Disaster For Scotland - The King Is Dead

THIS WEEK began badly, with the news of the death of my fellow Ayrshireman, legendary Scottish Rugby Union Captain Peter PC Brown. It has ended with equally sad news, with the passing of the one, the only Denis Law.

You can argue all you like about Scotland's Greeatest-Ever Player “The Tartan G.O.A.T.” but, what you cannot argue against is Denis's right to be in the conversation. He was our youngest debutant of the 20^th Century, when first capped, against Wales in 1958; he set a national record when winning his 55^th and final cap, against Zaire in 1974. He scored a record 30 international goals, a mark which still stands while individually he was the first Scot to win the Ballon D'Or in 1964. Had he been English, I am sure he would have been knighted, but as a Scot he only got a CBE from the British Establishment.

He joined Huddersfield Town as a 15-year-old from Aberdeen, a fisherman's son. He had a sight impediment, which required surgery to correct it and, aged just 16, he was in the Town first team, encouraged by the coaching of one Willie Shankly.

Some wanted him in the Scotland squad for the 1958 World Cup, but, the selectors of the time would not pick him, although, still only 18, he was in the team in the first international after those 1958 finals.

Huddersfield could not hold him, but Manchester Cioty had to pay a record transfer fee to entice him away. Perhaps his finest moment in a City shirt in that spell came when he scored seven goals in an FA Cup tie against Luton Town – six in the first game, which was abandoned, then another goal in the replayed game, which Luton won. But, City were the second team in Manchester at the time and in 1961, he was signed by Italian side Torino, alongside England centre forard Joe Baker, of Hibs.

His time in Italy was short-lived and disappointing. He and Baker were injured in a car crash, while Law relished the story of the Turin taxi driver, taking a party of Scottish football writers to a game in that city, who was disparaging about him. The taxi-man adored Baker but said: “Law, all he do is kick people.”

Football at the time was tough and the slight Law belied his lack of physique with his quicksilver speed, his instincts in the penalty area and his ability to meet fire with fire when defenders kicked him. This landed him in particular bother following Scotland's disastgrous 3-9 loss to England, at Wembley in 1961.

Law was dropped after the game, allegedly for kicking the future Sir Bobby Robson, right in front of Queen Elizabeth II, sitting in the Royal Box. Law always insisted, Robson had kicked him first.

He was soon back in the national side, where he and Jim Baxter were the outstanding talents in a golden age for the side, marked by three successive wins over England and a wonderful 6-2 win over Spain in the Bernabeau; and, of course, the day Scotland beat World Champions England, at Wembley in 1967.

Years later, interviewing Denis, I asked him aboujt that game. He said the result still annoyed him; a survivor of 1961, Law wanted to score goals that day to emphasise how good that Scottish side was, but, as he said ruefully: “I was over-ruled by Baxter and Bremnerf, who wanted to humiliate them 1-0.”

Law and Baxter were picked for the FIFA side to face England in the FA Centenary International in 1963, the year in which, back in Manchester, with United, he helped them win the FA Cup, their first trophy since the days of the fabled Busby Babes.

Law, Munich survivor Sir Bobby Charlton and a young Northern Irish genius named George Best formed The Golden Trinity during a golden era for a United team managed by Busby, capped by the European Cup win in 1968. Law was Club Captain, but injury kept him out of that game and as the years of abuse he took at the hands of uncompromising defenders took their toll, over the final half dozen years of his playing career, he was as often injured as playing.

He ran down his career back at City, sold by Tommy Docherty, memorably scoring his 303 and final club goal with a back-heeler, in a Manchester Derby – he did not celebrate.

The gap in his Scotland record was the national team's failure to qualify for the 1962, 1966 and 1970 World Cups. He was passed his peak when Scotland finally did get the non -qualifying monkey off their backs in 1974 and perhaps there was an element of a sympathy selection when Willie Ormond selected him for the opening game, against Zaire. But, at least, it meant he got to strut his stuff on the game's highest stage – it was his final match.

Law opted out of a post-playing career in coaching. He had a lengthy career as a media talking head, as well as working diligently for several charities. His daughter Diane, one of his five children had almost as long a Manchester Unitd career as her father, as a popular member of the club's Press Office team.

