Whitaboot Embarrasment And Disgrace

OLD DAN ARCHER said it first and best, back 50 years ago, when he described Rangers Football Club as: “A permanent embarrasment and occasional disgrace.” Nothing has happened in the intervening half century to disprove Dan's verdict.

Sunday certainly demonstrated, the Rangers' fans are still capable, at the drop of a hat, of breaching the bounds of acceptable conduct; but, and in saying this I run the risk of accusations of “Whitabootery” - what about the other lot?

That Scottish Gas Scottish Cup Quarter-Final was rank rotten, the fitba was terrible, the atmosphere was toxic and, long before the end, I had realised, Rangers weren't going to win it. Long years at the coal face of fitba reporting has taught me, when you create and squander the amount of chances Rangers did in that game, you very seldom win the game.

By midway through the second half, the only question was, exactly how were Rangers going to blow this one. In the end, it was by being abysmal from the penalty spot; once Jamers Tavernier blasted that first penalty into the upper tier of the Copeland Road Stand, the writing was on the wall for Rangers.

And Celtic, they were, for the 90 minutes of normal time plus the 30 minutes of Extra Time, a poor second to Rangers. I have been saying for months/years, the majority of the current Rangers squad never were, are not and never will be Rangers Class. Without their injured Club Captain, the 2025-26 Celtic squad contains too-many players who are obviously not Celtic Class.

I look at the chances Rangers scorned; I reckon the present-day, roly-poly, overweight Ally McCoist or even the 89-year-old Ralph Brand would surely have finished off at least one of the chances passed-up on Sunday.

However, this piece is not about the honking game we had to endure, it is about the post-game events. Of course, the media-savvier Celtic support and their legion of media apologists have moved quickly to blame the home fans for what took place after the last penalty went in.

This is just the latest example of what we call The Mandy Rice Davies Defence. For those too-young to remember The Profumo Affair of the early 1960s and in particular, the trial of Stephen Ward, saw the then 18-year-old Mandy in the witness box. It was put to her that Viscount Astor had denied sleeping with her; to which Mandy famously replied: “Well, he would, wouldn't he”.

Fast forward over 60 years and in denying any wrong-doing on Sunday, surely The Celtic Family were taking their cue from the noble Lord.

Aportioning blame for Sunday's post-match unpleasantness would, in my view, be a pointless exercise, on the ancient basis of: Twa cheeks o' the same erse”, but, it cannot be denied – the Celtic fans were the first onto the park.

If The Scottish Football Association had any balls, they would hit both teams and hit them hard, but the answer to that suggestion is to invoke a peculiarly Scottish response – Aye Right! The teams will get a slap on the wrist and their toxic followers will simply regroup and await their chance to cause more bother.

How about really hurting them this time? I will digress a wee bit here, and reference Ice Hockey. In that game, when a minor punch-up breaks out, which frequently happens, the referees usually send the miscreants to the sin bin for two minutes. However, they can, if they like, send the instigator of the punch-up for an additional two minutes.

So, why not ban both sides from next season's Scottish Cup, while, since the Celtic fans started the bother on Saturday, chuck their club out of this season's competition as well. I know it's a long shot, but, it might work.

Both clubs have, over the years suffered in Europe from UEFA fining them for fan misbehaviour. In Europe, the clubs are held responsible for unseemly conduct by their followers – the SFA ridiculously fails to do this for misbehaviour in the domestic game.

I am not saying the improvement in conduct would be immediate, but, if the governing body was to crack down on fans' bad behaviour and sanction the teams, well, in time things would hopefully, if not surely, improve.

Until then, I suppose we will simply have to tolerate, as we have for over a century, terrible behaviour from these two sets of so-called supporters.

It's Time Fitba Entered the 21st Century

THIS IS A BEE which I have had in my bunnet for some time now – but isn't it about time IFAB – The International Football Associations Board – FIFA's ultimate body as regards the Laws of the Game – earned its keep and made those Laws suitable for the game in the 21^st century.

If we take 1863, when the Football Association was formed, as Year Zero for The Beautiful Game, then we've been playing the game for 163 years. In that time, it has changed to such a degree, those Victorian age pioneers who started things off, transported via time travel to watch a top league or international game today would be dumb-struck by what they saw.

The basic concept, they could still understand – the idea of the game being to propel the ball, mainly by foot, downfield to score goals by placing that ball into the appropriate goal. But, I dare say they would struggle to cope with the players' kit, the ball, some of the tactics, certainly the attitude of the players: while I fear the concept of VAR would be beyond them.

