We're Shite, But We Still Refuse To Admit We Are

COURTESY of my BT Sport account, I enjoyed an orgy of fitba last night, watching the Rangers and Celtic Europa League games back to back. Well, actually, I fell asleep during the first half of the Celtic game, but, that was hardly surprising.

 Allan McGregor - the one Rangers Class player they have

The fact is, had I not allowed my membership to lapse about 20-years ago, I'd be drummed-out of the Scottish Football Writers Association for saying this, neither of the two standard-bearers for Scottish fitba is, at the moment, much good.

I did not expect much from Rangers. Steven Gerrard's side is very much a work in progress. The cruel fact is, apart from Allan McGregor, I doubt if my late father would have considered any of last night's squad to have been “Rangers Class.” However, given the way the club has been mismanaged for the last decade, we need not be surprised at that.

Rangers played second fiddle to their Spanish hosts for most of the game, but, where they were Rangers class was in their determination not to give up, and they got their reward with a draw. To get a point when you have played second fiddle for most of the game is a good result by any standards.

I have no great expectations from Rangers in Europe this season. Anything better than third in the group will be a bonus in my view.

Gerrard's team will get better, and last night, they took a fairly-significant step in the right direction.

NOW we turn to Celticist narrow win over Rosenberg. Long before Brendan Rodgers finally turned to his ace-in-the-hole: Leigh Griffiths, I was saying to myself: “The only way Celtic can win this is to get wee Leigh on, he will score.” Rodgers put him on – he scored.

He may come across as a wee nyaff - but, he can score goals, so, I would play him

Celtic Park on European nights is made for a Seventh Cavalry bugler sounding the charge, for harum-scarum, helter-skelter, non-stop aggression – not the two passes sideways, one pass back, play which Celtic used to put me to sleep in the first half.

Unfortunately, while Jock Stein knew he could throw eight men forward, and rely on Big Billy and Wee John to keep the door to Ronnie Simpson's goal firmly bolted, Brendan Rodgers does not have that luxury.

He is also minus a genuine midfield play-maker, able to make the “killer” pass. And, while I accept, he can still be a major player in domestic Scottish football, I think Scott Brown's days are past in Europe. That said, replacing him will not be easy.

Celtic have been “flat” all season – they are certainly vulnerable, both at home and more-so in Europe this season.

But, as long as they have Griffiths, you can never write them off. He gives the impression of being a thoroughly unlikeable chap: petted lip, chip on both shoulders, a storm looking for a tea cup. However, he will score goals for you.

WHILE I am in critical mode – what about the fans last night? The small Rangers following in Spain lived up to their reputation. The may have dropped the letters F, T and P from their vocal repertoire, but: up to their knees in Fenian blood, they were still not for surrendering their reputation as: “A constant embarrassment and occasional disgrace.”

Still, we expect nothing less from Ra Peep; their sense of entitlement has lang syne convinced them, they have a licence to embarrass themselves and Scotland, all over the world.

But, last night, when I woke-up for the second half at Celtic Park, I was more aware of the pro-IRA singing than I have been for some time. Of course, their elders and “betters” such as James Kelly MSP, have convinced the lunatic fringe of the Celtic following that, there is now no such thing as Offensive Behaviour at Football, so they can sing what they like.

How I long for the day when both clubs will root-out their quarter-wits, but I fear I will never see that day, the lunatics have been running the asylums for too long.

I WAS intrigued by a wee headline on the BBC Sport Scotland web page this morning. Apparently the SPFL's Premier Division clubs and the English Premiership clubs have been lobbying the Westminster government for a wee bit of leeway in the Brexit negotiations – which would ensure they could still import lots of foreign talent, after the UK exits the EU.

Maybe it's time for the FA and the SFA to grow a pair and tell their spendthrift, over-hyped top leagues: “No guys, it's maybe time you stopped buying foreign and started being home-grown and self-sufficient.”

Because, I am still convinced, nothing would get Scottish football (I don't give a shite for the English game) back closer to football's top table, than encouraging home-grown Scottish talent.

My old mate Chico - I'd bring-in his eight diddies rule

Bring back Chick Young legendary “eight daddies” rule and let's see more Scots playing.

ANOTHER contentious point in the news this week is the ongoing debate about VAR in Scottish football.

As we all know, the problem with using new technology in settling sporting arguments is – the human element. I accept, even John McEnroe has come round to loving tennis's technological solution to the question of a ball being in or out, but, that is far-more straight-forward than either rugby's use of Television Match Officials (TMOs) or football's use of VAR.

If Hawk eye says: “In” or “Out”, that's it – you cannot argue with a machine. But you can and will argue with a TMO or a VAR team, because, they include the human element, and humans aint error-proof.

For the SFA and the SPFL to claim they cannot afford to implement VAR is absurd. They will surely find, they cannot afford not to. Mind you, I think they'll be OK, I believe there are enough old referees in the ranks of the Old Firm's joint support, to ensure, the “right” decisions are arrived at.

The SFA is making-out, they cannot afford to bring in VAR. Truth is, they cannot afford not to.