Woe, Woe And Thrice Woe

WHEN GREECE opened the scoring on Sunday night, I had an old familiar feeling: “Now, how exactly are we going to blow this one?” At 2-0 to the visitors I was sampling my inner Yogi Berra - “it was déjà vu all over again.” When we bore further gifts to the Greeks with that third goal, I switched-off, I knew then, there was no way back for us.

So, where do we go from here? To the depths of further despair I fear. Naturally, this being Scotland, the calls for the head of Steevie Clarke were growing, even as the Tartan Army staged yet another Hampden Boo-Off.

Being Scotland manager, while perhaps not as desperate a position as trying to meet what England expects of its National Team Manager – and certainly not carrying the near-certainty of a knighthood if you even get close to achieving what England expects – is still pretty-much a case of accepting a Mission Impossible operation.

The Scottish Football Association is a joke, a by-word for incompetence, troughing and self-interest. The Scottish Professional Football League is an even-bigger joke, two obese bullies lording it over 40 cowed followers, who would rather import third and fourth-rate non-Scottish players than promote native talent.

Yet, we still produce players good enough to play in some of Europe's top leagues, although the days when the dressing rooms of the top English clubs were wall-to-wall with Scots are long gone.

In the FIFA World Rankings, Scotland are ranked 45^th - 26^th in Europe, behind one or two countries the Tartan Army appears to think we should always beat easily.

Our League is ranked 17^th in Europe this season - 14^th over the past five years.

Our clubs' positions in the UEFA rankings (again a five-year plot) are:

Rangers (26), Celtic (59), Hearts (138), Aberdeen (161), Kilmarnock (205), St Mirren (206), Hibernian (207), Dundee United (208), Motherwell (209), St Johnstone (210). There are 427 clubs listed and those six clubs grouped together from places 205 to 210 are behind one or two “diddy teams” from “diddy leagues” I would not back to beat Auchinleck Talbot.

Robert Burns famously hoped mankind might have the opportunity: “tae see oorselves as ithers see us.” I have always felt this should apply to Scottish Fitba; if it did, we might accept, National League B – the level to which the “Greek Tragedy” on Sunday condemned us, is perhaps the place we ought to be.

To be fair to our football administrators and the Fans With Lap-Tops, over the years they have convinced us to re-write a popular terracing ditty, when it comes to Scottish Fitba, “We're shite, but we refuse to believe we are.”

I could at this point:

• call, (again) for a football revolution

• demand we get rid of the troughers and stumble-bums who have held us back for years

• insist we immediately institute a Three Foreigners Rule in our game

• institute a proper player development pathway

• bring-in a Collective Bargaining Agreement to level the playing field

• cut the number of Senior clubs and make the lesser leagues development ones

But, it would matter not a jot. The Scots truly are The Lost Tribe of Israel. Living in a football paradise, flowing with milk and honey - “Ach! That's no fur the likes o' us.”

SO. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? The national side now goes into cold storage until two Friendlies, against Iceland and Liechtenstein, in June. After that there is another interlude, before they face Belarus in our opening World Cup Qualifier in September.

There are not as many Friendlies now as there once were, so these two games have to be seen as a golden opportunity for Clarke, or if he departs or is let go in the interim, his successor, to have a soft start to the World Cup qualifying campaign. It gives him a chance to sort-out a few problems.

1. Craig Gordon is now 42 and in all honesty, he cannot go on for ever. Angus Gunn is the Heir Presumptive, but is currently injured. If he is fit again, and back in the Norwich City first team, then he will presumably come back for at least one of the friendlies. But, either way, we need to find and blood a young goalkeeper, who is getting regular game time, to put pressure on Gunn.

2. We need to find two, perhaps three central defenders. John Souttar, given his club form, particularly in the European games, is staking a claim to be the defensive lynch-pin, but who plays alongside him?

3. Who runs our midfield? Is it perhaps time to hand responsibility to Lewis Ferguson? How much has John McGinn got left? Who are our alternatives to the guys we have relied-on for so long?

4. How much has Andy Robertson got left?

5. Will Kieran Tierney mark two, back at Celtic, offer as much as first time around?

6. Where can we find a reliable, regular goal-scorer?

7. Are there any young players in the Under-21s about ready to be promoted to the big team?'

8. Why are our professional clubs allowed to employ so-many non-Scottish players, to the detriment of Scottish talent?

9. Why do we no longer have a functioning player development pathway?

10. If not Stevie Clark as Manager – Who?

But, that is probably the big, seldom-changing thing about Scottish Fitba – so many questions, so few answers. “Here's tae us, wha's like us” etc.