Another great Law story was told by Fred Eyre, once a club-mate at City. Eyre was never more than a journeyman player, before setting-up his own office equipment company and becoming a millionaire. Eyre's first order for his new company was for a load of stationery, unfortunately, he had broken a leg and was wondering how he might get the order from his van to the customer – when who would appear down the street but Denis, who readily agreed to help his old team mate out by carrying in the order.

Eyre always insisted: “When the customer saw who my van driver was, they immediately gave me a massive order for new desks and chairs and I never looked back.”

Denis fought and beat Prostate Cancer, but he could not beat Alzheimer's, he has gone now, but, to those of us fortunate enough to see him in his pomp, for club and mre-so for country, the sight of The Lawman in full cry was something to behold.

We shall not see his likes again – he was a very-special player and a very-special man.

 

Can This Patrick Stewart "Make It So"?

SIR PATRICK STEWART, in perhaps his best-known role, as Captain Jean-Luc Picard, would say: “Make it so”, as he gave an order. Maybe Mr Patrick Stewart, the Chief Executive Officer of Rangers FC wishes it was that easy for him. He perhaps thought he was getting out of a shit show, when he departed Manchester United for Glasgow, only to now finding out, if anything, the heat is greater on Clyde-side than in Salford.

I am told the cracked club crest has already been readied foruse by the subs on the Daily Rhebel and The Scottish Hun, as they make advance preparations for Friday's editions, which will carry their reports on Thursday's Old Firm clash, at Celtic Park. As things stand, fortunately for the Rangers following – or perhaps unfortunately, should the seemingly-impossible occur and they manage to win – guie few Bluenoses will be inside Celtic Park for the big game.

Recent results have left Manager Philippe Clement looking like a dead man walking and should Thursday's game go as all but the most-optimistic of Ra Peepul think it will, then Clement and his backroom team could be out of a job come the weekend.

The club's fan base are distinctly unhappy with recent results; the club's finances are not great; the squad is overloaded with costly imports who are plainly not Rangers class, while there is the distinct lack of that necessity for any successful Old Firm team – a fan on the park, driving up standards. if anything, the club is in a worse state than even during the turbulent reign of Craig Whyte.

Getting the club back to a position whereby Rangers are a viable challenge and alternative to Celtic will take something the current management team doesn't have – money; Rangers are in a mess.

Of course, the rest of us, we supporters of the “diddy teams” whose lot it is to lose regularly to the Big Two, of course, we enjoying the fact we can all laugh at Rangers. But, if Ra Peepul decide to stay at home, then our own clubs' finances suffer as fewer Rangers fans follow-follow an unfolding disaster.

I HAVE SURVIVED 65 years of mainly suffering in the cause of supporting Kilmarnock Football Club. Along the way there have been the occasional good times – 1965 for instance, but, generally it has been a hard slog.

Right now, I am worried for the club, because they are picking-up red cards at a rate unknown in Ayrshire since the hey day of Bobby McCulloch and Ian “Stinker” Dick. Having seen some of these dismissals on television, I am convinced, Kilmarnock is not a dirty team, but, quite clearly, somebody connected with the club has upset the refereeing establishment, since the majority of the red cards I have seen were difficult if not impossible to justify.

There is, to my mind, clearly something far wrong with Scottish officiating and it's time it was rectified.

THE BIG NEWS from the release of the 2025 New Year's Honours List was the Knighthood awarded to former England Manager Gareth Southgate. OK, it was a reward for failure, since he failed to win either the European Championship or the World Cup, as England boss. But, given the Prime Ministers England (and by association us) have had this century, he's perhaps been the best leader England has had.

If nothing else, he got his teams that bit deeper into the big competitions before they inevitably met a half-decent team and got beaten. He's made the English feel better about themselves, so, perhaps he deserves his gong – since managing English footballing expectations is a mission which even Tom Cruise would turn down as Impossible.

A belated MBE for Alan Hansen andf an upgrade to OBE for David Moyes were the Scottish football highlights, but, I do feel, either Stevie Clarke or Andy Robertson might have cause to feel slighted.

