A Reason To Right A Wrong

I HAVE A bit of a bee in my bonnet at the moment, so, I thought I would get it out there with the following post. Be prepared, it is a long read, but, I think what I am saying here needs to be said.

OLD AUNTIE BBC is hitching up her crinolines and about to embark on one of its periodic bouts of partiotic drum beating, as the countdown gets under way to the 80^th anniversary of VE-Day and the end of World War II in Europe.

I don't know about you, but I have a more than slight fear that this May date might be over-shadowed by something else, since Donald Trump might well be thinking: “We were late to the party for World Wars I and II, so we should maybe get in first and start WWIII.”

But, enough of these morbid thoughts, since this here United Kingdom only has a mainly inglorious past to celebrate, The Establishment, which includes of course the BBC, has decided to celebrate one of those rare occasions when they were The Good Guys and is going Full Monty on VE-Day 80.

Well, we Scots paid a heavier price for getting rid of the Austrian House Painter and his cronies, so, how ought we to celebrate our part in the victory?

One of the lesser campaigns of WWII was winning on the Home Front, keeping those not in uniform on-message and on-side and one of the ways this was done was by promoting war-time international sport.

After a slow start, with normal league play adandoned for the duration, the football authorities got their act together and took the general populace's mind off the rigours of being bombed, or getting the dreaded telegram informing them of the death in action of a loved one, or simply worrying about brothers, sisters and other relatives, away fighting, by providing organised sport.

Between the outbreak of the War in Autumn 1939, to the resumption of normal football in 1946, teams branded 'Scotland' took part in 35 matches, usually in aid of war-time charities. These teams faced various Armed Forces selections, however, some 21 of the games were branded as “Internationals”.

Of these, 17 were against England and I can well see why the Scottish Football Association has been reluctant to acknowledge these games, since we only posted 3 wins, 3 draws and suffered 11 defeats – some of them heavy.

Of the other four games, we beat Ireland, Wales and Belgium. The other “international” is something of a disputed match. In late April, 1940, a Scotland team apparently went to Dublin's Dalymount Park and beat a Republic of Ireland team. However, there are suggerstions that the Scotland team was in fact organised and selected by the Glasgow FA, while the Irish side was branded as a League of Ireland XI.

In 2023, to celebrate their 150^th anniversary, the Scottish Rugby Union retrospectively capped a number of players who had appeared in “non-cap matches”; these included those players who had participated in the war-time internationals between 1939 and the Victory Internationals of 1946.

I believe, the upcoming VE-Day 80 celebrations would offer the Scottish Football Association an opportunity to likewise retrospectively cap those players who appeared in one or the 21 war-time internationals, mainly against England, which, although we didn't win many of them, kept spirits up in the darkest hours.

Of course, a lot of the playrers who wore navy blue in these games had been capped pre-war: the likes of Tommy Walker, Willie Shankly, Matt Busby, Jimmy Delaney, to name but a few. Others, the likes of George Young, Willie Waddell, Billy Liddell and Bobby Brown had their first taste of playing for Scotland in war-time, before going on to be officially capped following the end of hostilities and the resumption of “normal” football.

However, a quick browse through the record books enabled me to find 37 players, some of them well-known in the game, who represented Scotland in war-time games, but never got an official “full” cap. These players, listed alphabetically, are:

Tommy Bogan (Hibs), whose only appearance was in a heavy defeat to Englandf, at Hampden in April, 1945 served a few clubs during his more than a decade in the game. Having made his name at Easter Road, he fulfilled a boyhood ambition by joining Celtic, before moving south, with Preston North End, then Manchester United. He then had a short spell with Aberdeen, before returning to England to play out his career with Southampton, Blackburn Rovers and finally Macclesfield Town. He settled in the Manchester area, where he died.

Bobby Bolt (Rangers), whose solitary game was in that game against The Republic of Ireland, at Dalymount Park, Dublin, on 28 April, 1942; a game the Scots won 3-2.

Arsenal's Gordon Bremner, whose brother Hutton won Scottish League caps during a long career with the likes of Queen's Park, Aberdeen, Motherwell and Hamilton Accies, made a couple of appearances for Scotland in war-time games during 1942.

Tommy Brown (Heart of Midlothian) won three war-time caps, between 1940 and 1943.

Willie Buchan, while with Blackpool, joined that long list of Scottish “one-cao wonders” by his participation in a heavy loss to England, at Hampden in 1943.

Jimmy Caskie is perhaps best-remembered for being at the centre of a diplomatic incident, when Moscow Dynamo took excception to him being named in the Rangers team to face them in 1945. Jimmy is one of those players who was at the top for years, but never won a full cap. During the War, he was with St Mirren, Everton and Rangers as he picked-up no fewer that eight war-time unofficial caps.