 

Might King Barry Have A Longer Reign?

I COULD be wrong, but, as far as I know, the first player to leave Rangers uncapped, then win a full Scotland cap with another club was Archie McAulay, capped as a Brentford player just after WWII. The second was George “Dandy” McLean, who won one cap as a Dundee player in 1968. Received wisdom has it that, after Rangers, every other club is a step down.

Very few young players who fail to make it with Rangers – or Celtic – go on to become big stars elsewhere, it's almost as if, not making it with the club they supported as youngsters, knocks genuine ambition out of many players.

Might we be able to extrapolate this belief into management? Could it be, the only place where Barry Ferguson gets the inspiration and belief it takes to be a top manager is with Rangers?

Given his less than stellar record elsewhere, might his current gig at Ibrox be the only job to which Barry is able to fully-commit? He may well have technical shortcomings as a coach, but, the passion for his club which he brings to the job may well prove to be the sort of man management which the squad has appeared to lack, prior to his arrival.

Watching through the lenses of the television cameras, I have gained the impression that one or two of the imports, under Philippe Clement, were not that bothered about the bread and butter domestic games, only prepared to put in near-maximum effort in the European games. They are now learning, under Ferguson and the rest of “Hun Direction” that every game matters when you pull on that shirt.

Now, if Barry would only insist on a return to the old Rangerrs' standards of dress – stockings pulled up to just below the knee, club suits worn on Match Days,etc, we may see them getting closer to Celtic and even further in Europe. Standards are Iimportant.

Speaking of which, Vaclav Cerny needs a serious talking-to, for his stupidity in goading those very-easily-offended Celtic fans on Sunday. Not a good look.

Another poor look was the “kettling” and non-admittance of sections of the Green Brigade and the Union Bears on Sunday. Both clubs have, for generations now, been happy to take the money but wash their hands of the excesses of a proportion of both supports. I have long argued, better to have them in the stadium pishing oot, than oot o' the stadium pishing in.

There is I feel, even more money to be made out of making them a real part of both clubs, while that would give a degree of control over their excesses. Even when their club has been the Big Dog in Scotland, there has been a toxic element within the Rangers' following. It is now 49 years since the great Ian Archer penned his legendary: “permanent embarrassment and an occasional disgrace” opinion on the club. Sunday showed, there hasn't been a lot of improvement in that time.

The Celtic Family may view themselves as better than the other lot, but, they too have septs who are not that welcome on big family occasions – while the High Heid Yins along the sixth floor corridor at Hampden, well, they're not going to give themselves bother by tackling the twa cheeks o' the same erse.

I fear, unless there is a major change of mind in high places, Old Firm Embarrassment, like the Poor, will be always with us.

THANKS TO a very-stupid self-inflicted accident – I slipped, fell in the shower and cracked my head – I missed the first half of the Old Firm game and was still a bit woozy in the second. However, I did enjoy it and that Igamande winner was fit to settle any game.

I was a bit more alert when watching Newcastle United v Liverpool. Another very-good game, rightfully won by a Newcastle team who finally got those 70 years of domestic failure off their backs.

In what I now regard as a previous life, back last century, I spent a number of years tramping up and down the UK's motorway network, driving a variety of trucks, vans and cars, even the occasional bus or coach. Often on a Saturday, I would encounter convoys of coaches from Tyneside, transporting the Toon Army to English clubs with nothing like their team's history or trophy haul.

These were the wilderness years for United, before Keegan, Ginola, Shearer and Robson. The sons and grandsons of those fans were the bulk of the Toon Army at Wembley on Sunday and I am delighted for them. They may ONLY have won the League Cup, England's third trophy, but, after all those barren years, a win is a win is a win.

For me, the Toon Army remains the best bunch of fans in this country. Enjoy the party lads and lasses. The Newky Broon and the Fed Ale will be flowing this week.

THE DUNDEE DERBY was somewhat overlooked on Sunday, which was a pity. Congratulations to the Dee, on a much-needed victory. I was pleased for my several Dee fans among my friends.