Over these 163 years there have been countless instances of what we might call “Shuffling deckchairs on the Titanic” but, no genine case of the game's rulers making a determined effort to introduce Association Football 2:0. I believe that time is now.

Perhaps the biggest talking point in Scottish Fitba at the moment is what some people are calling: “Celtic Time” - the way the defending Champions keep scoring winning or equalising goals in time added-on. Indeed there is even a social media meme which shows the Fourth Official holding up the board indicating how much time added-on will be played, that board reads: “Till Celtic score”.

This is nothing new in the game, it used to be, in England, time added-on was known as: “Fergie Time” due to the number of times Alex Ferguson's Manchester United would pull matches out of the fire after the clock ticked past 90 minutes.

Ninety minutes (to halves of 45 minutes each) has been the official time which a football match lasts, since Victorian days. Perhaps, more than 150 years into the evolution of the game, it is time for change.

The English Premier League takes careful note of statistics. The average top-tier English game, from kick-off to final whistle, lasts on average, 109 minutes; yet, the ball is in play for only 55 minutes. Effectively, for nearly half the time the game lasts, nothing significant is happening.

When you consider how much match tickets, programmes, food and drink in the ground costs, this is barely value for money.

Why not do what is the norm in North American sport and switch to Ball In Play Time? In sports such as American Football or Ice Hockey each game lasts 60 minutes, but, that represents 60 minutes of actual play; when the ball (or puck) goes out of play, or is “dead” or when play is being re-started after a goal, the clock stops and doesn't restart until the referee blows.

Football could also take a hint from other games, wherein when play stops, it has to resume within a certain time. In Rugby Union, for instance, the ball has to be put into a scrum or line out within 30 seconds of the game stopping, while place kickers taking a penalty goal or conversion also have to do so within a set time.

I would reckon, going to ball in play time would necessitate the use of specialist time keepers, perhaps even with a secondary time keeper to adjudicate in the time it might take to restart play. Football at the top level could easily afford this. The introduction of official time keepers would free-up referees from time-keeping to concentrate on actual play.

Why not also taking another cue from Rugby Union. There, when the 80 minutes match time expires, the game does not automatically end until the ball goes dead – introducing this would go some way towards ending the controversies over time added-on.

 

The Diddy Teams Can Entertain Too

SATURDAY was a good day for the (paper) roses, as Neil McCann and Billy Dodds got their first win as the Kilmarnock management team. This was a huge boost to all us worried Rugby Parkers, who had began to fear the tide would never turn. Now – hopefully – it's onwards and upwards in a spring surge.

I watched Hearts demolish Dundee United on TV on Saturday night. I have to say, they played some impressive fitba and thoroughly deserved their win. I couldn't help wondering what Jim McLean might have made of United's display – which was nothing short of disgraceful.

Their first red card was maybe unfortunate, but the second boy deserved to go for sheer stupidity. Clearly a “Dundee Kiss” has nothing like the velocity and sheer anger of the “Glasgow” version; however, he had to go for sheer stupidity. Mind you, had I been the referee, I would have been thinking of a yellow card for the Hearts' player – for “over-acting”.

Good to see age has not mellowed Dave Bowman, who was also red-carded. I have interviewed Dave, and you couldn't meet a nicer fellow, however, when the whistle blows, he still shows how he was deeply immersed in the Jim McLean culture.

FOLLOWING NEARLY a decade on the Paisley Daily Express Sports Desk, during which Love Street became almost a second home to me, I still, a quarter of a century on, have a soft spot for the Buddies.

Watching Saints squander chance after chance at home to Hearts on Tuesday night, I kept waiting for the ten-man visitors to break out and snatch a 1-0 win – that's a movie I have seen too often in the past. Never mind the Superstars – Gerry Baker, Gunni Torfason, Frank McAvennie, Frank McDougall or Frank McAvennie; with merely competent chance-takers such as Basher Lavety or Mark Yardley up front. In fact, I'd have backed the likes of Chris Iwelumo (pictured below) or even Junior Mendes to have had the Buddies home and hosed by half time.

However, in the end, Stephen Robertson got the win he desperately needed, even if, in the process, he added oxygen to the Championship hopes of the Bigot Brothers and made life a bit more difficult for my own redemption hopes for Kilmarnock.

ONE ASPECT of Tuesday night's game, which did concern me, was this: St Mirren only had two Scotsmen in their starting line-up, Hearts had four. This means, 72% - nearly three-quarters of the starters in a top-flight Scottish League game were non-Scots.