 

Ken Chisholm (pictured above in his Sunderland days) is probably worthy of a special place in Scottish football history, because when he turned out at inside left for Scotland, in a Victory International against Northern Ireland, in Belfast in February, 1946, he became the last Queen's Park player to play in an otherwise proessional international. It was his solitary cap as his other commitments as an RAF fighter pilot got in the way somewhat After the war he played for Partick Thistle, a number of English clubs and finished with football as Manager of Glentoran.

Celtic centre-half Willie Corbett is sometimes referred to as one of Scotland's unluckiest players. He was serving in the Royal Navy when called up for his only war-time cap, against England, at Wembley in October 1942. In that game the 21-year old did what few Scottish pivots had managed, he out-played his immediate opponent, the great Tommy Lawton, preventing him from scoring in a 0-0 draw. However, between naval service and a series of injuries after the war, Corbett, playing in a struggling Celtic team, never became the player he was expected to be after such an auspicious debut.

Joe Crozier, is up there in the ranks of Scottish goalkeepers who suffered at the hands of free-scoring English teams. His three war-time internationals in 1943 and 1944 saw him concede: eight, six and three goals to an English team at the top of their form. He was the goalkeeper in the “interregnum between Jerry Dawson's last cap and Bobby Brown's first. In spite of his horrific time as Scottish back-stop Crozier is still widely considered to have been Brentford's best-ever goalkeeper.

Blackpool Centre forward Jock Dodds (pictured below) is, for me, the unluckiest player ever to pull on a Scotland shirt. He did this ten times between 1939 and 1946, scoring ten goals. What we would give today for a man able to average a goal a game at international level. His goals included a hat-trick in a 5-4 Hampden win over the Auld Enemy in 1942, when our other goal-scorers were Billy Liddell and Willie Shankly. Ten games, ten goals – no caps, “Shurely shome mishtake.”

 

St Mirren legend Johnny Deakin won three war-time caps; research by brilliant Scottish Sports Historian Andy Mitchell indicates, the third of these games, against Belgium in 1946 should be re-classified as a full international and caps awarded. However, Deakin's name is absent from the list of full Scotland caps in the “bible” of football reference books – The Utitlita Football Yearbook. However, for the purposes of this article, there are still his other two matches, in 1943 and 1945 to consider.

When you see the name Fagan and the Liverpool club paired together, you immediately think of Joe, a member of Shankly's Boot Room Team and a future club manager, however Scot Willie Fagan served the Reds well and won one war-time cap, against England, at Villa Park, in February, 1945.

I am told the RAF did a lot of training around the Blackpool area during the war and this was a factor in the local football team enjoying a successful spell at this time, as they had the use of a lot of top-flight guest players.

Bobby Finan, however, was a club regular, having signed from Yoker Athletic in 1937, eventually playing over 200 games for the Seasiders. His only international appearance, however, came in the very first War-time match, a 1-2 loss to England, at Newcastle on Tyne, in December, 1939.

Jim Harley is not a name which is mentioned when a roll-call of Liverpool's Scottish Greats is made. But, the Fifer spent 15 years at Anfield and played alongside the likes of Billy Liddell and Bob Paisley in their English League Championship-winning team of 1946-47, and behind Matt Busby in pre-war years.

He was behind Busby in his two war-time internationals, at Villa Park and Hampden in 1945. Sadly for him, Scotland lost both games.

The second of Harley's two caps was a hefty 1-6 loss to England, at Hampden, on 14 April, 1945, a match which was notable for the appearance of two players identified as J Harris, in the Scotland ranks. The first was centre-half John Harris of Wolverhampton Wanderers – although he may when capped have been playin g as a guest for Chelsea. He later signed full-time at Stamford Bridge, became Club Captain and was a member of their English League-winning team in 1955. His final football connection was as manager of Sheffield United. The Hampden defeat was this John Harris's only cap.

The other J Harris on-duty that day was JR “Tony” Harris, a Queen's Park player at the time. A dental student, he volunteered to serve in WWII, but, with a shortage of dentists, he was sent back to university to complete his degree. From Queen's Park he went to Aberdeen, playing in their Cup-winning team of 1947 and in the side which lost the 1953 final to Rangers, before ending his playing career with Airdrie. The Hampden match, in which from 1-1 at half-time, England scored five unanswered second half goals, was his only cap.

The next name on my uncapped list is a famous one. Alec Herd was a well-known member of the successful and Scots-loaded Manchester City teams of the 1930s. In 15 seasons with City, he played over 300 games and was in their team which famously lost the 1933 FA Cup Final to Everton, before returning to beat Portsmouth the following season.

His solitary war-time international was the famous 5-4 win over England, at Hampden, on 18 April, 1942. His son David, as an Arsenal player, won five caps for Scotland between 1959 and 1961, before his Dad's old team mate, Matt Busby, signed him for Manchester United, where he played in their 1963 FA Cup-winning team and in two title-winning teams. Although he did not play in the final, David was a member of United's 1968 European Cup-winning squad.

