HEARTSm Hearts, Glorious Hearts - well hardly on Saturday, when they were well and truly gone-over by Rangers, amidst suggestions that First Secretary Vlad had been faxing directives to JJ's office to keep certain players out of the game.
I never even started trying to work out Vlad's ways and means of running his club, if I want mental anguish I'll just argue with my daughters, but, clearly, he's different.
Of course Vlad comes from the continental school of club management, in which we have a near-all-powerful president, who makes all the big decisions, and a trainer or coach, whose job is to put the players the president buys on the field and winning. This flies in the face of British practice, where the manager is God, he buys the players, trains them, picks the team and dictates the tactics, with the chairman at the other end of a fairly loose long rein and brought in to share in the glory when they win things, or to do the dirty deed when the manager is considered a failure.
This clash of personalities and roles has largely been won in England, while up here, it is still to a certain extent being fought by our more-conservative/reactionary managers. I think maybe JJ did the right thing in biting his tongue and letting Vlad have his way.
I mean, if an old-school scallywag like Harry Redknapp can, as he admitted in Sunday night's Alan Sugar vanity project shown on BBC2, accept the continental way of doing things - surely it's not too-late for JJ.
WHAT a relief Craig Whyte buying Rangers has been for one section of the Scottish media - the Lap Top Loyal, those hard-pressed hacks whose job it is to get the Old Firm hordes to buy their paper.
For a couple of years now - four whole transfer windows, they've been operating with one hand tied behind their backs, since they have been unable to speculate on which player was about to jet in and sign for Rangers.
Next week, when Craig Whyte hands SuperAlly the keys to the big office at the top of the marble staircase and the new, unsullied cheque book, it will again be open silly season on the transfer speculation stories.
Sharpen your chain saws Sven, Janni and the other Scandinavian tree-fellers, you're about to get a wee bit busier; all that extra newsprint has to come from somewhere.
I KNEW this fashion for white football boots would only lead to trouble - and it has. I notice that one-off eccentric Sandy Strang: teacher, writer, after-dinner-speaker, cricketer and all-round good egg rather upset the natives at East Kilbride at the weekend, by wearing white "blades" when playing cricket.
The Torrance House groundsman isn't too pleased with Mr Strang, comments were made to the umpite and Scotland's cricketing authorities may be about to get involved, albeit reluctantly as they've been hit for six by Sandy before.
But, what does one expect, allowing Weegies, even Hutchie-educated Weegies, even Hutchie-educated Weegies with an Oxford "blue" in soccer, to play the English gentleman's summer game of choice?
Of course, Sandy is saying it was an idea he picked up from an Australian - bloody colonials what.
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