THIS IS my final post for 2024. Not, in truth, a great year. I find Scottish Football in general to be in a bad place, with too-many sub-standard foreign imports stifling opportunity for Scottish players, and clubs seemingly afraid to try to play entertaining football.

I feel the game's rulers need to take a serious look at themselves and the state of the game they are supposed to be running, but, unfortunately, they appear to lack the necessary self-awareness and desire to make things better. Maybe we need a Jean-Luc Picard to make it so.

Anyway, I wish you all the very best in 2025 – see you after the bells.

A Fresh Take On The State Of Hampden

BACK IN THE DAYS of The Soviet Union there were roads in Moscow reserved for members of the Politbureau and their Apparatchiks – it wouldn't do that they should ever encounter the hoi-polpoi as they went about their important state business.

The same sort of apartheid has long existed within Scottish Fitba, where the High Heid Yins and their Hingers-Oan are accustomed to a level of comfort and catering denied the ordinary Terracing Tams, who are the berdrock of the game here. And don't get me started on the attitudes and antics of The A Team, those back page by-lined fitba writers who only cover the Old Firm and the National Team.

If I was still permitted to mention his name, I would say their arrival at a ground other than the three big Glasgow stadia is reminiscent of that great R*lf H#rris number 'The Ladies of the Harem of the Court of King Caractucus'.

Our club officials and the business-men they con, sorry persuade, into sponsoring their teams are as divorced from reality as those long-deid Soviet-era leaders. It'ds a case of anything will do for the ordinary fans, and the cheaper the cost to the clubs, the better.

I often feel, when it comes to the ordinary fans, who subsidise Scottish Fitba, the “Blazers” have the same opinion as Sheriff Bart and the Waco Kid had around the citizens of Rock Ridge - “The common people of the clay – Morons.”

I am under no illusions as to how much it would cost to bring Hampden up to standard. It was a slum when it was re-developed, 30 years ago now. It is again a slum today. The game in Scotland has never had the money to even keep up with the necessary ongoing upkeep, far less the mega-sum it would take to undo the damage of that cheap rebuild and bring the Old Lady into the 21^st century.

To do up Hampden properly, to make it a National stadium the nation could be proud of, would need a political will which we will never see until we are once again an Independent Nation, and, at 77, I know only too well, I will never see this.

But, Hampden got a reality check at the weekend, when the Scottish Rugby Union, in the guise of Glasgow Warriors, rented the ground for the first leg of the annual 1872 Cup clash with Edinburgh. This was a bit of a gamble for Managing Director Al Kellock, Head of Commercial Glen Tippet and the Warriors' management team, but, they pulled-in a crowd of nearly 28,000 – four times the capacity of their normal home, Scotstoun Stadium.

The Weegie rugby fans enjoyed their day, a thumping 33-14 win for Warriors. In football terms, this equates to a 5-2 win for the home team, However, if the forum on Scotland's leading rugby media outlet – The Offside Line – is any guide, the Rugger Buggers were not enamoured of Hampden's charms.

It used to be said of Hampden that the way the wind blew around the vast open bowl of the old 150,000 capacity ground, created “The Hampden Swirl”, a phenomenon which was understood to occasionally catch-out goalkeepers, particularly at the King's Park or Celtic end.

The Swirl seemed to die away after the rebuild, I certainly haven't seen it quoted for years, or maybe today's fitba scribes don't know their history. Anyway it was back in evidence on Sunday, with the box-kicking scrum-halves finding it difficult to kick consistently.

But, many of the fans, not regular visitors to Hampden, commented on how the wind seemed to blow around the bowl, and they found Hampden a less-welcoming environment in which to spectate, when compared to their own Murrayfield ground across in Edin burgh.

They were also less than enamoured with the catering facilities at Hampden. There are regularly a lot of complaints about the Murrayfield Spectator Experience, but, it appears, Hampden is seen as being even worse.

