Sunshine On Leith - Grey Skies Over Castle Greyskull

FORGIVE me if this is a continuity cock-up, I haven't seen the film for some time, but, in the Sound of Music, right after those swooping helicopter shots of Julie Andrews dancing across that Alpine meadow, then rushing back to Salzburg, the first set-piece song in the film has a bunch of nuns agreeing: "Maria's not an asset to the Abbey".

I hope the staunch, upright, douce representatives of 'Ra Peepul' will forgive the allusions to RC nuns, but, surely it is time that someone inside Ibrox concluded: "Coisty's not an asset to the Rangers'.

The man's status as the defunct club's all-time top scorer, his 50-plus caps for Scotland during his lengthy playing career, his present status as the living link between the former club and the present-day tribute act has, this far, kept him in a job. However, it has been obvious for some time - as coaches go, he's no better than a taxi.

For some time now there have been muted cries of: "Taxi for McCoist" eminating from some of the outer limits of the Rangers family. These cries have increased in volume since last night's loss to Hibernian.

I watched the first half on TV, it was car crash viewing. I was glad to get away to 'New Tricks' at 9pm, since I couldn't see Rangers pulling back more than the single goal the did get.

Mind you, the penalty Hibs didn't get for that handball from Lee McCulloch is just the latest in a long list of honest refereeing mistakes befalling visiting teams at Ibrox.

As a regular rugby reporter these days, how I wish football would embrace new technology and Television Match Officials as readily as rugby has. Rugby hasn't got it right, but, they are ahead of football in this respect.

A TMO would probably (unless he was the sort of "homer" the Welsh Rugby Union regularly inflict on Edinburgh and Glasgow) have looked at the footage and said: "penalty" - 4-0 to Hibs, cue mayhem.

When the tribute act was established in the old SFL Third Division, I argued this was a chance for Rangers to grow into the sort of Scottish team who would, in time, be able to get into the then SPL and immediately challenge Celtic. That club ought to have identified a solid central core of experienced players, for preference, "Rangers men", who could teach the youngsters around them good habits as they climbed through the leagues back to the top flight.

But no, McCoist was allowed to more or less continue the failed and discredited Murray model of buying cheap, shite players and bulldozing their way back to the top.

This worked for two seasons, when Rangers were a full-time club playing in part-time leagues. This season, however, they are just another full-time club in a league of full-time clubs, and, notwithstanding their good run of nine straight wins - the team was clearly not good enough and, last night, they were found out, big time.

Quite frankly, too-many of the squad are "Not Rangers Class"; that damning label applies, in my honest opinion, to the management team.

THIS week, I had to write an obituary to one of Scotland's relatively-unsung football heroes, the late Billy Neil of Queen's Park, who has died aged 75.

Billy was an Airdrie boy, who joined one of the smallest and most-elite groups of Scottish footballers, he was an Olympian, having played for Great Britain in the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome.

In the course of writing Billy's obit, I enjoyed an informative conversation with another Queen's Park great, Peter Buchanan, who was most helpful. Peter mentioned a Scottish victory of which I was unaware - when, in 1963, our Amateur international side won the European Amateur Championships, by beating West Germany 5-2 in the final.

That win alone would be worth celebrating, except, as Peter informed me, at half-time, the Germans were winning 2-0, only to be undone by five unanswered Scottish second-half goals; this made it an even-better win.

I knew about Scotland finishing as runners-up to Austria in the 1967 European Championships - the first to be promoted and run by UEFA; that was one of the more unsung feats of that annus mirabilis for Scottish football. However, although the 1963 Championships were not officially recognised by UEFA - beating West Germany 5-2 is a feat which ought to be celebrated more than it has been.

 

The Scotia Nostra v The Taffia - It's No Contest and Cheerio To Rio

SUFFERING as I am from a poor sleep pattern at present, my 2am trawl through the interweb this morning turned up a cracker, deep in the Guardian's website sports pages.

 

It seems those awfully nice chaps at Wembley are about to parachute Rio Ferdinand into the FIFA vice-presidency slot which is given to a representative of the four "Home Associations" - the (English) FA, the FA of Wales, the (Northern) Irish FA and those wonderful chaps at Hampden, the SFA.

 

The tone of the piece, which, to be fair to the Guardian, was a Press Association-penned piece, is that Rio should automatically succeed dear old Jim Boyce, the long-serving Ulsterman, who is standing down from the post.

 

The problem here is, the four Home Countries have to vote on it first and put forward a united choice as candidate, to fill the role which, in a Scottish context, was last filled, and filled very well, by the late David Will of Brechin City.