However, with my big Kilmarnock Bunnet on, I am getting a wee bit worried, since their three points from Sunday hauled Dundee to a mere one point behind us in the race to avoid having to play for our Premier League survival in the end-of-season relegation play-offs.

I am having the horrible thought of a two-legged Ayrshire Derby, at the Theatre of Pies and the remodelled Piggery, with Premier League status as the prize for the winners.

We may have to resurrect the likes of Burns, Hughie Taylor and the McIlvanney Brothers to do justice to that match. But, fear not, if it happens – I will give it my best shot.

 

We Have Problems Around Our Chosen Ones

I AM MORE THAN half-way down a binge-watch on a popular American TV series on Amazon Prime, so, on Thursday night, I reckoned I could happily pass on Fenerbache levelling their Europa League tie with Rangers in normal time, before tuning in for Extra Time and the to me, seemingly inevitable penalty shoot-out.

So I missed the boring bit and caught the real action. Well done to Rangers, in reaching the last eight. Now, I realise this is a long shot, a very-long shot, but, we could yet see “the worst-ever Manchester Unitd team” or “the worst-ever Rangers team” in this season's final. It could happen, since, if they get through their quarter-finals, the pair would meet in the semi-final.

I am now seeing suggestions that Jose Mourinho might be a contender for the Rangers' job come the end of the season. Now that's something to get the fans, on both sides of the Old Firm divide talking. Given the near certainty that Brendan Rodgers will, sooner or later, fancy another tilt at the bigger time in the EPL, “The Chosen One” could also be a potential managerial choice on the other side of Glasgow.

I actually think he's a better fit for Ibrox. The Celtic Family still has this romantic notion that their team has to win by playing attractive football. Down Edmiston Drive all you have to do is win, and keep winning – and that's more the Mourinho method.

REGULAR READERS will be aware, I was, when playing, a goalkeeper, a member of that much-maligned group, Scottish goalkeepers. Ours has been a tough milk round, particularly those of our number who got to back stop the full national side. Since World War II, these much-criticised citizens, in the order in which they were capped, have been:

Bobby Brown (5 caps), Willie Miller (6) Ian Black (1), Jimmy Cowan (25), George Farm (10), Fred Martin (6), Jock Anderson (1), Willie Fraser (2), Tommy Younger (24), Bill Brown (28).

Frank Haffey (2), Lawrie Leslie (5), Eddie Connachan (2), Billy Ritchie (1), Adam Blacklaw (3), Tommy Lawrence (3), Campbell Forsyth (4), Jim Cruickshank (9), Bobby Ferguson (7), Ronnie Simpson (5).

Harry Thomson (2), Bobby Clark (18), Jim Herriot (8), Ernie McGarr (2), Bob Wilson (2), Ally Hunter (4), David Harvey (16), Peter McCloy (4), Thomson Allan (2), Stewart Kennedy (5).

Jim Brown (1), Alan Rough (53), Jim Stewart (2), Davie Stewart (1), Jim Blyth (2), George Wood (4), Billy Thomson (7), Jim Leighton (91), Andy Goram (43), Henry Smith (3).

Bryan Gunn (6), Gordon Marshall Jnr (1), Nicky Walker (2), Neil Sullivan (28), Jonathan Gould (2), Rab Douglas (18), Paul Gallacher (7), David Marshall (47), Craig Gordon (80), Allan McGregor (42).

Cammy Bell (1), Matt Gilks (3), Jordan Archer (1), Jon McLaughlin (1), Scott Bain (3), Zander Clark (4), Angus Gunn (15), Liam Kelly (1).

In approximately 80 seasons since the end of WWII, we have played over 600 full internationals, in which we have capped 58 different goalkeepers. Of these men, only 3 keepers – representing 5% of those capped: Jim Leighton, Craig Gordon and Alan Rough have played more than 50 games, the yardstick for entry onto the SFA's elite Roll of Honour.

A further six Goalkeepers, just over 10% of those capped: namely Jimmy Cowan, Bill Brown, Andy Goram, Neil Sullivan, David Marshall and Allan McGregor have played more than 25 games, and thus earned the SFA's Silver Medal.

Ten of the 58 – just under 6% are in the ranks of Scotland's “One-Cap Wonders” - they are Ian Black, Jock Anderson, Billy Ritchie, Jim Brown, Davie Stewart, Gordon Marshall Jnr, Cammy Bell, Jordan Archer, Jon McLaughlin and Liam Kelly; the rest, the 39 who form the body of the Kirk, have played between two and 24 games each.

