DO YOU remember the simpler, good old days of the 1970s, when Billy Connolly was till funny, and proved this with a series of LPs (remember vinyl) which had you rolling on the floor, simultaneously laughing and crying from your aching sides.
Back then, the Big Yin did a spoof on the Army recruiting film of the time, which featured a semi-barracks-trained neanderthal tank commander - the modern-day Gary's ancestor, who was: according to Connolly: "A born leader", with a bolt in his neck and a zip up the back.
I fear said "Jock" became officer material and morphed into one of the "Ruperts" of the genuine Tartan Army's legend - you know, the sort of officer the "Jocks" would follow anywhere - out of a sense of foreboding and morbid curiousity.
It gets worse, I think he has left the army and is now a Hampden "blazer", since the sort of leadership we are currently getting from the National Stadium at this crucial juncture in the history of our game is being delivered by "born leaders" whom the young Connolly could and did spot was right for parody.
In evidence M'luds I offer the shambolic goings-on concerning Rangers/Rangers FC/The Rangers/Sevco, twixt February and the start of this season. This could be summed-up as a goalmouth stramash-cum-stairheid row-cum-mutual hair-pulling session, which did nothing for the good name or reputation of our game.
At a time when the game called for calm, resolute and decisive leadership, we had a Commander-in-Chief in President Ogilvie who was up to his armpits in the sludge, a behind-the-scenes-fixer and string-puller in Peter Lawwell who was trying to stituch-up things to suit his club, two supposed Chief Executives in Steart Regan and Neil Doncaster who were too-busy doing dirty back-stairs deals designed to make their organisations look good and in Charles Green, the new boy in town whose motives had not yet been established and whom nobody trusted.
This was a recipe for disaster, at a time when the game needed a Big Man to step in, sort-out the mess and put us on the correct path to a shining future.
Today, the mess is still piling up in the Hampden car park and we are no closer to sorting it out. And, while the "blazers' bicker and fight, our game goes further down the stank.
Is there nobody inside Hampden who can sort things out? Must the game implode totally before anything is done? And, by the time the 'blazers" remove their heads from their own arses and o something - will anyone still care?
No comments:
Post a Comment