, as a one-man-band sports department did in comparison to the general news staff and how much-easier my job would be if he told the News Editor, who shared his bed, to keep her nose out of stuff she knew hee-haw about. I then added that I was being grossly under-paid and over-worked.
The review was then abruptly terminated as I was given a two word instruction, the second word was "Off". The review was never repeated.
Now, supposing reviews became common-place in football. Just what might be said between say a Scotland Under-21 internationalist, whose season had been spent warming the bench for an SPL side, whose squad comprised mainly cheap foreign imports, taking the money, kissing the badge but making it quite clear Scotland and the SPL was a convenient staging-post en route to the riches of a bigger league such as the EPL, and his manager; a man with no genuine man-management training, a coaching certificate, obtained more than a decade before and never updated by a refresher course since?
"Well Shuggie son - your warm-ups are impressive; you're out there quickly, your stretches seem deep and full. You're never late for training, you come on all the nights out, you put up with the wind-ups and awe that other pish - but, you're too-young and I cannot justify putting you on - maybe next season, keep it up son. Anything you want to ask?"
"Aye gaffer - how come that big Greek tit, who couldnae hit a coo oan the erse wi a banjo and scores aboot wance every five gemmes gets tae stert every week an ah'm stuck oan the bench, in spite o haen scored fower late equalisers and twa last-meenit winners aff the bench?"
"Well son, that's Scottish fitba - ye hae tae serve yer time."
"Right boss, OK."
Not that long ago Scotland was the destination of choice for English managers seeking to augment their squads - today, while admittedly the number of Scots in the EPL is growing by the season, this is far from the case. Where once the likes of Liverpool, Arsenal, Everton and Manchester United raided each year's Scottish Schoolboys Under-15 or Under-16 team for their future stars, today, zilch - they shop for future talent in Spain, France or Africa.
The English sides would have Scottish scouts, scouring the provincial clubs for: "the next big thing" - if a Dundee United or Hibs player got into the Scotland squad, it was only a matter of time before the big money move to England. Today, their successors have to arrange their own move South via a Bosman.
Look at the British motor industry. When we had an Empire, or a Commonwealth we were commited to: Austins, Rovers, MGs, Rileys, Hillmans and Sunbeam cars were commonplace on the city streets of Africa and Asia, while AEC and Leyland buses carried the poor into these cities, where the nation's goods were delivered on AEC, Leyland, Guy or Bedfor trucks and vans.
At home, a Leyland or Foden or ERF or Atkinson truck, powered by a Manchester-built Gardner engine hauled the goods up and down the A1 or A6. In Scotland, our own, Glasgow-built Albions had a strong local customer base: while the smaller Perkins-engined Bedfords or Morris Commercials, or the Slough-built Fordson trucks and vans plied our city streets. Hell, we even sent Ford Transit vans around the world.
But, the British manufacturers refused to move with the times: Volvo, Scania, MAN, Iveco, Renault and Mercedes trucks are everywhere today; sure, Alexanders of Falkirk still make bus bodies, but for chassis built by these foreign firms, no longer for British-manufactured AEC, Bedford or Leyland chassis.
These firms stopped investing in technical development, the British worker would not move with the times and our manufacturing industry foundered. Our bankers, who had supported British expansion, settled for American-style "casino banking", betting millions on currency movements and ignoring their British clientele.
Well, I would suggest - the Scottish clubs stopped investing in their raw materials, the kids. We ignored the traditional wee, red-headed Scottish wing half, who could play a 60-yard pass onto a sixpence, but could also, when required, tame a much-bigger, more physically-imposing opponent with the ferocity of his tackling. We stopped playing pass and move, we settled for a couple of generations of "players" who could run all day through a ploughed field, but couldn't trap a bag of cement, guys whose second touch was a frantic slide tackle to try to recover the ball which they could easily mis-kick off either shin.
We settled for mediocrity and that's what we've got.
The SFA boasts of the quality of its coaching courses. Well it sure doesn't boast of the quality of the management - and I don't mean the managers - of its clubs. I don't blame the team managers: the Scots bosses up here grew up in the era of only putting-in four, two-hour training sessions per week. Few if any of them came through the school which said: "Fail here and you're back down the pit or into the ship yard or the foundry on Monday". They had an easy life as players and they are happy to continue that easy life as managers.
If they fail, and most do, there is always the old pal's act of a gig on BBC Sportsound, where the rules are: "Don't criticise, don't be too-opinionated and remember, never criticise the Old Firm". Obey these and you've got an easy wee gig for years.
Just, don't demand too-big an improvement, don't ask for more from your players, don't question the status quo - get through it. The mugs on the terraces will put up with it.
Except, times are hard, the mugs are not putting up with it, they are voting with their feet, to find ways of watching better football on TV or on the internet.
Scottish football is dying and unless we get business doctors in to sort out the way the clubs and the game are run - in a few years we will not have a Scottish Football to worry about.
I can hardly wait to read the first prognosis from the first business doctor to properly analyse the management of a top Scottish club - it will, I bet, make fascinating reading.
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