Each of our 58 post-war goalkeepers has played an average of just under 12 caps, which given the present average number of caps per season equates to a Scotland career which lasts about a season and a half.

For comparison, England has, in the same time period, since the end of WWII, played overr 1000 games, yet used only 50 goalkeepers. The conclusion has to be, Scotland has a problem with identifying and retaining international-quality goalkeepers.

This is becoming as I see it, a bit of a continuing problem. Stevie Clarke's latest squad includes three 'keepers: the seemingly ageless Craig Gordon, Liam Kelly, a member of the 1-cap wonders group and the uncapped Ipswich 'keeper Cieran Slicker. Both Kelly and Slicker are currently not the regular first-team goalkeeper at their club.

Indeed Slicker has played precicely one FA Cup tie plus two appearances in the Championship – England's second tier -plus a further two appearances in England's League Two while on-loan with Rochdale. In fact, the 22-year-old graduate of the Manchester City Academy has played exactly 11 professional games. Hardly the grounding you would expect of a potential international back stop.

The goalkeeping situation in our top-flight, the Premier Division is terrible. The 12 clubs list, in their First Team Squads, 34 goalkeepers. The nationality of the 34 custodians is:

Scottish (15), English (12), Bulgarian, Danish, Ghanian, Irish, Polish, Slovakian, Welsh – 1 each.

However, Craig Gordon is the solitary Scot who is undisputed Number One at his club; while there is not a single Scot starting between the sticks in the English Premiership, or in any of the European leagues.

Hampden – we have a problem.

 

Goalkeepers - Wbhitabootery and Cooncil Telly

FOOTBALL'S INTELLECTUAL orthodoxy says: “All goalkeepers are mad.” Speaking on behalf of my fellow custodians my answer is: “Yes, and when you see some of the daft ways you lot outfield try to beat us, you know what drives us daft.”

We all know the basic reason d'etre of the game is to win, by scoring more goals than the opposition. Given that fact, why should there not be an honoured place for those of us who wish to prevent ther scoring of goals? It's a classic case of balance, of Ying and Yang.

But no, we goalkeepers have, since the dawn of organised football, been seen as lesser beings. I will tell you how low we are on the game's totem pole. International football was started in 1872, with the first official Scotland v England match, at Hamilton Crescent. The men who basically organised the game were England's Charles W Allcock and Scotland's Robert Gardner.

Gardner was the goalkeeper in the first Scotland side – our very-first full internationalist, but, and this is a continuing disgrace, he has never been inducted into the Scottish Football Hall of Fame, far-less the full Scottish Sport Hall of Fame.

OK, no goalkeeper who lets in nine goals can ever be said to have had a great game, but, while Frank Haffey had to emigrate – via Swindon – to Australia, in an effort to escape the fall-out from Wembley 1961, a forensic examination of the match concluded: he might have done better for three of the goals, but, he was far from the worst Scotland player that afternoon. Yet “nine past Haffey” has become shorthand for that disaster – that's the sort of negativity which surrounds the men who wear gloves and a different coloured top.

So, given all the abuse we have to put up with, this week, we life-time members of Goalkeeping Lodge Number One are walking a bit taller, courtesy of a magnificent performance in Paris on Wednesday night, from Liverpool's Alison Becker, or as he is more commonly known – Alison.

Liverpool beating Paris St Germain 1-0 was perhaps the greatest smash and grab act in the history of the game. The French side pounded the Liverpool goal for most of the 90 minutes, they attempted nearly 30 shots at goal, ten of which were on-target; all bar one were saved by Alison – and that one he didn't get to was shown to be offside, by VAR.

Then, in what was almost their only attack, Liverpool scored, to take a precious one-goal lead into the second leg at Anfield next week.

In the AS (that's After Shankly) years, Liverpool have employed a number of great international goalkeepers – Scotland's Tommy Younger, Bert Slater and Tommy Lawrence; England's Ray Clemence, Zimbabwe's Bruce Groebbler, Spain's Pepe Reina and Poland's Jerzy Dudek to name but a few. I don't think any of that illustrious number ever gave as important or as outstanding a display of goalkeeping as did Alison in Paris.

