Socrates MacSporran

Socrates MacSporran
No I am not Chick Young, but I can remember when Scottish football was good

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

OK Neil, We Hear You, But, Don't Tell Us - Tell Wee Peter

RISING early to write this blog, I am again shaking my head in bemusement at the apparently widening gap between the two perennially-warring families at the top of the Scottish football food chain.

Overnight the cyber warriors of a blue and green persuasion, mostly the far-off members of the Caledonian Diaspora, have been venting their spleen over Neil Lennon's pre-match press conference, at which he looked forward to Celtic's opening Champions League qualifier against Cliftonville.

We have to accept, the wee man from Lurgan does bring a lot of the flak upon himself; should it all go tits up at Celtic Park, he will never get a gig in the diplomatic corps. But, he does have a point. In an ideal world, there is no way one of the National Champions, a club which has won the right to compete in what is called the Champions League, and which has, lest we forget ("Will we ever be allowed to forget" - W King, Larkhall) won the damned thing in the past, should have to enter the competition at the first qualifying round: while clubs which finished second, third or fourth in their national league are exempt until either later qualifying rounds, or the competition proper, merely because they play in a "Big" league, with good revenue-generating TV audiences or deals.

However, that would be in an ideal world and we are not talking about an ideal world here, we are speaking about the mad world of 21st century professional football.

In this crazy world, money doesn't so much speak as shout, like the basest fairground or market huckster. Furthermore, there is no way the 53 separate European Champions, plus the so-called "big" clubs from the "big" leagues can all be accommodated, without upsetting the major players, both national and club - and that would never do.

Whatever UEFA should decide to do to sort-out the many inconsistencies in the qualifying system for their competitions - the Champions and Europa Leagues, somebody, somewhere, will be offended. Sadly for Scotland and Celtic, in today's football world, where Mammon is king, Scotland and Celtic just aren't mammoth enough to have a voice which is heard above the general din of snouts in the cash trough.

I have long argued that Celtic and Rangers have been on the wrong course for years. Our two domestic giants have never hidden their longing to gain access to the money pot which is the English Premiership. They are, I maintain, setting their sights too low.

Ignore the noisy neighbours to the south, forge alliances with similarly disgruntled clubs in the "lesser" European leagues - the Benelux countries, Portugal, those central European and Balkan nations with football histories as long and proud as Scotland's - but which don't have a Sky TV coverage deal.

The long-term answer is to turn the European Clubs Association from a glorified talking shop into a real, MLB, MLS, NBA, NFL, NHL-style proper professional, continent-wide organisation. Therein, Celtic and a re-born, re-organised Rangers: ("Stop it - you're making me laugh" - S South, Croy),  could be major players.

UEFA isn't your target Neil - your primary target has to be the power brokers at the SFA and SPFL, including your own boss, wee Peter, and his pet poodle Regan. They are the guys who have presided over the fall of Scottish football and who seem to have no ideas, beyond shuffling the deck chairs on our Titanic vessel as it steams towards the iceberg, as to how to get us back to the top.

And on that wee Northern Irish angle, here endeth the rant. 

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