To my mind, a domestic league which allows this and a national governing body which allows that league to so ignore local talent is guilty of total dereliction of duty. These figures are a disgrace.

In my last wee piece above, I mentioned my near decade covering St Mirren, in that time, for all but a couple of seasons, the Buddies were in the old First Division, now The Championship; yet they still produced the following players for various Scottish age group teams (and apologies if I miss anyone out, I'm working from memory here):

Alan Combe, Derek Scrimgeour, Martin Baker, Chris Kerr, Sergei Baltacha, David McNamee, Burton O'Brien, Jamie Fullarton, Brian Hetherston, Hugh Murray, Steven McGarry, Chris Iwelumo, Ricky Gillies, and David Milne. They still had Basher at that time, plus Norrie McWhirter, perhaps the unluckiest player in Scottish football history in that injuries kept under-mining his undoubted class and talent.

The St Mirren team I covered had a central core of Paisley boys, this had always been the club's way. Today, a genuine Buddie in the squad is a rarity and for all their status as a top division club, I wonder if the home fans are truly happy with this situation.

I'm not having a go at Saints here, they are just one of too-many Scottish clubs who have decided to almost ignore native talent in a vain bid to close the gap on the Big Two. I think this buying in non-Scottish talent is the wrong tactics; what the other clubs should be doing is levelling-up the playing field by insisting on a CBA – a Collective Bargaining Agreement – by the rest getting together to stand up to the Big Two and by insisting on the implementation of Chick Young's Eight Diddies Rule – to pro-actively encourage native talent; then maybe we would be getting somewhere.

 

Scottish Fitba Is Corrupt To The Core

CELTIC GIVE UP A LEAD then have a player red-carded, dropping behind Rangers in the title race and failing to cut into Hearts' lead at the top of the SPL table – cue outrage, a media storm and yet another example of that old chestnut: “Celtic: Never defeated – always cheated”.

The Cellik Man in the next bed to me in the hospital ward had a relapse watching the game, before unleashing a tirade of abuse at VAR Official John Beaton. In this instance, with justification – Auston Trusty was never the last man, it was never a red card. You could chalk it up as yet another in the lengthy litany of “honest mistakes” made by Scottish officials. However, John Beaton has what in legal terms is known as “previous” when it comes to decisions which have cost Celtic.

The High Heid Yins of the game have made a total bollocks of VAR. Rugby Union hasn't got it right, but, their use of Television Match Officials – not least the protacol whereby the exchange between the team on the park and the man in the TV truck is broadcast live to the crowd in big games means, everyone knows the thinking and the process – there are no secrets.

Mind you, even if Football went down the Rugby Union route for clarity, where the Bigot Brothers are concerned, there would still be controversy and claims of nefarious practices.

Scottish Fitba – the basket case that keeps on giving. That said, on Sunday, following events at Tynecastle and Ibrox via the BBC Shortbread website, with Rangers toiling to break down a stubborn Dee defence, I was wondering when the home team would get their penalty.

This duly arrived late in the second half, James Tavernier slotting home his 100^th League goal, before a further two strikes enabled the blue half of Glasgow to overhaul the green half into second place in the table.

THE CURRENT manification of: “I may have mentioned the War, but, I think I got away with it” is probably the Scottish mainstream media's attitude to the suggestion – apparently being driven by Falkirk - that we revert to a 16-club top league.

As I see it, going back to a 16-club top flight, while it has its merits, would be nothing other than shuffling the deck-chairs on the Titanic. I am a fan of the moves which have seen a Scottish Football Pyramid formed, but for all its merits, I feel we should go down the North American road of having one Major and a few Minor Leagues.

We all know, the biggest problem in Scottish Football is – we have two teams who are individually, far less together, bigger than the other 40 “Senior” clubs combined – as long as they have a determination to act together, given the rules governing the game here, they will influence matters unduly. The sooner they can be hived off into an NFL-style European League, or integrated into the English Premiership, the better.

Without the Bigot Brothers, there would be some half a dozen clubs each season fancing their chances of winning the league – and, IF the revamped Scottish League was properly set-up and managed, with a CBA – that's a Combined Business Agreement, an essential part of how the NFL is managed, was in place, so much the better.