It might be that the Rugger Buggers are indeed a bit more middle class than the Football Crowd. Perhaps they have higher expectations, Certainly they appear more-likely to complain when they feel they are not getting value for money. Might it even be, years of being treated like shite by Fitba's High Heid Yins has reinforced that in-bred Scottish stoicism, perhaps best illustrated by George Macdonald Fraser's great line (from The General Danced At Dawn): “The Jocks would follow their Ruperts (Anglo-Scottish officers) anywhere – usually from a morbid curiousity as to what type of mess they'd led them into this time.”

Whatever the reason – The Hampden Experience was not rated all that highly by the Rugby Crowd. Perhaps that is food for thought along the Sixth Floor Corridor, or, as ever, is that a part of Scotland wherein reality is never admitted?

 

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

OK – I DON'T suppose it would take the wit and wisdom of a great defence lawyer, such as the fictional Perry Mason or the wonderful Alan Shore of Boston Legal's Crane, Poole and Schmidt to get them off; so, charging the respective clubs with replaying the War which followed “The Glorious Revolutioon” of 1689 would be beyond even those masters of useless, expensive and time-wasting Court time, the SNP-led Scottish Government.

The High Heid Yins of Rangers and Celtic are not to blame for Bigotry and Sectarianism in Scotland, it's a bit more widely ingrained than in their fan base, but, it suits “The Suits” to ignore “Scotland's Not-So Secret Shame” - the bile and invective and rake-in the cash at the turnstiles and the club shops.

The late, great Ian Archer got the Rangers support in one, 50 years ago now. They may have calmed down a bit in the intervening years, but, The Bears' ability to shite in the streets of Glasgow, if not in thr woods, was again demonstrated on Sunday.

On the other side of the coin, Celtic's Green Brigade have their moments when you realise, there is intelligent thought there, but, at other times, they can match any degree of silliness across the city. I get the distinct impression, neither club has a Scooby what they should do about these young and ultra-commited fans.

Now, I may be wrong in blaming these twa cheeks o' the same erse for causing Sunday's shite-show in the city centre, but, the fact the loonies seen running wild were all dressed alike, does indicate a degree of fore-thought – laced with an incredulous: “What were they thinking” - other than “We're untouchable.”

I missed most of the match, due to a family commitment, switching-on in time to see time added-on, the half hour of official Extra Time and the penalty shoot-out. Now, we all know this is a flawed Rangers team which still needs work. But, given how his team eventually won, I feel Mr Desmond should be having a word with his underlings – he is clearly not getting value for money for the millions of Euros he has invested in his squad.

The irony, of course, is that the mainly-Scottish followers who yearn to be Irish, have more Scots to support than the mainly Scottish follow-followers who yearn to be English have, just another part of the madness of this fixture.

Of course, the use of pyrotechnics was again pounced upon by the remnants of our mainstream media, a branch of Scottish life which, like the decision-makers within football governance, is quite happy to wring their hands and moan about Old Firm misbehaviour – just don't expect them to do anything concrete about it.

Sectarianism and Bigotry is not “Scotland's Secret Shame” - because it hasn't been a secret for at least my life-time, if not a lot longer. Scottish Football's Secret Shame is the fact, these two clubs are out of control, just as they have been for more than the last 100 years, and Scottish Football is not prepared to bring them to heel.

When you see the Green Brigade or the Union Bears putting-on one of their orchestrated displays before and during games, you have to accept, it's all being done with some degree of acknowledgement from the clubs – so there has to be, even via the back-door, some sort of conversation between fans group and club. Well then, make the clubs responsible for the behaviour of their fans.

It's the same with doling-out away tickets, you are never going to get all the Old Firm season ticket holders, or official supporters club members into any other other ten Premiership grounds; so a system has to be in-place to get the smaller allocation of tickets distributed.

The clubs have to know, which fans group has which tickets, so, if ther are problems of bad behaviour, then it will not require the deductive powers of an Inspector Morse or Lieutenant Columbo to find out which particular fans group or supporters club, the neds belong to – deny that group tickets until behaviour improves and the bad apples are removed, and, in time, the problem goes away.

All it would take is the will to do it. I knew there would be a problem.

As for the game itself. Apart from the bit I watched live, and the goal flashes seen on the TV News, I didn't see enough to give a full critique. In Extra Time, both sides were playing not to make a mistake and hoping to win it on penalties. Nothing I saw changed my view, these are two not very good Old Firm teams, playing some poor football.