Larkhall is well-known as a Rangers town, with a long list of residents who have played for the club. Charlie Johnston doesn't really feature in those lists, because his 200-plus games for the club came during the Second World War and therefore, don't really count. His only war-time cap came in January, 1943, a 0-3 Wembley defeat. He had previously played for Motherwell, among some other clubs and, after Rangers, he wound-down his career with a succesful spell with Queen of the South.

Sammy Kean is a Hibernian legend, as a player, title-winner (one of the unknown six who back-stopped The Famous Five) and as a trainer. He later assisted Bob Shankly at Dundee and also served
Falkirk and Partick Thistle. His solitary war-time cap came in a 0-4 Hampden loss to England, in April, 1943.

Just as Kean is a Hibs; Legend, then the next uncapped “one-cap wonder” is a legend at his club. That man is Willie Kilmarnock, in many Motherwell supporters' eyes their greatest-ever captain and one-third of the legendary Paton, Kilmarnock and Shaw defensive trio. Full-back Willie received his solitary international call for the 2-6 loss at Wembley in February, 1944.

That same game added the name of Stoke City's Jock Kirton to the long list of one-cap wonders. An Aberdonian, he spent 16 seasons with Stoke and was club captain after Neil Franklin committed career suicide by going off to South America. One of the many Scottish journeymen who were so-influential in English football.

Jimmy Kirk was a member of Clyde's Scottish Cup-winning side of 1939 and a year later, he received his only war-time international call, for the game against the Republic of Ireland, on 28 April, 1940.

Dr Adam Little was a prime example of Bill Struth's liking for having educated “University Men” in the Rangers' ranks. A Rutherglen boy, Adam was signed by the Ibrox club while still a 17 year-old schoolboy, in 1936. He studied medicine at Glasgow University, however, the war played havoc with his career and, serving in the Royal Army Medical Corps, he guested for Rangers' old friends Arsenal.

His only Scotland call came in the notorious 0-8 loss to England, at Maine Road, Manchester. After the war, he played only six games for Rangers, before running down his career with Morton.

Willie Lyon's name is often quoted when Celtic supporters claim institutional bias against their players. He was an inspirational Captain of the club in the 1930s, leading them to Empire Exhibition glory in 1938, However, two Scottish League caps that same season was as close as he came to international honour. Willie is pictured below:

 

 However, he did get the call, for the Dublin match against the Republic of Ireland, in April, 1940. He served in the Scots Guards, winning the Military Cross for his gallantry in the North African/Sicilian campaign. However, a serious leg wound in the Normandy campaign of 1944 ended his football career.

Duncan McClure of Hearts is the next name on the war-time one-cap wonders list. His appearance coming in a 1-1 Hampden draw, on 11 May, 1940. He spent over 30 years with the Gorgie club; 300 games as a player, then as coach and scout and he is credited with bringing the great Alex Young to the club.

Malky Macdonald is a legend for his long service to Celtic, before going on to have a successful career in managememnt, with the likes of Brentford and Kilmarnock. He also had a short spell in the Scotland hot seat following John Prentice's fall-out with the SFA blazers. However, amazingly, his three war-time caps, between 1941 and 1944 are as close as he came to being a playing internationalist.

Peter “Ma Ba” McKennan is a Partick Thistle legend. However, he is, like another Jags legend, Chic Charnley, an example of how Scottish Football, and particular its High Heid Yins mistrust players who march to a different drum. Mc Kennan may have been the heart beat of his club for years, but, his only recognition from the selectors came in April, 1940, when he played in the game in Dublin against the Republic of Ireland.

As far as I have been able to discover, Jim McPhie (I have also seen his name spelled McPhee) is not in the Falkirk Hall of Fame. I would suggest he ought to be. He joined the Bairns in 1936 and was with them as a player until 1953. He was the club's regular right back until succeeded by the great Alex Parker.

He then joined the club's coaching staff and was Caretaker Manager for a seven-game spell between the departure for Dundee of Bob Shankkly and the appointment of Reg Smith.

During the war, when his military service took him south, he guested for Preston North End and Reading. He made a single appearance for the Scottish League, in a 1-1 draw with the English League, in Newcastle in 1948, but his only appearance for Scotland was in a 2-0 win over Wales in a Victory International, at Hampden, in November, 1945.

Frank Mennie was a Kilmarnock player, but, like the rest of the team, on active servicer, when he won his two war-time caps, in the games against Belgium and Flanders, in January, 1945. These were strange games, taking the players, all of whom were in uniform, quite close to what was then the front line.

A Coatbridge boy, he was probably one Celtic missed. He played for Queen's Park for three seasons, before joining Killie. After the war he joined Clyde, with whom he won a Scottish League cap in 1949 – and was unfairly criticised by members of the Lap-Top Loyal, for getting a hard time from Tom Finney, Stan Mortenson and Wilf Mannion, with occasional help from Jackie Milburn, as England won 3-0.