Even with the Bigot Brothers involved, a revamp might work, but I would suggest we would need to have certain changes in-place: stadium infrastructure, pitch protection, stadium capacity and seating. If 16 clubs could meet the agreed criteria, great, but we ought perhaps to be looking at a maximum of 20 clubs to begin with.

Ideally, we could go further down the North American organisation road, by having two conferences: for me the DALGLISH and LAW Conferences have a nice ring.

And finally – any changes to the roganisation of the Scottish Leagues MUST include introduction of Charles Young Esq's suggestion: “The Eight Diddies Rule” whereby, each team must have eight Scotland-Qualified players on the field at all times. We have to pro-actively advance the cause of home-grown players.

FINALLY – I am indifferent to Celtic FC, I don't care who beats them domestically. I am pissed off by their victim attitude and their “Never defeated – always cheated” whining.

That said, the decision not to rescind Auston Trusty's red card is nothing short of disgraceful and demonstrates that the High Heid Yins of our game couldnae run a menauge.

 

A New Giant Is In Football Valhalla

THIS HAS BEEN a mixed week for Fitba here in God's County. Delight at the return to home turf of one of our own, Wee Billy Dodds, who has joined Kilmarnock as Assistant to new Manager Neil McCann, but despair at the passing, aged 88, of the Legend that was Willie Knox – arguably the greatest Manager in the History of Junior Football, a level of the Beautiful Game which we hold dear here in Ayrshire.

Willie was a Schoolboy Internationalist, going on to play for several clubs, nost-notably Raith Rovers and Barrow, where he was praised for his attitude by no less a figure than Sir Matt Busby. However, if he never really hit the heights as a player, once he turned to coaching and managing, he found his true forte.

It is one of Scottish Fitba's great myths that Talbot could barely win a corner before Knox arrived in 1977. The terrible days of constant defeat were already behind them and Jamesie Kirkland had already started to turn things around, when he was replaced by Knox, but, the new gaffer definitely took the team to a new level and with on-field success came off field improvements and over his 16-year tenure in the Beechwood Park hot seat, Knox saw the club grow massively in stature.

The trophies began to arrive, in all, Knox guided Talbot to no less than 43 league and cup successes during his managerial tenure. The initial break-through came in the West of Scotland Cup, which took up near-permanent residence in the Beechwood clubhouse; however, the big one, the Holy Grail, The Scottish Junior Cup proved elusive, until that great Hampden afternoon, in 1986, when Talbot put the mighty Pollok to the swordL: raging back from two goals down to bring the magnificent trophy back to Auchinleck for the first time since 1949.

If you've won a trophy, the best thing to do is defend it, which Talbot duly did, beating Kilbirnie at Rugby Park, to make it two in a row. History now beckoned and a third straight final, against Petershill offered Knox and his squad immortality – they would not spurn the opportunity, making it a Threepeat and history.

A couple of fallow seasons in the Scottish followed, but, in 1991 at Brockville,

Talbot were again dominant, seeing off Newtongrange Star, before a fifth win in seven years, perhaps the most-satisfying, since it was over near-neighbours Glenafton Athletic, further enhanced the legend of Willie Knox.

Fitba folklore tells us all managerial reigns end in failure and after some internal politicking in the committee room, Knox left Talbot, He had later spells in-charge at Cumnock and Irvine Meadow, but the magic wasn't there.

Willie Knox recruited good players to the club, he managed them brilliantly and if he wasn't a great tactician, he was up there in the Ferguson/Shankly class as a man manager and motivator; getting extra out of comparatively ordinary players, while at the same time having one or two in his dressing room who were, in Junior Football terms, exceptional. He demanded excellence and success and he got it.

In retirement from management, he was always a welcome guest at Talbot games, while he took great enjoyment from his involvement with his grandson's boys club team in Kilmarnock. He also played his part in the Ayrshire Football Memories Club, particularly on the afternoon when he wound-up the great Eric Caldow to unprecedented levels of anger, by reminding him of a game in the 1950s in which Knox's Raith Rovers had stuck five goals on Rangers. I don't think Eric ever fully believed Willie about that one.

In 1989 he was awarded the BEM – British Empire Medal – to mark his managerial successes and I know for a fact, the new High Heid Yins of the Scottish Football Hall of Fame are intent on getting Willie Knox into that august body just as soon as they can.

Scottish Junior Football has lost a Giant.

IF IT IS well done thou good and faithful servant of the game. When it comes to Knoxie, it's Good Luck to another Ayrshire Footballing Great, with Billy Dodds' appointment as Assistant Manager of Kilmarnock.