Of course, football being football, and in particular goalkeeping being a precarious occupation, there is every likelihood that Alison will drop a major clanger in the second leg. It's that sort of uncertainty which keeps us goalkeepers humble, but, right now, Alison has made us all feel better about ourselves.

THE SPORTING WORLD'S longest-running game of Whitabootery got a bit of a boost on Thursday night when that top boy band Hun Direction stormed Istanbul, to the intense chagrin of “The Chosen One”. I gather, when he arrives in Scotland next week, Wee Jose will be passing on his usual tipples of fine wine or sparkling water, in favour of Tennent's Lager, or perchance the odd bottle of Buckie, to see if his men can turn the tide on a tie which is in danger of slipping away from him.

Of course, the fact the second leg is at Ibrox, a stage on which HD has shown themselves uncomfortable of late, just might prevent over-confidence on the part of the boy band's devoted following. However, until then, they can indulge in their favourite game, of yelling “Gerritrightupye” at the equally devoted followers of the rival band The Celtic Family.

The knowledge that Wee Baz, HD's lead singer, has now won more knock-out European games than a whole choir of CF legends will keep the HD fans happy through what we might, from recent experience, be further dark nights to come in this roller-coaster season.

There may only have been a couple of native Scots in the HD starting line-up in Istanbul on Thursday night, but, you've got to admit, they have picked-up on the Scottish trait for pulling off the big result when least expected to.

I know the odds are very-much against it, and there are several very-good sides, well capable of beating both teams who will have a say, but, for me (far-fetched though it might appear) this year's version of The Europa League could yet come down to a final between Manchester United and Rangers, two sides whose current squads get far-more stick than praise from even their own fans – if this happens, then we will know for sure, Jimmy Greaves was correct – Football is indeed a funny old game.

ENJOYABLE, indeed satisfying though the two midweek European games I have featured were, perhaps the biggest TV news of the week came today, Friday, with the news that the BBC has done a deal to show Scotland's internationals free to air.

About time too. The situation whereby we up here could get wall-to-wall England match coverage for free, but had to pay through the nose, and jump through hoops to see Scotland games, well, if they had been remotely interested in Independence, that would have been a free gift to the SNP.

Let's just hope, now the games are back on “Cooncil Telly” - Scotland are worth watching; but, that's half the fun with Scotland. There is a reason why “We're shite, but we know we are” has taken over from slandering of the late James Hill OBE in the Tartan Army's Greatest Hits song book.

 

A Predictable Response

IN A RECENT POST I brought up the issue of those players who had played for Scotland in the War-Time Internationals, but who never won a cap in peace time. The games between 1939 and early 1946 have always been, like the league and cup games played during the same period, “Unofficial” - they seemingly didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Aye Right!! Try telling the at times 130,000-plus Tartan Army who rocked up at Hampden for some of these games against England: “Naw lads, this is an unofficial game, it doesn't matter.” Try saying to Matt Busby, or Wullie Shankly, as they prepared to lead-out Scotland: “Now remember, this is an unoffical game, the result does not matter.”

Of course it mattered, it was England they were facing. If you had just spent the night in a bomb shelter while the Luftwaffe rained terror down on you and yours, possibly beating England would, for a time, make you feel better.

Any way, to his credit, SFA Honcho Ian Maxwell, to whom I wrote on this issue, was speedy in his response, which was as follows:

“Thank you very much for your email.

As you can imagine, issues such as this are emotive and need to be treated sensitively. Whilst I appreciate your desire to see caps issued in the cases you note below, we must also ensure that the correct boundaries are in place.

With that in mind we have consulted internally and have reached the decision that unfortunately we will not be issuing retrospective caps as per your request.

To provide some context to that decision I would comment as follows

• The 1967 tour was organised during peace time which was of course a very different time from the national crisis of the Second World War. The 1967 tour had originally planned to include full international matches while the wartime unofficial internationals were never considered to be full internationals - they were created in part to boost morale at home. The reason that the 1967 tour was not recognised at the time was because a lot of the players who were to be picked for the tour had to pull out had to pull out due to football related matters, as Scottish clubs reached European finals while a number of players at English clubs also pulled out. The tour had been long planned and would have greatly offended the other national associations had the Scottish FA pulled out.

• You will be aware that League titles won during the second World War are not recognised as being official or recorded as such and ensuring we treat these and the matches you refer to consistently is appropriate.