Brechin “Loon” Arthur Milne perhaps played his best football for Dundee United in the late 1920s, when he was a regular goal scorer. However, it was as a Hibs player that he won his only war-time cap, scoring one of Scotland's goals in a 2-6 Wembley defeat in October, 1944.

He had served Dundee United and Aberdeen as a guest during the hostilities but peace-time found him briefly back at Hibs, before he spent four seasons with St Mirren, prior to winding down his career as player-coach with Coleraine in the Irish League.

In two spells spanning 23 years at Palmerston, Jackie Oakes played over 450 games for Queen of the South, where he is properly a Club Legend. He had gone straight from school to Wolverhampton Wanderers, but he failed to play a first team game and came back up the road to sign for the Doonhamers in 1937.

He was with them, but in the Forces, when he made his solitary war-time international appearance, in the win over Belgium, in Brussels in January, 1945. Post-war he again tried English football, with Blackburn Rovers then Manchester City, before returning to Dumfries and extending his career into the 1960s.

Glaswegian Henry Pinkerton went south as a youngster, but failed to establish himself with Hull City, Port Vale then Burnley. Things improved when he came back home to join Falkirk, and it was as a Bairn that he won his solitary war-time inteernational honour, in the first war-time international, in Newcastle, in December, 1939.

His final football destination in the UK, post-war, was with Bo'ness United, after which he went off to coach in Canada.

Jimmy Stenhouse was a right-half or inside-right – central midfielder today – with St Mirren, when he won his solitary war-time cap, in the 2-6 loss to England, at Wembley in February, 1944.

A Kelty boy, he had joined the Buddies from Lochgelly Violet, helping the Paisley side win the Summer Cup in 1943. After the war, he joined Aberdeen, he then served Kettering Town, Ross County, as player-manager, Ayr United, Corby Town and Stamford.

Bob Thyne is something of a legend around Kilmarnock. He played for the club with distinction and later joined the Board of Directors and was Chairman, also serving on the Scottish League management committee. However, it was as a Darlington player that he won his solitary war-time honour, at centre-half in the team which lost 2-3 to England, at Villa Park, in February, 1945.

 

Edward “Ned” Weir (pictured above) is a definite football oddity. He was born in Ireland but raised and mostly lived in Scotland. In the schism which saw the football clubs in the newly-established Republic set up their own Football Association, Weir, who had already played for the Belfast-based Northern Ireland FA, also played for the new FA of Ireland before, on 28 April, 1940, the Clyde player won his solitary Scotland war-time cap in the game against the Republic of Ireland, in Dublin. This made him one of the few plaeyrs to play internationally for three different nations.

Forget Duhan van der Merwe and the other “Springjocks” of the current Scotland Rugby Union team. Scottish football teams got their first, with most people thinking of big John Hewie in the 1950s.

However, South African-born Dougie Wallace made three appearances for Scotland in war-time internationals. He was then with Clyde, after Manager Pat Travers, having been impressed by his play while on tour in South Africa with Aberdeen, invited him to join Clyde.

He scored in Clyde's Scottish Cup final win in 1939 before going on to win those three war-time internationals. However, after he reacted angrily to being fouled byh England's Stan Cullis, he “did a Vinnie Jones” on the Wolves man and was told by the SFA, he would never be picked again.

After the war he played for Dunfermline Athletic, then Albion Rovers, before joining Llanelly where, as player-manager, he persuaded Jock Stein to sign for the Welsh side.

His son Gordon was also a footballer, with Liverpool and Crewe Alexandria, he scored two goals in the first-ever Match of the Day programme.

Stan Williams holds an honoured place in Aberdeen football folklore, as the man who scored their winning goal in the 1947 Scottish Cup Final. However, it was as a guest player with Clyde that the Cape Town native won his only war-time “cap”, in the 0-2 Wembley loss in October, 1941.

He left Aberdeen in 1949 and ran down his career with Plymouth Argyle, then Dundee, before he returned to South Africa, where he died in Johannesburg.

These then are the men who wore a Scotland strip in war-time, often playing in front of huge Hampden and Wembley crowds, lifting spirits and, for a time, taking the watching fans' minds away from the deprivations they were suffering. However, they never got that precious cap for their efforts.

Surely, this upcoming 80^th anniversary of VE-Day offers the SFA a chance to right that wrong. After all, if they can cap the players on the 1967 World Tour, purely so that Sir Alex Ferguson could get a cap for his 80^th birthday, then surely they can honour the legends denied a cap by the war.

 

Socrates Courts Controversy - Again

I WAS BORN and raised in mining villages in East Ayrshire – or God's Orange County as some call it. Our family was always a wee bit different, since my old man was one of the handful of openly Tory voters locally, he wan't in the Masons or the Orange Lodge. I think it has something to do with the way neuro-divergence appears to run in our family.