Neil McCann of course has the big job at Rugby Park, but he will lean heavily on his old club mate in the remainder of the season. Killie have got themselves into a major pickle and it will take eerything McCann and Dodds can bring to the job to get them away from the basement fo the league.

I wish the pair well.

Socrates' Christmas Message

OLD FIRM FANS – the gift that keeps on giving, so well done to Ra Peepul for giving the rest of us a much-needed pre-Christmas laugh with their howls of protest and outrage after that “goal” was ruled out by VAR at Tynecastle on Sunday. Given the number of “Honest Mistakes” - far-less downright examples of refereeing corruption from which the Bigot Brothers – Rangers in particular - have benefitted over the years, I lang syne have grown tired of their pathetic whining whenever, as is now the case, their hopeless club management gets recruitment wrong and their fans have to put up with watching players being paid an absolute fortune for displays which would get them sent down the road from any reasonably well-run Junior team.

I once worked with a Chief Sports Sub who was definitely on the committee of Lodge Lap Top Loyal. We hacks used to wind him up by always listing the two clubs in the order “Celtic and Rangers”; sure enough, the copy would appear in the paper as “Rangers and Celtic”. He was an expert on all things Rangers, mind you, I suspect the last Rangers team he had ever paid to watch had lined-up: Brown, Young and Shaw, McColl, Woodburn and Cox......

I am somehow pleased for him, that he is not still around to have to, even from the comfort of his armchair, watch the 2025 vintage. I fear he would be saying: “That sort of stuff will get fitba stopped.” I fear for our game and where it is headed.

I WATCHED the Hearts v Rangers game on television, but, I have to admit, the pictures were far better for the following game: Celtic v Aberdeen, on good old Radio Shortbread. The difference – the talking heads at Celtic Park were Willie Miller and Packy Bonner, two old-timers who have been there, seen it, done it and got a lobby press full of t-shirts and dvds.

It was a joy to listen to these two waxing lyrical over the 90 minutes. Miller's incredulity when his favourites equalised was a joy to behold – it was wonderful stuff.

OK, when it comes to sports commentary on the radio, nothing, no programme comes close to Test Match Special, but, while the whole pace of commentary etc is different in Football, when you get, as on Sunday, craftsmen such as Oor Wullie and Big Packy, on-form, it's brilliant entertainment.

I mentioned TMS in that last paragraph; the whole concept of that stellar programme is – it's a bunch of mates at the game, discussing issues as they arise. OK, in the time it takes for each delivery in an over, cricket allows conversation threads to naturally arise and be drawn out. This cannot happen in football to the same degree, mind you, some of my most-enjoyable afternoons in press boxes have come about when the fitba was shite and the press had to amuse themselves.

I still chuckle at the young Colin Paterson of the Dumfries and Galloway Standard, wondering what alternative reality he had entered at Palmerston Park one afternoon, when, in an effort to beat the desire to top ourselves at the futility of the game we were covering, a few of us older hands spent the second half debating the relative merits of the Duke Ellington and Count Basie bands, with a slight diversion into the merits of Bix Beiderbecke. You don't get that level of intellectual dissertation at Ibrox or Celtic Park.

Then there was the serious debate at Rugby Park one afternoon, as to how many of the Kilmarnock team we were watching struggle to overcome a guy ordinary Montrose team would have been let in the door during the Golden Days under Willie Waddell.

That particular debate was ended by one of the great fan interventions. A Killie player went down injured and it took several minutes of Hugh Allen at his best to get him back on his feet. During the intermission, a fed-up home fan in the Frank Beattie Stand decided to give the beleaguered board a few word of advice.

This grew into a full-scale rant as the chorus welled-up behind him and not even the steely glare of Walter McCrae could silence the protest. That board was gone en masse within weeks and while there have been one or two traffic bumps since, that was the start of the club's recovery after too-many years in the doldrums.

I pen these words at the height of the pantomime season. Panto isc, like fitba used to be, cheap and cheerful entertainment for the masses. Maybe it's time we stopped treating it as warfare without bullets and got back to making it entertaining.

Willie Miller and Packy Bonner managed that this week, it's time their example morphed onto the field, among their unworthy successors as players.

Merry Christmas Everyone.

 

Cheer Up Wilfried Nancy - The French Have Words For It

WHEN IT COMES to commenting on Scottish Fitba, nobody has come close to the wisdom of Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, the guy credited with first saying: “Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose”. We have been where we are before; ok, not too-often, but, every now and again one of the 'Diddy Teams' rises to the occasion and figuratively boots one or other of the Big Two in the cojones, to the general merriment of the fitba community.