You may recall what happened when David stood down, John McBeth of Clyde got the gig, but, in an interview with some of our top Sunday paper writers, prior to his first trip to Switzerland, John let it slip that several FIFA officials, notably in his experience that wonderful Caribbean "diplomat" Mr Warner, couldn't be trusted as far as they could be thrown. Cue consternation in the cantons and Mr McBeth was suddenly ruled unacceptable at football's top table.

The fact that John's opinion was subsequently proved correct may be of little consolation to one of football's gentlemen, who would surely have been as asset to FIFA, which is hardly the epitome of democracy and good governance.

His black-balling let England in. Traditionally, the three Celtic countries combine to ensure, England doesn't get to supply the UK's FIFA vp, but, on that occasion, England blind-sided them. I forget who they put up, but,he was an absolute disaster, so-bad even FIFA couldn't stomach him and the relatively harmless Mr Boyce got the gig.

Now he is standing down, and, regardless of what will surely be a relentless media onslaught from Wembley and the English media - I would bet the house on the eventual UK vice-president being either Campbell Ogilvie or the Welsh candidate, whose name escapes me.

 

Now, Wales hasn't had the FIFA vp job for some 70-years, mainly because, they haven't had a candidate who came up to scratch. We may, rightly, bitch about the incompetence and lack of intelligence and ability of your average SFA "blazer", but, they are all Einsteins, compared to the members of the "Taffia" in Cardiff.

I still recall the Welsh trip into Central Europe, back in the 1970s, where, after a cock-up in the bookings which saw a 31-strong official Welsh party turn-up at Heathrow to discover only 30 seats booked on the aircraft, and it was  one of the players who had to be left behind to travel by the next day's flight - since all of the officials were too-important to be kicked-off the plane, and obviously much-more important than a mere player.

 

Legend has it the dunped player enjoyed an excellent night in a Heathrow hotel, his expenses paid by the FAW and his fevered brow calmed by the ministrations of a sympathetic BA stewardess!!!

FIFA is a veritable nest of vipers, you need jungle cunning to survive there, so, given the way he managed to survive in the top job at Hampden, as SFA president, in spite of his first club, the original Rangers, being liquidated, and his subsequent club, Hearts, going into administration; the way he has sailed untouched through various "scandals", such as the abortive deal to keep Rangers in the SPL post-liquidation, Ogilvie is almost a shoo-in.

He knows the movers and shakers in the FIFA Mafia, he knows where the bodies are buried and who buried them - forget it Rio and Boyo, the CO will get the gig.

IF THE message still hasn't hit home to the 11 diddy teams in the SPFL premiership, why not. Surely, after their failure to beat Motherwell at Celtic Park on Sunday, it is clear, this not very good or very confident Celtic team is beatable - if the rest just believe.

New manager, new players, lacking confidence, that's Celtic right now. They are more-vulnerable this season than they have been at any time in the past 50-years.

Fifty years on from that titanic Kilmarnock v Hearts struggle for the old SFL League title, is it too-much to hope for another upset and a diddy team winning the League.

IT IS sad to note the parting of the ways between Hamilton Academical and Scott Struthers, one of the few Scottish club officials who has ever shown a spark of something special.

And, how ironic, no sooner has the bold Scott announced his departure, than Accies make it, albeit briefly, to the top of the league table.

As the late 'Fergie' might have said: "What the @^*#'s going-on here".

Scotland The Feart

I have long held a deep mistrust of politics and politicians. As one who grew-up watching Ayrshire Junior Football, and played in a few Ayrshire rugby Derbies, I know a dirty game when I am involved in one - but, not one of the countless "Games of Shame", in which inter-village animosity got out of hand can come close in blatant, under-handed nastiness to the average political discourse between parties.

This was particularly true of  this week's referendum. OK, I am a sick-to-the-back-teeth, down-in-the-dumps Yes voter; I am one of the 45% who voted Yes, but saw enough of you conned by the empty promises of a one-eyed failed PM from Fife and three rich posh boys, up for the day on a flying visit from the Wastemonster cess-pit, egged-on by over-promoted stamp-lickers and snake-oil salesmen and women who are the members of the North British Regional Committee of the Labour Party - or, NB Loco as I term them.

Their lies caused Scotland to be sold down the river. I never for a moment thought an independent Scotland would be a land flowing with milk and honey; I well knew, even as I put my X in the Yes box, that, even if we won, the British Empire's remaining rump on the banks of the Thames would make getting away extremely difficult. I knew, as they did with that last-minute Vow in the Daily Retard, that  Britannia would waive the rule, and, I sensed, as so-often in the past - when faced with a real chance to make a difference - Scotland would bottle it.

We have history, a lengthy history, of bottling things: Scotland the Brave, no, far-too-often, we are Scotland the Feart.

The lesson is in our history. Wallace was betrayed by Scotland's self-interested Norman barons. There were a few battles with the English where Scotland held the high ground, had the greater numbers, but, decided to get tore-in and got torn to pieces.