We might be “different”, but, it's hard to avoid being to some degree tainted by what goes on locally. For instance, I still maintain, if my old school – Cumnock Academy – did have a school song, it would be: 'The Sash My Father Wore', and when I used to cover the local Community Council for the local paper, I was well-aware of how influential the High Heid Yins of the local LOL were in its running.

Nothing against these gentlemen, who put a lot of time and effort into making things better for the local community and one particular Stout Orange Blade was, for instance, particularly active in the fight to keep a threatened local Roman Catholic school open, but, I lang syne came to the conclusion, the LOL is one of the greatest con tricks ever pulled off by England/Britain's “Deep Establishment”.

When not c elebrating King Billy's campaign in Ireland in 1690, the stout Orange Blades bellow God Save the King loudly at every opportunity. They delight in taking-over our public thoroughfares during each annual “Marching Season”. Ok, they've got a catchy play list, the Walks are the closest some of them come to taking exercise, they're doing their bit in keeping our Roman Catholic population in what they see as their place, but, really, they are still fighting a battle which, even if it has been won, has little or no relevance in 21^st cdentury Scotland.

The thing is – if they looked-up, at say the Egnlish middle and upper classes, as often as they look down on their Roman Catholic neighbours, they would maybe realise, who are the ones being conned. For instance, for all their declarations of support for the Royal Family and their loyalty to the Crown and the Proterstant religion – has HM the King, or indeed any member of his extended family, ever been seen on the platform at the conclusion of one of their many Walks during the marching season? And, how often do we see many Orange Order members inside our increasingly empty churches?

Turning up at Ibrox of a Saturday to go through the Party Songs isn't the same as attending the Kirk on a Sunday, not by a long chalk.

The Hidden Establishment does rather well out of this unequal and dis-United Kingdom, and organisations such as the LOL help them keep it that way.

Of course, if the LOL is Ying, there has to be a balancing Yang and perhaps the most-visible body on the opposite side of the divide is The Celtic Family, and in particular that body's “Shock Troops” - The Green Brigade.

We all know Brother Walfrid started Celtic as a means of aleviating the many disadvantages being undergone by the community in the East End of Glasgow, many of them first and second generation Irish immigrants. Their descendants remain at the heart of The Celtic Family.

It is true that the people who run Celtic have always done their bit for charity, in keeping with the aims of the founding fathers. However, it is also true that over the years, between the derided Four Families and the current Dublin-based High Heid Yins, the early charitable aims of the club have been to a degree by-passed.

OK, they do some things which are not universally popular, but, for all their faults and follies, I believe the Green Brigade is – in its over-riding ethos – closer to Brother Walfrid and the pioneers of the club than the blazers in the board room.

Celtic was formed partly to give a voice to those whose own voice was not being heard, in their support for the likes of the beleagured Pastelinians, the Green Brigade are maintaining that early tradition. Rather than denigrating them, we ought to be praising them.

It goes without saying, tilting at windmills and fighting entrenched interests does not go down well with the powers-that-be in any sport; particularly with such a centrally-corrupt organisation as UEFA. For that reason, that entirely-reasonable banner the lads came up with on Wednesday night will certainly not be well-received by the suits at UEFA HQ in Switzerland.

Indeed, I coula almost hear Dermott Desmond. Pre-match, asking two of his apparatchiks, let's call them Sean and Liam: “OK lads, what sort of bother have the Green Brigade got us into tonight”? - and not being too-happy with the reply.

You might not like some of the stunts the GB pull. For instance, it is suggested that some of them have a liking for pyrotechnics at matches. Others are big on promoting the Celtic versions of some of the songs which fell foul of the flawed and discredited Offensive Behaviour At Football legislation; while chanting about him, his father and his dead grandmother in front of the Prince of Wales, at Villa Park, although I suspect some of the Celtic Family, not in the GB may have helped there – well, that kind of misbehaviour does not win you friends and influence people.

But, they're mainly young and impressionable. Of course, at times they go too far, but, when they support causes such as Palestine – and tell the truth about two-faced Scottish tory leaders – I have a sneaking respect for the Green Brigade.

I love the notion of sticking-up two fingers to th Hidden Establishment and the Unco Guid.

A Wander Through The Windmills Of My Mind

BEING ON THE SPECTRUM and having “a dustbin brain” - ridiculous facts lie there until retrieved at random – I tend to remember seemingly useless nuggest of information. One such nugget, gleaned from a 1970s sporets documentary, has it that Brazilian football tactics are based on the rhythm of the Samba. The men in canary yellow build slowly from the back, but, the closer they get to the opposition goal, the faster becomes the beat and the passing, reaching a crescendo as they shoot.

Ok, that used to be the case, sadly, since that terrible day those Germans took them apart, the Brazilians have been, by their standards, pretty dire; however, like all football romantics, I yearn for a return to greatness from them; and hope they don't have to wait as long as we Scots for the next golden age.

At least, when the Brazilians were very-good, they tended to move forward up the park, today, most of the top sides seem to take three passes forward, two to the side, then two back, before repeating, ad nauseum. Such negativity would get fitba stopped.