I appreciate this is not the response you were looking for however trust you understand our position.

Kind Regards

Ian Maxwell.

I am sorry Ian, but, I think your response is another case of the SFA getting it wrong. Ian brings up the case of some of the games in the 1967 World Tour being retrospectively re-classified as “Full Internationals”, over 50 years after they were played.

Come off it Ian, everyone and his dog knows, the major reason for upgrading these games to full internationals was so that Sir Alex Ferguson could be capped on his 80^th birthday. Even there, they messed-up, the game against Hong Kong was not upgraded, yet it was more of a full international than the one against the all-amateur Canadian Olympic Team, which was upgraded to full international status.

Funnily enough too, the game against Hong Kong on 1967 wasn't a full international, yet the one against the same opponents, in 2002 was.

To again quote from Ian's response:

“the wartime unofficial internationals were never considered to be full internationals - they were created in part to boost morale at home.”

That was a big part of my point, in May the United Kingdom will do what it does best – celebrate past glories and in particular the defeat of Nazi Germany 80 years ago. Indeed, if you have been watching BBC TV News today, you will be aware, they are already ramping things up in preparation. These footballers, whether by their actions on active service, or by their actions as morale-booster on the Home Front, they played their part.

If the 80^th birthday of a Manager whose escutcheon was already groaning under the weight of the honours he had accrued in his career was a good excuse on which to award belated caps to him and a handful of his team mates – then surely the 80^th anniversary of Victory in Europe is a good excuse to belatedly cap:

Tommy Bogan (Hibernian), Bobby Bolt (Rangers), Gordon Bremner (Arsenal), Tommy Brown (Heart of Midlothian), Willie Buchan (Blackpool), Jimmy Caskie (St Mirren, Rangers, Everton), Ken Chisholm (Queen's Park), Willie Corbett (Celtic), Joe Crozier (Brentford), Jock Dodds (Blackpool), Johnny Deakin (St Mirren), Willie Fagan (Liverpool), Bobby Finan (Blackpool), Jim Harley (Liverpool), JR “Tony” Harris (Queen's Park), John Harris (Wolverhampton Wanderers), Alec Herd (Manchester City), Charlie Johnston (Rangers), Sammy Kean (Hibernian), Willie Kilmarnock (Motherwell), Jock Kirton (Stoke City), Adam Little (Rangers), Duncan McClure (Heart of Midlothian), Malky MacDonald (Celtic), Peter “Ma Ba'” McKenna (Partick Thistle), Jim McPhie (or McPhee) (Falkirk), Frank Mennie (Kilmarnock), Arthur Milne (Hibernian), Jackie Oakes (Queen of the South), Henry Pinkerton (Falkirk), Jimmy Stenhouse (St Mirren), Bob Thyne (Kilmarnock (Darlington on loan), Edward “Ned” Weir (Clyde), Dougie Wallace (Clyde), Stan Williams (Aberdeen – Clyde (guest).

OK, I am not going to suggest any of these men is as highly-rated in the history of Scottish Football as Alex Ferguson, but, if one former Scotland manager can get a cap as an 80^th birthday present, why not cap another – Malky MacDonald, to mark the 80^th anniversary of VE-Day? Also, several names on the above list are those of small club legends, surely as-deserving of a cap as some of the also-rans who benefitted from the uprating of the 1967 games. And if Jock Dodds' ten goals in ten war-time internationals, including a hat-trick against England, isn't worth a cap – what is?

These men, by their efforts, brightened-up dark times, all are, as far as I know, now gone, but it would be nice if their families had a cap as a memento of their efforts in war-time.

The Scottish Rugby Union, at a time when thery were underr a bit of pressure over some issues, won themselves some kudos, by retrospectively capping the guys who played in their war-time internationals, how does it benefit the Scottish Football Association to not follow that lead?

 

We're Doing The Importing Wrongly

I AM STILL trying to get my head round what happened. “'Hun Direction' – The Homecoming” should have been a triumph, instead, it was a classic case of “Second Album Syndrome” as the promise of the reformed boy band's first album - “Live at the Theatre of Pies” crashed and burned. Proof if you like, what has the fans raving in Hicktown, Iowa, doesn't always work on Broadway.