So, while the Celtic Family fulminate amidst wailing and gnashing of teeth, and Ra Peepul celebrate, the rest of us, those of us who do indeed suffer in the cause of a Diddy Team, we look towards Paisley and tell the delirious Buddies to Carpe diem and enjoy the winning feeling. Because, the Big Two will be back to lord it over us soon enough.

We should not be too surprised that the Buddies did the business on Sunday, in its relatively-short existence, under unpteen different guises, The League Cup has thrown-up some unusual winners, it is perhaps the Scottish competition which offers the minor players the best chance of embarrassing the perennial favourites, long may that continue.

The guy I feel most sorry for at Celtic Park is Manager Wilfried Nancy. He maybe didn't realise, when he took the job, the madhouse he had stepped into – well, I think he is starting tae ken noo. Over the last decade and a bit, while the other lot imploded, failed to learn their lesson and have stumbled through upper level management crises, always self-inflicted, the sense of victory entitlement down London Road has gradually ramped up.

Only time will tell if Nancy is to become a great Celtic manager, or one to be almost dismissed as a bad appointment, but, he has certainly dug himself into a hole very quickly.

The thing is, to those of us who marvelled at The Lisbon Lions, or The Quality Street Gang who came after them, this current squad lacks that important element – quality. Even in the dark days, when Celtic were not even Rangers' main challengers domestically, the team had some diamonds. In the 20 years between the end of World War II and Jock Stein returning as Manager, Celtic won:

• 1 League Championship

• 2 Scottish Cups

• 2 League Cups

• In that period they only qualified to play in Europe in three of the nine seasons of European football

OK, that period saw the Celtic Family reduced to celebrating the occasional success, such as the League and Cup double in 1954, Hampden in the sun in 1957 and the lifting of the St Mungo and Coronation Cups, but, for all the disappointments, they could watch teams which contained some stellar talents – home-grown Scottish caps such as Willie Miller and Frank Haffey, Mike Haughney, Dunky Mackay, Jim Kennedy, Bobby Evans, Eric Smith, Paddy Crerand, Billy McNeill, Bobby Collins, John McPhail and Bertie Auld. They had their great Irish trio of Sean Fallon, Bertie Peacock and Charlie Tully.

The Kelly Kids, the youth development system which saw raw diamonds polished to the level of Scotland Under-23 caps was the envy of Scotland, while even journeymen players such as Jock Stein were good enough to win selection for what was at the time, the considerable honour of selection for the Scottish League XI.

I look at some of the exotic multi-national talents on the field on Sunday and I ask: are they really better than home-grown Scots, guys who would be fans on the park might be?

I have long held the belief, in domestic games, Celtic and Rangers are generally facing an opposing side containing three of their own fans – determined to demonstrate, they are good enough to wear the strip; three of four of the other half's fans, determined not to lose to this lot, and that makes for a harder game. The best Celtic and Rangers teams always have had two or three fans on the park, other than Callum McGregor I don't see that in the current Celtic squad.

I reflect on the legacy of The Kelly Kids and The Quality Street Gang, then I look at the reality of Celtic B – currently lying tenth in the 18-club Scottish Lowland League, the fifth tier of the Scottish Football Pyramid, behind such giants of the game as Broxburn Athletic and Gala Fairydean, (no disrespect towards either team intended) and I have to wonder: what is going on at Celtic Park?

When I ruminate on the current situation, it is perhaps just as well that Gerry McNee lang syne put away his lap top. I recall, some 40 years ago, entering The Horseshoe Bar for a liquid lunch with Dan Archer, Doug Gillan and Hugh Taylor (I only keep the best company). On entering, we encountered one of the Titans of Scottish Fitba writing, whose career had been ended prematurely, when he opted for an evening of passion in a Leeds hotel, with a willing Yorkshire lass, to the first leg of the now legendary Leeds United v Celtic Battle of Britain.

This writer was a well-known Partick Thistle fan, as of course was Dan and they consoled each other with a brief acknowledgement of how tough things were at Firhill at that time – I can envisage similar doleful conversations among the Celtic apologists in the media this week.

Meanwhile, my thoughts are with my Buddie friends in the media, guys such as David Ferguson, Bill Leckie, Graeme Macpherson and Charles Young Esq. I bet they are enjoying this week, however, I caution them, gentlemen – dignity and humility in victory.