Eight of the nine penalties were well-struck; the badly-hit one was saved. But, as a young goalkeeper, I studied my part in penalties and had a pretty-good record of saving them, albeit at a far-lower level than a national cup final.

Watching the penalties on Sunday, I knew, even before the kick was taken, where the ball was going. If I could work that out, why did Jack Butland in particular guess wrong so often? Doesn't he, or his club, do due diligence on possible penalty takers, the information is out there?

Both teams would also, I feel, benefit from ditching the badge-kissing imports and giving a chance to native talent. Celtic have, at the moment, the “Fans on the Park” who dig that bit deeper. With John Souttar absent, Rangers are missing such an animal and they will win nothing until they get some back in the team on a regular basis.

Of course, that same advice about badge-kissers also holds good for the rest of our top-flight teams.

 

Socrates' Thursday night TV Review

IN THE BYGONE Days of Yore, so beloved of the Ibrox faithful, if you worked in Journalism at the creative end, 'Fleet Street' was your goal. If you had the ability and drive to get there, the world was your lobster. Back then, many of the top operators along the Street of Shame were displaced Scots, bringing the benefits of the exceptional Scottish education system to bear in educating and informing the natives and the world.

In the “Comic” section of the newspapers, the sports pages at the back, Scottish voices there were, but, the English writers, more-so when, as regularly happened for the first century of organised Football, Scotland were beating England, there arose the cult of the English getting their excuses in early.

Football, like most of the world, has changed, but, last after night's “Battle of Britain” between Rangers and Tottenham Hotspur showed one eternal fact, when the English team fails to win such an encounter – the English Press always has their excuses ready.

In reality, a meeting of the fifth-best team from a city state of 9 million people, currently sitting eleventh in a league with a value of £8 billion and the second-best team in a national league with a value of just over £300 million should only end one way.

Restrict your comparison to the two clubs involved and the difference is just as stark: Tottenham is valued at £2.6 billion, Rangers at £150 million. The result ought to be a comfortable win for the English side.

But, football is played on a pitch, not a balance sheet and, on the night, Rangtrs were the better side, who really ought to have won. However, as this blog has been pointing-out for ages, this is not a good Rangers squad. There are players wearing the famous jersey who are not Rangers class.

And, for all their huge transfer fees and the mega salaries they pick-up as players in the English Premiership, there were players on-show on Thursday night who are simply not Tottenham Class. There weren't Greaves, Blanchflower, Mackay, White, Hoddle, Ardiles or Bale-like figures in white on that pitch.

Those who were there, escaped with a draw and should be grateful; the best performance from a Spurs man on the night came from Glenn Hoddle, who, alongside the equally-excellent Ally McCoist, delivered a master-class in the art of the television colour commentator – they, alongside match caller Darren Fletcher, added to the entertainment value of the night.

The entire TNT team did well, a word too for Peter Crouch and Alan Hutton on the less-glamarous pitch-side gig.

I have thought this season, Rangers have played a lot better in Europe, where there is less expectation on them; they do not seem to be as tense as in domestic games, where there is pressure to keep winning and keep pressurising the other lot. But, they have set their benchmark this week, and they've got less than 72 hours in which to recover and redirect their focus on beating that other lot in the Premier Sports League Cup Final, at Hampden, on Sunday afternoon.

It's a big ask. However, while Celtic has 48 more hours of recovery time, on the evidence of the two European games this week, maybe Rangers are in a slightly-better place going into Sunday.

Which side settles first could prove crucial, but, it is already building-up to be yet another Old Firm Classic.

However, to return to Thursday Night. Last time these clubs crossed swords in Europe, back 60 years and 1 day ago, the football landscape was a lot different:

• All 22 players on the pitch were British

• Rangers fielded an all-Scottish line-up

• Tottenham fielded: five Englishmen, three Scots, two Welshmen and one Northern Irishman

On Thursday night, in a “Battle of Britain”, British players were in the minority, but it was still an old-fashioned “British” cup tie, more blood and thunder than guile and silky passing – and all the more-enjoyable for that. It was also, it has to be said, very-well managed by a referee and his team who had a great feel for the game on the night – the actions of the third team on the park is often overlooked in a general review of a match and Referee Sandro Scharär and his Swiss team on Thursday were excellent.