I have long maintained, absolute top tier football – Manchester City etc – is downright boring; two sides, each determined to pass the other to death by boredom, afraid to take any shot which is not virtually-guaranteed to count, no thank you. Give me good old-fashioned Scottish Fitba, defenders who would struggle to trap a falling bag of cement, or who can miskick off either shin; that guarantees you mistakes, near-misses and excitement – and we have seen plenty of this on TV over the past seven days.

You know, I have extreme reservations about the huge number of non-Scots now strutting their stuff in our game. OK, one or two are good players, but, the majorioty ar every bit as inept as home-grown Scots. Back when I was involved in a couple of imported sports here, ice hockey and basketball, the High Heid Yins who were running these sports made much of their wish to see North American coaches in-place. Yes, North American-trained players were a welcome bonus, bringing a razzmataz the locals couldn't match, but, of more long-term benefit, was the work ethic of coaches who knew just what it took to make it in a deeper talent pool.

So, I say, keep the foreign coaches, such as the guys at Aberdeen, Motherwell and St Johnstone, but, let's cut back on the imported players and improve the home-grown talent as a matter of urgency.

ONLY TWO THINGS prevented me from achieving my ambition of being Scotland's international goalkeeper. The first and most-crucial was a distinct lack of talent, the second was, I am living embodiment of an old but true saying:

Those who can do

Those who no longer can coach

Those who only thought they could write about it.

Right now, we are seeing the dying days of The Craig Gordon Years. OK, the influential Lap-Top Loyal will trumpet the claims of “The Goalie” as the G.O.A.T. Of Scottish goalkeepers – a clan which has had to endure more than its fair share of being disparaged and disrespected.

These G.O.A.T. arguments are almost unwinnable, but, for me, big Craig has to be in the discussion. However, even he would admit, he is not the 'keeper he once was and who gets the gloves long term is a discussion we need to be having.

Angus Gunn, if he can get back to his form of his first caps, is the Heir Apparent, but, the number one jersey is not yet his as of right. I have to say, from what I have been watching of late, the standard of goalkeeping, at least in the Scottish game, is not great. Mind you, some of the 'keepers who on a weekly basis give the impression of being a scientist's wet dream – incapable of catching a cold – are not Scotland-qualified.

I can think of at least three eminent Scottish goalkeepers of fairly recent vintage who were renowned “Shaggers” - tis a pity the Scottish Football Association never investigated a suggestion made by Pat Crerand back when he was on the ITV World Cup Panel of 1970. Watching the great Brazil team winning that tourn ament, Paddy suggested: “We kidnap the likes of Pele and Tostao, bring them over here and put them to stud to build a team for the future.”

Failing that, did none of the three goalies I am thinking of pass-on their skills during their extra-curricular activities?

OK – IN TERMS of pure technical football ability, Scottish Fitba hums like a farm field with a dung spreader on it, but, you have to admit, for all the mistakes and mis-kicks, it's exciting. Just look at the Premier League table.

We all know, the title and probably all three domestic trophies are heading for Celtic Park, and while they are safe in Second, the on-going soap opera down Edmiston Drive is providing terrific entertainment for the public at large.

But, there is a terrific three-club scrap going on for third spot, and another good fight for the other top six places and a possible showing-up in Europe next season. Then, the fight to avoid the relegation play-off spot could go to the wire, as could the battle to avoid the automatic relegation place, so yes, plenty of reasons to turn-up over the remaining weeks of play.

There is also much to get excited about in the Championship. Falkirk, seemingly on-course for promtion not that long ago, are now in a three-way battle for the automatic promotion place, with Livingston and Ayr United. Partick Thistle seem safe in the final play-off place, but, could yet, being Thistle, spring a surprise in the post-regular season games. Again, much to look forward to.

Yes, our game is rubbish, and it's not helped by the current fashion for bringing-in low-grade players from England and abroad and ignoring native talent, but, maybe we Scots simply like our entertainment provided by people with minimal talent – that never harmed Fran and Anna or a long list of past and current Scottish “comedians” I could name.

 

Please Sir, Show Us How To Do Our Jobs

THE GREAT MAN is 82 now, so, it would be asking too-much for him to put on his boots and venture onto the Auchenhowie training pitch to show them how to do it, but, on the evidence of that opening half hour at the Theatre of Pies on Wednesday night, when they invited the boy band, brilliantly dubbed 'Hun Direction', to reform and save the jerseys, the Rangers Board didn't go far enough back. They should have invited John Greig back too, since, on the evidence of that opening half hour, the cry around Ibrox is still “No Defenders.”