You read the wording of the 1707 Act of Union and see the reality and what it has become - again. Perfidious Albion signed-up for one thing, then we let them impose something else.

I hope, when we don't get the extra poweers promised by Broon and the Three Amigos, those who bought the package remember.

Then there is our glorious sporting history. Now, I am not thinking too-clearly right now; I am too wound-up and wounded by what happened on Thursday, but - think of Scotland's greatest sporting moments in team sports, those wins which have gone down in legend and are celebrated.

The Wembley Wizards, 1967, World Cup 1974,  the Calcutta Cup "Grudge" match of 1990.

Of these, only the Murrayfield one counts as a genuine victory. That day, we took away the Calcutta Cup and the Grand Slam. The Wizards game was for the Home International Wooden Spoon. The 1967 game was a European Championship qualifier - we didn't qualify. World Cup 1974 - unbeated, but, we didn't qualify for the knock-out phase.

See the pattern, we win, but still we lose.

We lost again on Thursday, then we lost on Friday when Alex Salmond quit. I love Wee Eck, I had the pleasure of subbing his weekly horse racing column on The Scotsman for a time - he was a joy to work with.

After Thursday, I see him as almost a William Wallace figure, he took us to the brink, but, he was let down by his lesser rivals, who sold-out to English interests.

I hope Nicola Sturgeon, a genuine North Ayrshire "Nippy Sweetie" will become our Bruce and see us home to FREEDOM.

But, hey, I'm Scottish. Forward, tho ah canna see, ah guess and fear.

Meanwhile, I have decided, I can no longer stand throughout Flower of Scotland, when it is played before sporting internaitonals - the thought of it being roared out by "90-minute patriots" who had the chance to change this land on Thursday and bottled it sickens me.

So, when FoS strikes up, and the rest of the Tartan Army stands, I shall remain seated and silent. However, when we reach the second verse: that bit that goes:

"But we can still rise now - and be the nation again, that stood against him, proud Edwar's Army, and sent them homeward, tae think again",

Then, I will be on my feet and bawling it out, because, as one of the 45% who voted Yes, I will mean it.

Rant over.

Gaun Yersel Hen

MY mind has been on other things this past week; with Scotland's future as a nation being on the line, it seemed wrong to waste time on the waste of time which is present-day Scottish fitba.

 

Mind you, that said, the performance of our lassies in their World Cup qualifying campaign has been a breath of fresh air. As someone who has spent most of the past 40-years in a house dominated by women: one red-haired Scots-Canadian wife, her four fiesty daughters and now a grand-daughter who is 16 going on 36, I weel ken the power of the Scots woman.

 

The Scottish Women's FA is barely-tolerated, largely-patronised and more or less shoved into a corner and ignored by the half-wits in the SFA blazers. Our mainstream press give Scottish women's football fewer column centimetres than baseball and American Football - mind you, if they are not covering the Scotland's men's team, the Bigot Brothers and English football, well many of our so-called "top football writers" are simply not there.

 

Yet, here they are, into the World Cup Final qualifying play-offs. A superb achievement. And, let's not forget, the magnificent and under-appreciated Glasgow City ladies have a lot more Champions League experience than Glasgow Celtic in recent seasons.

 

You see, the thing is, when those brave pioneers who started the SWFA began, they did so from more or less a clean sheet. They didn't have gnarled veterans telling them: "Naw Hen, ye canny dae that, it's aye been din this wey".

 

So, they could come up with a summer season. They saw Scottish football as a skills-based game, not a substitute for Clan Warfare. There are rivalries, of course, but, women's football is free of the sectarianism and bigotry which ahs, for so long, despoiled the men's game.

 

Also, there seems to be a bit more willingness from the clubs, to put Scotland first - something which has not always been obvious from their male counterparts.

 

I sincerely hope they can build on their group achievements and qualify for the World Cup in Canada next year. What a showing-up that will be for our over-paid male stars. Of course, if they do, their problems will only just be starting, I am sure some of our gallant lads in the media will be delighted to put their own particular brand of spin on events in Canada - in which case, God help the women.

 

Can you imagine that unrepentant mysoginist Chick Young covering Women's Football?

 

Shudder!!

 

 

 

MEANWHILE back at the ranch, Celtic emerged from a testing away day to Salzburg with a draw, which, under the circumstances, was a good result.

 

I watched the game on BT Television and, Craig Gordon should get a share of any  bonus paid to his outfield team mates. The big man showed, again, that while form and fitness may be temporary, class is permanent, with a massive display.

 

This is not (yet) a good, far less a great Celtic team. It remains, and probably will for this season and maybe into next - a work in progress. However, in their Norwegian/Scots management team, they have the makings of something very good. As always, with the Bigot Brothers, however, I wish there was a heavier Scottish representation.

