ONE of the earliest lessons I received as I set out in this mad trade of sports-writing, came from an elderly practitioner of the art, who had, after, in winning a bet, had written what became a best-selling action blockbuster novel, set out to drink himself to death.
This took him some years, but, while he was succeeding in this life-ending task, a few of we young whipper-snappers had the benefit of his experience, as we digested matches over a pint or ten of a Saturday evening.
My late friend always stressed that, whilst in many walks of life, there were lies, damned lies and statistics, in sport, the stats rarely lied. Specifically if one side enjoyed an overwhelming percentage of the possession in any game, unless they suffered from chronic incompetence, they should win.
Given this fact, which I agree might not be infallable, Celtic can have few complaints as regards the outcome of Tuesday night's clash with Barcelona. Clearly, on the night, the better team won.
It therefore did Neil Lennon no favours when, post-match, he embarked on his character assassination of Neymar, as regards the incident which got Scott Brown his red card. For me, the referee had no option other than to dismiss Brown. I accept the Brazilian made the most of the moment, but, given his countryman, yon big sap of an AC Milan goalkeeper, whose name escapes me's performance, when tickled in the passing by the legendary Celtic supporter Juan Guy some years ago - none of the Celtic Family should be surprised when a Brazilian indulges in Olivier-like histrionics when he gets the chance.
It was a red card Neil, forget it and move on.
What disappointed me was that Brown should be so-stupid. In his younger days, he more than once let himself down by getting involved in on-field incidents which mitigated against his talent. However, I had thought that, since becoming club then national captain, he had grown-up and put such childish indescretions behind him. Clearly I was wrong.
His dismissal and the suspension which will surely follow, makes it even harder for Celtic to claim the consolation prize of Europa League participation post-Christmas. In this Group of Faded Glory, that was always their most-likely prize, without Broon, they will struggle to outdo even Ajax, for third place and the Europa consolation prize.
Rather than seeking to defend his captain, Lennon should be making it clear in no uncertain terms, that his skipper let himself, the club and those marvellous fans down last night. A wee bit contrition should follow.
MEANWHILE, across the city, the Edmiston Drive soap opera continues, as the newly-published accounts are pored over by all and sundry. I have said since this whole shooting match kicked-off, with the exposure, even before he had got his feet below the board room table, of Craig Whyte's unsuitability for the role of guardian of the club, that the only people who would win out of Rangers travails were the lawyers and accountants.
I forgot to add the spin doctors and PR leeches. I didn't reckon on the guys who had to shovel away the shit Whyte left being just as crass crooks. I thought, having gotten into trouble via the excesses of the Murray Years, Rangers would slim down, seek to run a tight ship and, even though the road back might be longer and harder, try to build solid foundations from which to re-establish the duopoly at the top of Scottish football.
Clearly I was wrong. The same old mistakes are being repeated as far as fiscal management are concerned. The only conclusion I can reach is - be prepared for more tears guys.
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