In fact, the modern fashion for “Possession Football”, where, rather than winning, the desire appears to be to not lose, it leaves me rather cold. I can barely watch Manchester City or several other of the current major sides play their seemingly interminable spells of Keepball. Although, I still feel the free-flowing Spirit of Shankly is clinging-on at Anfield and up the East Lancs Road in the Theatre of Dreams.

Speaking of the current crop at Old Trafford, I find I get more enjoyment from watching poor teams; you know you are going to see mistakes, and therefore goals. Thus, I was looking forward to Monday night's live Scottish Gas Scottish Cup clash between St Mirren and Hearts. Two bad teams, therefore, the prospect of some goalmouth action and goals.

I spent the best part of an enjoyable decade covering The Buddies for the wonderful Paisley Daily Express – happy Love Street days. That Love Street pitch was a joy for the teams to play on, something which could not be said about the surface at the new stadium, certainly the way the ball bobbled around on Monday.

Mind you, some of the greatest names in Scottish fitba wove magical patterns on surfaces which were Somme-like mudbaths in the depths of winter, and hard Belgian pavė in better weather – the technical competence of the players on view on Monday was way down.

Even old dinosaurs like me have to accept, today's professionals are more athletes than footballers, but, I maintain, the game is poorer for this. We are told: “The likes of Jim Baxter and Jinky Johnstone wouldn't get a game today” - more fool today's coaches etc, we'd get more entertainment in five minutes of Baxter being Baxter and Jinky doing Jinky things than we got in over two hours on Monday night.

Speaking of individual brilliance. I noticed St Mirren Legend Stevie Clarke in the stand at the game and for a while I was wondering if his thoughts had gone to: “Is Angus Gunn match-fit and back playing, because big Craig looks as if he has gone,” Certainly, Mr Gordon looked for a long time, anything but the great goalkeeper we know him to be.

Then came the penalty shoot-out and another demonstration of that old chestnut: “Form is transient - class permanent” as he produced two stunning saves, the first particularly brilliant, to set Hearts on-course for the quarter-finals.

However, my big take-away from this particular Scottish Cup tie was: is it time to either amend Extra Time, or dispense with the additional period and go straight to penalties?

In my sepia-tinted youth extra time and replays were the order of the day in knock-out competitions. My own wee team, Lugar Boswell Thistle's unforgettable run to the 1956 Scottish Junior Cup Final included second replays to get past both Beith and Thorniewood United, with those third games generating crowds which even Championship senior clubs of today would kill for.

Some 70 years on, the calendar is too-crowded for such niceties, far less the legendary story of the West of Scotland Cup final which, having been drawn on the very last day of the season on which play would be allowed – had to be replayed, that evening, after a two-hour interval.

Today, we still allow Extra Time, then, it's straight to penalties. Unfortunately, what we tend to see, and certainly did on Monday night, is, with the sides still level after the first period of Extra Time, both going into their shell, afraid to risk a win other than by the lottery of penalties.

OK, if we have decided, knock-out ties have to be completed in one game, then let's be inventive; try to find a Football equivalent of Tennis's tie break, without the added psychological pressure of the Penalty Shoot-Out.

What I would do is:

• Cut Extra Time from two x 15 minute periods, to two x 10 minute ones

• Make the first period a “Silver Goal” period – if one side gets one goal up in that period, game over, they've won.

• If, however, the sides are still level after the first 10 minutes, we go in the second 10 minute period to a “Golden Goal” - the first team to score wins

• If the sides are still level after the two x 10 minute periods, then go to penalty kicks.

I think this might eliminate the fear of failure retreat into their shell play which we witnessed on Monday night, forcing the teams to go for vicgtory more. For added jeopardy, we could even introduce random factors. How about, in Extra Time, after every goalless minute, numbers are drawn and (goalkeepers excepted) a random player from each side is withdrawn, thereby creating additional space on the park. After all, Football is now part of the Entertainment Business, so, let's entertain.

Oh Dear! Never Mind!

I HAD MY Rugby Union head on on Sunday. More fool me, I had convinced myself that, this year, at long last, we could beat Ireland, particularly with home advantage. Thus, I was a wee bit down when I learned, from the BBC News, that Rangers were trailing at home to Queen's Park.'

My immediate thought was: “If I switch channels quickly, I might catch the Rangers' penalty”, Kerrching, barely had I gturned over and there it was – given. OK, the only places in football where that award would ever be given are in the Opposition's penalty area at Ibrox and Celtic Park, and only then when the home team is losing deep into a game.

But, Justice was served when Calum Ferrie pulled off that save from James Tavernier; mind you, I was still surprised they didn't order a re-take.

So, that leaves us with the normal Monday morning game of guessing how much more the High Heid Yins at Ibrox will take, before they dispense with the services of Mr Clement, after all, Super Stevie G is in need of an other gig after losing his job in Saudi Arabia.

