THE events of the past week might have given the impression that Bill Shankly was, after all, correct in saying football was more important than a matter of life and death - but I don't believe the Glenbuck Guru truly thought that.
Leaving aside the thought processes - was he capable of rational thought? - of the half-wit now awaiting trial for his alleged attempted assault on Neil Lennon at Tynecastle last week, the brouhaha was more about the continuation of tribalism in 21st century Scotland than about football. That tribalism has always been there, it survived the break-up of the clans, and has certainly been evident in some of the fall-out from the recent Scottish election; will Scotland: "the last heathen nation in Europe" ever grow-up and join the third millemmium?
Maybes aye - maybes naw, as another Scottish footballing philosopher based on Merseyside might say.
Where do we go from here? Forward tho ah canna see - ah guess and fear.
I feel, by the way, there was something symbolic in the fact Ernie Walker passed away over the weekend. Rather like the matriach in Coleen McCullogh's blockbuster 'The Thorn Birds' or the matriach of an Ayrshire family of my acquaintance, both of whom showed their deep objections to what they considered "wrong" outcomes to affairs of the heart by dying at the most-embarrassing moments, you could be excused for thinking Ernie had said: "Enough" and passed-on in protest at what has become of his beloved game.
Ernie was one Scots football man who got to sit at the game's top table - he was a heavy hitter across Europe, but, when he came up with perfectly sensible and much-needed suggestions for improving the game up here, the SFA said: "thanks but no thanks". The report of the Walker "Think Tank" continues to gather dust in some Hampden cupboard, where it has no doubt since been joined by Henry McLeish's more-recent review body findings.
We are quite happy to grub around in the gutter of the game. As events of the past few days have shown - that's where we are most at home.
Scottish football - nae money, nae class, nae future. Or is that simply a result of the default position of the Scottish nation. The wind's aye in oor faces; we're awe doomed, doomed ah tell ye.
A little over 300 years ago, having had their fingers badly burned in the Darien Scheme, a few Scots lords: "Sic a parcel o' rogues in a nation", quite shamefully sold our parliamentary independence for English gold and Scotland became poor, down-trodden, "North Britain" - the poor relation, only good for grouse moors, deer stalking, salmon fishing; a handy place for sinking coal mines, building iron works; a good source of cheap labour, cheap resources and fiery foot soldiers for the armies necessary for the subjugation of large tracts of the second and third world.
Scots soldiers went overseas and played more than a one-tenth part in turning the atlas red. The Highland Clearances forced the brightest and best to go off and develop Canada, the USA, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand.
The second wave of Scottish emigration built the railways which opened-up South America. At around the same time, as organised sport flourished in the final quarter of the 19th century, the "Scotch professors" went south to teach the English how to really play this new game of soccer which they had invented in their top public schools such as Eton and Harrow.
In this wave of overseas travel and expansion, some Scots went off to South America, laying the foundation stones of Argentinian and Brazilian football as an after-thought - and as a reward we got a skelping in Switzerland in 1954.
Back home, those who stayed - we gradually cringed back into oor ain wee middens; we somehow failed to show the gallus gumption of our grand-fathers and fathers. We stopped producing the players the world wanted to marvel at, our game stagnated and, like primitive tribes, seduced by beads and trinkets, we imported cheap, foreign tat, became fat and lazy and lost our way.
We've sunk to such a low level its all about biff, bash, blood and snotters. On and off the field, we are wallowing in a cess-pit of our own making and as a result, we've just endured a season of such awfulness, no wonder we want it to be over.
But, just as we get an election result, which wasn't supposed to happen. Just as Scotland sends out to the world a message: "We're not 100 per cent certain, but we think we'd like to be a nation again", hopefully our football will also say: "Right, we've learned our lesson; we've hit rock bottom and, while it will be a long, difficult haul, maybe we're ready to start the climb back to, if not, certainly respectability".
Let's hope so. Can we not put the last week behind us and rise now, to be a (football) nation again?
"We're not 100 per cent certain, but we think we'd like to be a nation again"
ReplyDeleteGood idea on paper, but it's never gonnae happen as long as the treacherous few keep rolling over for our English neighbours and pretending that they do not. Let us look at the evidence.
At which exact point did Killie decide to throw Sunday’s game versus the Hun, handing the title to Walter? Was it when they were 1-0 down after ONE minute, or 2-0 down after four minutes? Naaaaah, it must have been when they allowed themselves, despite defending as if their lives, not to mention pride, depended on it, to slip 3-0 in arrears after seven minutes, at home.
The subterfuge was as convincing as the Mel Gibson statue that sits at the foot of the Wallace monument.
Of course this is only my opinion, I cannot speak for the millions of other disgusted Celtic fans around the world, but surely we can't all be paranoid?
No James - you are not all paranoid. We vicious Proddies are indeed, out to get you.
ReplyDeleteDo I detect a wee smidgen of sarcasm my friend?See me? Vicious is not a word I would ever associate with this topic, I would not insult my many pals of the blue persuassion. However, when even they say to me that something was rotten about the Killie scoreline I do have to agree.
ReplyDeleteYou and I have an honest open agreement to discuss fitba as it happens, let us just stick to the rules and decide if Killie are rotten or just plain mince when it comes to playing in the SPL.