There is a big difference in ther basic DNA of our two dominant clubs. A Best Celtic XI – of the first 100 years of that club – one player from each decade - would, after you handed the goalkeeper's jersey to John Thomson, be top-heavy with attackers: Patsy Gallacher, Jimmy McGrory, Jimmy Delaney, Charlie Tully, Jinky, Kenny – to name but five. The rival Rangers XI would, after Jerry Dawson grabbed the yellow jersey, be mostly defenders: Tom Vallance, Davie Meiklejohn, Jimmy Simpson, Jock Shaw, Willie Woodburn etc.

Up in that great Ludge in the sky, the ghosts of the Iron Curtain Defence must be cringing in embarrassment as some of the inept defending we saw on Wednesday night, and for much of this season. Rangers' power was built on defensive solidarity and if I was Barry Ferguson I would be getting one or two of my old mates – Richard Gough, Terry Butcher etc. up to give the current lot lessons in basic defending.

On the basis of the last hour of that game: are we finding out that James Tavernier is actually the new George Young? “Big Corky” spent the bulk of his Rangers' career at right back, before, in the wake of Woodburn's “sine die” suspension, he switched to centre-half. Now, Tavernier has always looked better going forward than defending, but, he did bring a bit more solidarity on Wednesday. A central pairing of Tavernier and John Souttar just might work for the rest of the season.

I might be being unfair to him here, but, if Barry Ferguson is to stabilise the ship, get the gap to Celtic down to single digits and somehow – against all current expectations - engineer a run deep into the knock-out phase of the Europa League, then I see his role as being in Man Management – getting across to a basically non-Scottish squad, what it means to wear that kit – while Neil McCann and Billy Dodds do the more-technical stuff on ther training park. There is the makings of a team in there, but little time left this season to bring it out.

Watching that game live, on Sky, then reviewing the other Wednesday night games later of Sportscene further convinced me, while watching two good teams – Manchester City v Real Madrid say, can be boring in the extreme: pass, pass, pass, on repeat; for true entertainment you need the SPFL – bad teams, giving the ball away, making wrong choices, missing sitters, ye cannae whack it for entertainment – with the added bonus of somewhat bizarre, not to say embarrassing, VAR interventions.

Speaking of embarrassment – what about that choral performance from the Rangers' support at Rugby Park? I know, we in the media have characterised the appointment of “Hun Direction” (sorry, I just love that description and admit, I am using it in part to wind-up a staunch member of 'The Lap-top Loyal', who gets most-upset when I use “Hun” in any piece about Rangers, since he considers it sectartian and cautioned me that I am better than that. - News Flash, I'm not), as a replanting of old Rangers standards.

Well, the travelling fans on Wednesday certainly dug into their back catgalogue of Rangers standards for their choral performance. I know, I joke about my native Ayrshire being “Orange County” and that my old school's song is 'The Sash My Father Wore' – there was a lot of evidence of many of my fellow Academicals supporting Rangers on Wednesday night; there perhaps to cheer-on old boy Doddsie.

As regular readers of these slavverings know, I have little time for badge-kissing foreign imports to Scottish fitba, we have enough of our own second and third-raters to go round, but, there is nothing wrong with small portions of exotic spicing in our game.

But, I would like to see our top clubs giving home-grown talent a stage to perform on, and, on Wednesday night I thought the 17-year-old Hearts prodigy James Wilson took his goal against St Mirren well. He is one to watch for the future. I just hope, however, he and whoever is advising him heed the (and there follows a phrase you will not often hear in this context) wise words of Kris Boyd, who, in the preamble to the Rugby Park game, called for exciting young Scottish talent to show patience, spend longer learning ther game in Scotland, before taking the big money on-offer in England.

Since the playing field was skewed too-far in the direction of England, because of the money even their “diddy teams” have to splash, there have been too-many promising boys who took the high road South before they were ready for it, only to crash and burn and fail to deliver on their promise.

Speaking of the Hearts v St Mirren game, Michael Stewart again showed why he is one of the top on-screen analysts, with his take on that flashed then rescinded Red Card.

“In Rugby Union, that is a straight red card, it is time for Football to take head knocks seriously,” he opined. Well said Michael.