Just one thing, and it's a pet hate of mine about modern football. I bet there were more back passes in one half on Thursday night than in the two legged tie back in 1962. It does my head in to see a team, some 30 yards from the opposition goal, suddenly turn round and play the ball back to their own goalkeeper in an attempt to draw-out the opposition and create space.

If it was up to me, Football would join Basketball and insist, once you cross half-way with the ball, you cannot play it back into your own half. Such a law change would encourage individual skill, beating an opponent, and attacking play. But, I don't expect FIBA – the law-making body of FIFA, to advocate this change anytime soon.

If you want to know how well Rangers did on Thursday, by the way, reflect on this – The Online Guradian is not allowing btl comments on their report, always a sign of a bad night at the office for an English side against one of the Celtic Cousins.

IN CASE you thought I forgot, there was another Scottish club in European action on Thursday, with Hearts losing in Copenhagen in the Conference League.

This was a hard watch, I never at any time thought Hearts had a chance of winning. That said, the penalty they lost to was the sort of award I thought we only ever saw given to the home team at Ibrox or Celtic Park in a domestic Scottish game – a “genuine mistake” that was never a penalty in the history of football.

OK I have been hard on this Rangers squad this season, but, having watched Hearts a few times in Europe this season, I am convinced, pro-rata, theyt have wasted more money on badge-kissing third-rate imports than even Rangers.

The quicker we impose an “Eight Diddies Rule” and have Scottish footballers playing for Scottish clubs, the better for the game up here.

 

Socrates Gets All Nostalgic

A PARTIAL LINE from “The Celtic Song': “If you know their history” came to mind as I read the Online Guardian on Saturday morning. Barney Ronay one of their football writers was waxing lyrical about the sudden emergence of wide players able to dribble and run at defences at speed.

Young Master Ronay, of course, belongs to that school of football writers who thinks the game of Association Football was invented in 1992, with the establishment of the English Premiership. Nothing which happened in the game for the 128 years before that – England winning the World Cup in 1966, Celtic winning the European Cup a year later, Liverpool's dominance of Europe under Bob Paisley, seemingly as relevant to Ronay and Co as the Roman occupation of Britain, the Norman Invasion, The Wars of the Roses, The Jacobite Risings and The Hanoverian Succession.

I began with the Hoops, so I now return there. Ronay is probably unaware that Defcon 1 in the Celtic manual of how to get out of a bit of opposition pressure in a European game was: “Gie the ba' tae Jinky and let him take it for a walk.”

The rest of the team knew, if they got the ball to Jimmy Johnstone, he was more than capable of holding on to it for a couple of minutes, driving three or four opponents to dizzy uselessness, until one of them fouled him and Celtic could, with the free kick, move 50 yards upfield. If that failed, they could always play it out to the left and allow Bobby Lennox to out-pace most defenders in another downfield run.

Fast wingers, able to dribble at pace, have long been a staple of the British game: Sir Stanley Matthews and Sir Tom Finney from England, Gordon Smith, and Alan Morton from Scotland, Billy Bingham and George Best from Northern Ireland and Cliff Jones and Leighton James from Wales, to pick just a few random examples.

What, one wonders, would such brilliant players have been able to do on today's pristine pitches, with the lightweight balls and equipment enjoyed by today's so-called stars. Or, to turn it around, how would today's big names cope with a sodden wet leather Thomson T-Ball, on a virtual ploughed field such as the old Baseball Ground?

They are never going to commission a statue of Phil Foden emerging from a virtual lake with the ball, as with the famous “Splash” statue of Tom Finney.

Football folklore tells us, Sir Alf Ramsey adopted his 4-3-3 “Wingless Wonders” formation, which won England the World Cup in 1966, as a kickback for the horrible afternoons he experienced at the hands of such Scottish wing wizards as Barnsley's Johnny Kelly – a childhood hero of Sir Michael Parkinson – and Liverpool's Billy Liddell.