Might it just be that Rangers' finances are in such a dire state, they cannot afford to pay-off the Belgian and his staff, far less recruit a new management team?

Or might it be, that a run deep into the knock-out phase of the Europa League will save Clement's neck? Long odds, I know, but I can see all but the most-commited of Ra Peepul suddenly losing their desire to watch this current lot shame the jerseys, which are clearly far too heavy for some of them, from now until the summer.

At least, Liverpool losing at Plymouth saved Rangers from an even redder face on Sunday night. They ought to be thankful for small mercies.

I know this is 2025 and the game has changed, but, while my immediate thoughts on The Spiders' win were with one of my old Editors, Logan Taylor – a long time Hampden regular, or former Evening Times Sports Editor, David Stirling, whose commitment to the club included a spell on the committee and a time as Programme Editor. Guys like that deserved this result and I can honestly say, the most-civilised time I ever spent covering was football was reporting on a couple of home Queen's Park games – their followers, such as former top referee and SRU President Allan Hosie – set a really high bar for how to behave and support your team – I was a wee bit sad at the outcome.

Because, the two biggest Queen's Park heroes on the day: goal-scorer Seb Drozd and heroic goalkeeper Captain Calum Ferrie – despite that name - are both English. Nothing against either player, that's what Scottish football has become, a refuge for non-Scots who are not considered good enough for their own domestic leagues.

Here, off the top of my head is a team of former Queen's Parkers, who went on into the professional ranks and won full Scotland caps: Bobby Clark; Davie Holt, Andy Robertson, Ian McColl, Willie Woodburn, Bert McCann; George Herd, Simon Donnelly, Alex Ferguson, RS McColl, Alan Morton. OK, not perhaps an all-time great Scotland team, but, while I had to go back a fair way to include Bob McColl and Alan Morton, the list – and I didn't pick the likes of Jack Harkness, Ronnie Simpson, Jim Cruickshank, or any of the greats from the early days: Dr John Smith, Charles Campbell, Walter Arnott and so on, it shows, Hampden has always been a hot hatchery of talent. So it's sad to see non-Scots getting this bit of 21^st century glory.

Of course, the club was forced by circumstances to ditch its unique amateur personna, but, results such as Sunday's pull at the heart strings of us old fitba romantics.

I have written this before, and date I say it, I probably will again, but, until the SFA sorts itself out and imposes something like Chick Young's “Eight Diddies Rule” - so we are pro-actively encouraging Young Scottish talent, we will continue to be a footballing back-water.

I could even live with something akin to the North American system of Major and Minor Leagues, with the bigger clubs having franchise agreements with the smaller clubs, in the lesser leagues, to encourage young player development.

That way, for instance: Queen's Park might become an associate team to Rangers, bringing through younger players. Clyde could be doing the same job for Celtic, Spartans and Edinburgh City could be doing the same job for Hearts and Hibs; Cove Rangers for Aberdeen and Arbroath or Forfar for a combined City of Dundee team.

Weve got too-many unsustainable diddy teams playing in too-many unsustainable National leagues. Unless we change things, our game will continue to go down the stank.

We also need to level the playing field, but, we've known that for years, except the High Heid Yins, noses firmly in the feeding trough refuse to notice.

Private Frazer was right. We are all doomed. Or, to sample another classic TV sit-com, I hear these are selling well this week:

 

 

 

 

 

Contrassting European Fortunes

IF FOOTBALL is indeed “A results-driven business” why are so-many people trying to avoid admitting, Celtic got a doing at Villa Park on Wednesday night. You can come up with all the excuses under the sun, it will not alter the fact, Aston Villa won, and won well; and but for Kasper Schmeichel's heroics and a penalty miss straight out of Benny Hill, it might have been another Borussia Doetmund result for the Hoops.

OK, I get the financial disparity, to a degree; Celtic pay way over the Scottish odds to bring second and third-rate non-Scots into our pathetic wee Premier Division, while Villa pay even-further over the odds to bring second, and the odd first rate player to Birmingham. Let's face it, if your choice is Barcelona, Madrid or Milan over Birmingham or Glasgow – if you're confident you will be a first pick, it's a no-brainer, but, if you're going to be a squad player, then if youj can jemmy a better deal out of the club from either UK city – you set your agent's default position to “bleed them”.

Even back in the days when England had a maximum wage and Scotland didn't, so the Old Firm could compete in thr UK transfer market, Celtic still sold stellar talents such as Jimmy Delaney, Bobby Collins and Paddy Crerand to English clubs (ok, Crerand went just as England began to have a cash advantage) but they were still, financially, a small club, willing to sell their best assets to a high bidder. That is still the club's management model.

There are players in the current Celtic side who are – by Scottish standards, Superstars; however, in English Premeirship of European terms, they are journeymen. Celtic's greatest-ever XI comprised 11 native Scots, all born within 40 miles of Celtic Park. Last night, they had only two Scots in their starting line-up, even Villa, from the league with perhaps the highest proportion of non-natives in Europe, had five English players in their starting XI.

