Parkhead To Ibrox - The Gulf Of Glasgow

THERE must have been, over the past two years or so of turmoil, been few days which more-vividly demonstrate the vast gulf which currently exists between the two traditional power players in Scottish football than this morning's back pages.

 

On the one hand you have the reports on Celtic's thorough and clinical dismantling of Motherwell - third in the Premiership remember: a five-goal thrashing handed out to the Steel Men, on their own Fir Park pitch; on the other hand you have the latest round of name-calling in the battle for "the soul" of Rangers (if that isn't an oxymoron).

 

The current Rangers Chairman might, for all we know, be a pillar of Sussex society; he may be well-thought-of in "The City"; he might know his way around and be able to deliver an impressive balance sheet; but, at a time when the SS Rangers is side-on to a tsunami of issues, any one of which might swamp and cause it to founder - the big question down Edmiston Drive way seems to be: Is he one of us?

 

And, certain factions in the fo'c'sle seem to think not. Cue another round of bitterness - something the boys in the brown brogues, you have to admit, do rather well.

 

Sure, Celtic are out of Europe, even though they still have the small matter of a trip to Barcelona to come this week. Yes, between Scott Brown's wee rush of shite to his tiny brain, and a lack-lustre off-night in Amsterdam, the best team in Scotland managed to shoot themselves fatally in both feet in a group in which they had to function at maximum efficiency from start to finish.

 

But, domestically - and remember, you have to conquer Scotland just to reach the foothills of Europe - they are starting to look ominously impressive. So, here we have it - Celtic is where it is at in Scotland these days: Rangers are the comic interlude.

 

Or, to put it in historical Glaswegian context - Celtic are Morecambe and Wise - Rangers are Mike and Bernie Winters.

 

 

 

GARY Lineker's efforts at humour - well, they are seldom funny. He kicked-off the BBC's coverage of the World Cup draw yesterday by inviting the viewers to predict how-far England might go, and, when around 20% of the respondents suggested they might struggle to get out of a group, not even known at that point, he "quipped": "Scotland has voted".

 

Doesn't the crisp-muncher realise: we Scots WANT England to reach the quarter-finals, a stage in the World Cup, which, by England having reached it, sets the English Media off into a fervour of "It's our game - we taught the world", "England Expects", "This time - we're gonna get it right this time", "England's golden generation" and so-forth.

 

Then, the rug is swiftly pulled from under their feet and, as ever, refusing to face the reality - they're shite, expensive, over-priced shite, but, still SHITE - the English media start calling for heads. And, up here, we love it.

 

It's what World Cups are made for; so we can acknowledge our brilliance. Of course, we long ago realised, Scotland are Shite; but, we can live with this and we get our kicks from the realisation that, England too are shite, only, unlike us, the English haven't realised this.

 

I must admit, however, a sneaking admiration for Roy Hodgson. He has, I feel, made the best of the impossible job of dampening-down English hopes, and, actually, a quarter-finals finish would be a good result for the present England squad.

 

In truth, the draw hasn't been good for England. A fired-up Balotelli first up, in terrible conditions in which to play the high-tempo English game; followed by Uruguay, in what might be Diego Forlan's last hurrah, not forgetting that controversial chap from Liverpool determined to show the English press what he's all about - then, perhaps dis-spirited by two defeats and their media's measured response to this - a return to Belo Horizonte, of blessed memory.

 

Brazil just might be England's Argentina. Oh PLEASE!!!

 

 

 

I NOTED this week, some suggestion that Michel Platini fancies the introduction of Rugby's ten-minutes in the sin bin for yellow card offences. As someone as at home covering Rugby as football, can I say: Bring it on.

 

I have long felt, ten minutes in the sin bin for cautionable offences or for "professional" fouls or a lack of respect for referees, just might in time, cure football's ills. I wouldn't stop there, however. Bring-in ten-metre march backs for dissent at the award of free kicks, or for back-chat of any kind; let's have citing officers to review contentious issues, but, what would, I feel, be worth trying is the rugby protocol whereby, if a player is being booked or sent off, the team captain is summoned by the refereee to learn exactly why.

 

Mind you, could Scott Brown, as Celtic captain, remember the referee's explanation as to why Scott Brown, the Celtic player, was being sent off?

 

Could he then articulate the verdict to Neil Lennon?

 

And would Neil Lennon be listening in any case?

 

Mind you, as Big Billy, my Rangers-supporting friend, remarked when I talked him through this potential scenario: "It widnae matter, Cousin Vinny would find him not-guilty on appeal".