Of course, the key moment in England's win over West Germany came when Alan Ball went on an old-fashioned run down the right, before crossing for Roger Hunt to score that wrongly-allowed third goal.

That's the trouble with modern football, coaches seem to be forbidding wingers from doing wingers' things. When last did you see a winger drop the shouilder, go round the outside of the full-back, hit the by-line and cross? It's like a hurricane in Hertfordshire – it hardly ever happens. Today's wide men invariably are on the “wrong” side – left-footers down the right and vice versa, encouraged to cut in on their good foot at every opportunity.

Some players such as Arsenal's Bukayo Saka or Rangers' Vaclav Cerny do this really well, but, I would suggest, the occasional reversion to old-fashioned ways, by going round the outside, would make even these fine players better.

THIS WEEK'S big match in Scotland will be Thursday night's “Battle of Britain” between Rangers and Tottenham Hotspur in the Europa League. It's a big game all right, as these cross-border clashes always are, and it will be particularly important for the Spurs'Manager. Losing to “The Jocks” just might be the end for Ange in North London.

This clash got me remembering the two clubs' first meeting in Europe, in the old European Cup-Winners Cup, back in the early 1960s. I was at college in Glasgow at the time and the tickets went on sale in the legendary and much-missed St Vincent Street shop: “The Sportsman's Emporium”. I got off my bus into ther city at Waterloo Street Bus Station, at 8.45am, joined the rear of the queue, which was stretching half-way down the Central Station frontage of Hope Street, and, by 10.30am, I had my two tickets for the game.

In truth, the game was a bit of a “dead rubber” - that legendary Tottenham team of all the talents: Scotland goalkeeper Bill Brown, England centre-half Maurice Norman, one-third of maybe the best British half-back line of all time, along with Captain Danny Blachflower and oor ain Dave Mackay; there was no relief up front, with John “The Ghost” White, Jimmy Greaves, Bobby Smith and wonderful wingers Terry Medwin and Cliff Jones had thrashed Rangers 5-2 in the first leg at White Hart Lane.

The Rangers' team they thumped wasn't a bad outfit: Billy Ritchie; Bobby Shearer, Eric Caldow; Harold Davis, Ronnie McKinnon, Jim Baxter; Willie Henderson, Ian McMillan, Jimmy Millar, Ralph Brand and Davie Wilson.

Trailing 2-5 from the first leg, the second leg, for Rangers, was all about saving face. The game was called-off on the first due date, due to thick fog, but a week later, on 11 December, 1962, over 78,000 rolled into Ibrox, most hoping for a miracle.

That hope lasted a mere eight minutes, before Greaves made the aggregate score 6-2 to the visitors. That was the only goal of the first half. Ralph Brand equalised early in the second half, only for Smith to restore Tottenham's advantage on the night. Rangers weren't done, however and Davie Wilson scored a second equaliser. However, in the last minute, Smith scored again to give the visitors the victory and an 8-4 aggregate win.

The Press, as ever, went with the obvious and Smith's two goals as the highlight; but, for me, the big thing from the game was the way you hardly noticed John White, until he played the killer passes for two of the goals. His death, less than a year later, was a terrible blow to Scottish football.

Tottenham went on to win the competition that season. That was a very-special team. I don't know what will happen on Thursday, but one thing I do know, neither of the present-day squads from the two clubs has even a portion of the talent available to the two clubs 62 years ago.

Revenge - A Dish Best Served Cold

THE LATE, GREAT HUGHIE TAYLOR'S piece on Rangers' first European campaign, in his Scottish Football Annual, number four I think, had a great deal to do with me wanting to become a Sports Writer. Kilmarnock's finest's tale of how the Fans With Typewriters adjusted to this new world of European travel over three incident-filled games, really captured my imagination.

Little did I then know, for instance, that I would later be by-lined on the same page as Hughie, who I was pleased to call a friend and mentor, but, I too, would know the relief of having Tommy McGhee, name-checked as Hughie's copy-taker as he telephoned in his report from Nice, saving my arse in similar circumstances, some 30 years later, in the days before lap tops and the world-wide web.