Celtic's whole club DNA was built on recruiting and polishing young players from “The Celtic Family” - built on the efforts of countless teachers and janitors at Roman Catholic schools, mainly in West-Central Scotland, whose goal in life was to produce at least one boy good enough to some day wear the Hoops.

But, since a Dublin-based billionaire seized control, this proud tradition has been dumped in favour of over-priced, over-paid mercenaries. The result, sure, guaranteed European football every season, but, squads lacking the quality of those Jock Stein managed.

Celtic will not win the European Cup this season, in fact, given the draw they have been handed, they are unlikely to survive the Play-Off round. Sure, they will almost certainly win the Scottish title again this season' they could even pull-off another Treble, but, as Wednesday night at Villa Park showed – this is a poor Celtic squad, playing in a really-poor domestic league, who have perhaps over-achieved in reaching the European stage they have.

I HONESTLY cannot see Rangers winning the Europa League this season, for the simple fact: the cry is no defenders every time the opposition crosses into their box. And when you consider the lineage of Rangers Central defenders, this is a potentially tenure-ending condemnation of Manager Philippe Clement.

Just consider the men who have been the bulwark of the club's defence over the past century – a defence which once merited the newspaper-awarded designation: “The Iron Curtain”.

From Davie Meiklejohn in the 1920s, via Jimmy Simpson a decade later. Simpson passed the torch on to Willie Woodburn and George Young, who in turn bequeathed the job of securing the back door to John Greig and Ronnie McKinnon.

They in turn were succeeded by Colin Jackson and Derek Johnstone, then John McClelland and Davie Macpherson. For all the changes which the

David Murray/Graeme Souness years brought, the club still stood by excellence in central defence from the likes of Terry Butcher and Richard Gough.

Twelve names there, ten of them Scotsmen, covering the best part of a century of defensive excellence. I could have named other great Scottish defenders to have played for thee club – Alan McLaren or Colin Hendrie for instance.

But today, Scottish players are an endangered species around Ibrox, although John Souttar, who returned from injury on Thursday night, is maintaining the tradition of Scottish internationalist central defendders at the club.

That jersey can weigh heavily on newcomers to the club. I can remember when Big Corky – George Young – retired in 1957, the club did not have an in-house replacement, so they did what the club had long done, and signed the then current Queen's Park pivot, John Valentine.

Received wisdom had it that Valentine had all the necessary attributes to be a Rangers' centre-half, but, it never quit worked for him and after the disaster of Hampden in the sun – Celtic's 7-1 League Cup win in 1957, he was cast forth into the reserves and shortly afterwards off-loaded to St Johnstone, a club he served with distinction.

The unfortunate Valentine was replaced by St Mirren veteran Willie Telfer, a true Bluenose from Larkhall, but he was never more than a short-term stop-gap, well thugh he filled that role.

The long-term successor was thought to be Airdrie's Doug Balllie, a big lump who had won his first Scotland Under-23 honour as a teenager. Sadly, Doug never really recovered from a serius roasting from the young John “Yogi” Hughes in his first Old Firm game. Doug never replicated his Airdrie form with Rangers, but, he did mature to be a unique and long-serving talent in th press box.

Between the short-lived Baillie time and the arrival of Greig and McKinnon, the most-regular Rangers centre-half was the unsung Bill Paterson. He made over 100 first team appearances and won four domestic medals during his four years at Ibrox, but is pretty-much forgotten today.

A Kinlochleven man, he won a Scotland B cap during his time with Doncaster Rovers, in a 1-1 draw with England in 1954. He and fellow defender Jimmy Dudley of Westy Bromwich Albion were the only members of that Scotland B team not to go on and win a full cap. He later played and coached in Canada.

Paterson;s success demonstrates, you don't have to pay big money to get a good centre-half, maybe somebody should tell that to the current Rangers' management.

What the current Europa League campaign, and the current domestic campaign has shown is – Rangers badly need a big centre-half, or perhaps the football equivalent of the American Football Defensive Co-ordinator; somebody who can sort-out the team's answer to crosses into the box, get every defender made aware of his responsibilities, and ensuring that do their job.

If they can sort out this glaring weakness, who knows, the club could yet have a good season.

The secret to having a good, winning team, is supposedly in that team having a solid spine: a good goalkeeper, a dominant centre half, a midfield play-maker and a sharp striker.

The current Rangers team is not that far-away. Getting the centre-half job sorted out would be an improvememt, it would also, I suggest, help if they could get Igamande and Dessers playing together. I have a feeling these two, if they could get on the same wavelength and sort-out who is doing what, when, could become as potent as the legendary Brand and Millar combination of the 1960s, or the perm two from three combination of Hateley, Johnston and McCoist in the 1990. . And with Vaclav Cerny as a 21^st century Davie Wilson, the Bears may dream of better to come.