Gibralter, Aye That Was Maybe A Wee Bit Too Far, Beyond Seville

MY MATE big Billy was in unusually good form when I met him in the pub this lunch-time. He was just back from his annual trip to Belfast, for “the Twelfth” and he was telling the pub and the world: “Och aye, this was the best Twelfth – ever. We had the parade and all the other stuff, then word came through that Celtic had lost in Gibraltar; well that just topped everything”.

Wee Liam, the “Token Tim” in our distinctly Orange-hewed village here in God's Orange County of East Ayrshire was even more downbeat than I had expected him to be. His response to my assurance that order will be restored in the course of the second leg at Celtic Park, was not what I expected.

“I hope you're right big man, but, while normally I would agree with you; with that defence, I am not confident, particularly if Brendan persists with Efe Ambrose”, he said.

I can see where Liam is coming from. I have a rugby-playing pal who was good enough to have played for Scotland. Indeed, he made around half a dozen appearances in teams named: “A Scotland XV”, “An SRU XV”, “the SRU President's XV” and so-forth, but, the tassled cap never came his way. It transpired, while he had, on his own account, done nothing wrong, indeed, on one or two occasions he had been singled-out for praise for his performances, but, he was a common denominator in one or two “disasters for Scotland”, and, as such, he never got the ultimate honour and joined the ranks of the full internationalists.

Ambrose is an international player, he has played in the World Cup, but, just maybe, having been involved in one or two Hoops horror shows, he is a convenient scape goat when things go wrong. One, thing, 20-years or so down the line, there will not be a couple of million Celtic fans claiming to have been at Brendan Rodgers' first game as Celtic boss.

Unlike Wee Liam, I am convinced, Efe Ambrose or no, Celtic will win with goals to spare in the second leg.

AS AN old “hot metal” newspaper man, I am somewhat harsh on the kids in the front line of football reporting today. Now that big Shuggie MacDonald is reinventing himself as an all-purpose multi-sport commentator, I do not see anyone in the A Team of Scottish fitba scribblers who will be prepared to sock it to the Big Three – the managements of Scotland and the Old Firm - when they fuck-up. Mind you, not since Shuggie's and My Inspiration, the late, great Ian “Dan” Archer, Alex “Chiefy” Cameron and Gerry “the Voice of Football” McNee were in their pomp, have we had a half-back line of football writers willing and able to put the boot into Hampden, Ibrox and Celtic Park.

And, Dan, Chiefy and Gerry were amateurs, compared to some who went before them. I may have, in the past, mentioned one of my all-time heroes among the ranks of the fitba scribes, the late Cyril Horne, for many years the Glasgow Herald's football correspondent.

Cyril's greatest moment came during the 1954 World Cup Finals in Switzerland. Scotland were in the process of being gubbed 7-0 by reigning World Champions Uruguay. As one of the Uruguayan goals, I was told the fifth, went in, one excited South American scribe rose and directed some less than sympathetic words at the by now thoroughly sick Scottish scribes in the press box inside Basle's Sankt Jacob Stadion.

This was too-much for Cyril; he put down his pen, took off his specs, apologised to his fellow Scots for what he was about to do, then went up to the Uruguayan and delivered the perfect “Glasgow Kiss”, leaving the South American bloodied and slumped back in his seat. Cyril then returned to his seat and carried on as if nothing had happened. A legend was born.

Cyril could be equally forthright in print, as I was reminded this morning, while researching a historical piece I am currently writing. My research took me to the sports pages of the Herald, in April, 1959. Rangers had just won another Scottish League title, albeit signing-off with a terrible 2-1 home loss to an Aberdeen team which thanks to that win, finished 12^th in the table. Had they not won that game, Aberdeen would have finished third-bottom, by the way.

Anyway, in summing-up the campaign, Cyril suggested that Rangers, and/or the SFA, should contact UEFA and withdraw the Ibrox side from the following season's European Cup. Warming to his theme he concluded this was the worst Rangers team in living memory and, should they be drawn against Real Madrid, or indeed any half-way competent continental side, Rangers and Scotland would be humiliated and toyed with.

Suffice to say, Rangers did indeed play in the European Cup the following season, where they were humiliated, eliminated, on the wrong end of a 12-4 aggregate score-line, by Eintracht Frankfurt. However, that defeat came at the semi-final stage, after they had seen-off Anderlecht, Red Star Bratislava and Sparta Rotterdam. Would that our champions could get past the best from Belgium, Slovakia and the Netherlands today, and, even in defeat, put four goals past the German champions.

The Rangers squad of which Cyril was so dismissive included Scotland caps: Eric Caldow, Ian McColl, Willie Telfer, Sammy Baird, Alex Scott, Johnny Little and Ian McMillan, plus Irish internationalist Billy Simpson. The squad also included future Scotland caps Bobby Shearer, Jimmy Millar, Ralph Brand, Davie Wilson and Davie Provan; Under-23 internationalists Max Murray and Billy Stevenson; B cap Bill Paterson and League caps George Niven and South African Johnny Hubbard, plus a certain Harold Davis, who was no mean player and perhaps the bravest man who ever stepped onto a football pitch.

I just wonder what Cyril would have made of Lincoln Red Imps 1 – Celtic 0.

CAN I just say – respect to Hearts, for their decision to resurrect the salmon and primrose “Rosebery” colours as their change strip for next season.