These thoughts crossed my mind last night, as, Courtesy of TNT Sports, I watched Rangers crush Nice 4-1 in their latest Europa League game. Now, I cannot really comment on the relative merits of the Nice team of 1956 and the shower which Rangers took apart last week – after adopting that Ibrox classic: “The cry was no defenders”. I do however, in my mind, know that Niven; Shearer, Caldow; McColl, Young, Logie; Scott, Simpson, Murray, Baird, Hubbard, the first Rangers XI to venture into Europe, was a better team than the one which won so-easily on Thursday night.

Older Rangers fans still insist, their team was kicked off the park back in 1956 – Thursday night's win showed, Revenge truly is a dish best served cold.

Yes, it was a very-good win, but, they were playing nobody and probably left three or four goals out there. The squad which Philippe Clement has assmebled is probably better-suited to playing a counter-attacking “European” brand of football than it is the Charge of the Light Blue Brigade style demanded by their fans against the diddy teams they face in Scotland. There are still, however, several players in the present-day squad who are quite clearly Not Rangers Class.

AT LEAST Rangers won. Hearts were woeful in falling to Cercle Brugge in their Europa Conference League game. Right from the off, I could only ever see one result, a home win. Hearts have one or two reasonable players, but, as with the Ibrox outfit, they are giving a wage to several players who are clearly not Hearts class.

When I was young, the DC Thomson school of comics: Adventure, Hotspur, Rover and Wizard were print comics, you had to read the stories, rather than gaze at comic strips.

I remember one about an eccentric millionaire football club owner, who built his team by kidnapping good players then transferring their skills to unknowns, who would immediately become superstars for his team.

OK, very far-fetched pre-Marvel stuff, but, watching Lawrence Shankland in Brugge, I was wondering if maybe that's what has happened to him. Right now, the Hearts' Captain cannot even buy a goal and it's tragic to watch him struggle.

However, I am sure, once he does get one into the net, the curse will be lifted and the goals will flow again.

I MENTIONED this on Facebook on Wednesday night, but, no harm in rehashing it. Wining the Scottish Cup in 1987 got St Mirren into the following season's European Cup-Winners Cup, where they went out to “Belgian Minnows” Mechelen.

The Buddies were roundly criticised in Scotland for losing to such an apparently weak team. Except, Mechelen went all the way to the final, where they beat Ajax to lift the trophy. As my old mucker Campbell Money is still insisting – Mechelen were a very-good team, losing to them was no disgrace.

Mind you, regardless of the fact they have a habit of beating us at international level, while Mechelen thumping St Mirren is not the only instance of a Belgian club knocking a Scottish one out of Europe, we Scots still appear to think the Belgians are not as good as us. Well Club Brugge knocked that one on the head at Celtic Park on Wednesday night.

I thought they were the better team on the night, but, well done to Celtic for coming back to earn a draw.

IT IS ONE THING to beat a virtual reserve team in Europe in midweek, quite another to limp past dire domestic opposition at the weekend, and that's the big problem facing this Rangers team at the moment. They really are a curate's egg of a team right now.

An old friend of mine, no longer with us, but happy to admit he was never more than a journeyman professional, even though he strutted his stuff in the old pre-Premiership English First Division, once told me this story.

He had been down South at a reunion of his old English side and the club's veteran kitman asked him: “What's gone wrong with Scottish football and Scottish footballers? You guys used to come down here, demanding the ball all the time in training and in games, influencing affairs, nowadays the Scots we get here don't appear to want the ball – they will run all day, but can no longer create.”

OK, there are gey few Scottish accents, or Scottish-reared players in the current Rangers team, but, otherwise, they exactly meet the critique of that old kit man. Yes, they generally pass the diddy teams off the park in domestic games, but, for me, a lot of the passing is a case of passing the buck.

Rangers have always had players who could play a killer pass; just from the guys I've seen: Jim Baxter (the best of them all), Ian McMillan, Bobby Russell, Ian Durrant, Derek Ferguson, Paul Gascoigne, to name but a few. None of the current lot comes remotely close to that level of invention.

And, at Perth, on Sunday, they were playing a St Johnstone team I would rate as no more than good Junior standard. I fear a long, hard winter for Ra Peepul. This league is now more than ever, Celtic's to lose.