 

I also wish, somebody, could plant some sense in Scott Brown's head. He picked up yet another stupid European booking last night. For a captain of Celtic and Scotland, this sort of indiscipline is unacceptable.

 

 

 

NOW, I turn to Rangers. Naw, the activities around the Tribute Act are simply no longer worth commenting on.

Germany Is Behind Us - Time To Get Georgia On Our Minds

BEING a greedy bar steward, had I been offered a 2-1 defeat by Germany, before the game, I would have kicked it into touch; I would have accepted a 1-1 draw, however. Still, the realist in me understands, a 2-1 loss in Germany will be a better result than most of the other contenders in our Euro group will get, indeed, it might prove to be the best result any visitors will get against the overwhelming group favourites.

 

Again, being realistic, in this group, we expect Germany to clinch the automatic qualifying place, the play-off place will come down, in the view of most commentators to a three-way fight between us, the Irish and the Poles.

 

Gibraltar we can all but discount, when it comes to the qualifying places, between the various groups, those countries such as Scotland, who are in a six-countries group, will be obliged to drop our results against the sixth country.

 

So, while Poland has set the bench at beating Gibraltar at seven goals, in the long run, should we fail to match this, it might not count too-much against us.

 

The tgwo games about which I worry are those against Georgia. An otherwise excellent qualifying gorup under Alex McLeish was fatally wounded by a bad loss in Georgia - we must guard against a repeat. The Georgians are the opponents who worry me, I think the games against the Irish and the Poles will take care of themselves.

 

Good to see Darren fletcher back, by the way. And, is it me, or, does the fact they get away with murder in the Scottish League, where referees seem scared to book them for stupidity, tell against Old Firm players when playing for Scotland?

 

I ask this following Charlie Mulgrew's totally-stupid and unnecessary red card in Dortmund.

 

 

 

MEANWHILE, back at the ranch, my erstwhile colleagues in the mainstream media in Scotland have returned to their favourite subject - the King over the water.

 

I have been saying since this whole Ibrox soap opera kicked-off. King is a sideshow. Given his track record - and his criminal one - Rangers should, lang syne, have told him to take a long hike. If they will not, then the SFA has to, by making it clear, he cannot meet the fit and proper person test and, while there is nothing to stop him investing in the Tribute Act, which, as far as I am aware, he has yet to do; He cannot be allowed into an executive position with the club.

 

 

 

 

I Believe

I AM a Baby Boomer, a member of that generation of people, conceived in the rush of end-of-the-war, back-to-normality carnality, who went on to endorse the mini-skirt, long hair, rock and roll, invent sex, on 16 October, 1964, and generally bring ruination and damnation on Western culture.

 

We didn't have to do National Service, so, "they" couldn't prise us into nice little boxes - it's been downhill ever since.

 

We started to become interested in football during that now long-ago decade when the Scots were the imports of choice into the English League, when Europe was a huge adventure, just beginning. We started in a game in which all boots were brown, hard-toed, went above our ankles, had leather, hammered-in studs, and had to be dubbined.

 

The first real ball we got was also brown, it was assembled, in a factory in Dumbarton Road, Glasgow, by stitching together T-shaped panels, it had a lace and, if you happened to head the lace, you kent a' aboot it.

 

It was a different world, in which the Old Firm didn't win all the trophies, every year, crowds were huge, and they stood, and Hampden really roared.

 

The Scotland team could attract 130,000-plus fgans to Hampden to see them take-on England; there was no television in Scotland before 1952 and Alex Ferguson was still living in Govan.

 

Back then, as I began to follow football, Scotland actually reached the World Cup finals. In 1954, we were drawn in what would today be dubbed "The Group of Death", with Austria, Uruguay, the World Champions and Czechoslovakia - the Czech Republic and Slovakia then being one country.

 

We were unlucky to lose 1-0 to the Austrians, then got hammered 7-0 by Uruguay, we didn't bother playing the Czechs, waste of time really.

 

Austria finished third, Uruguay fourth, so, at least we didn't lose to a couple of diddy teams.

 

West Germany as they then were, won that World Cup, winning what is now, in German folklore, a game known as: "The Miracle of Berne", in which they beat the seemingly unbeatable Hungarian team of Ferenc Puskas and Co.

 

Scotland's international team, at that time, usually went on an end-of-season tour of Europe. In 1955, we drew with a very good Yugaslav team in Belgrade, hammered the Austrians in Vienna, then gave the Hungarians a massive fright, before losing in Budapest. The SFA's International Committee, the guys who benefitted most from these European tours - a nice we jolly to foreign climes on the SFA expense account, didn't fancy such a trip in 1956 and in 1957, well, there was a bit more seriousness to the European tour.

 

We had just thrashed a Spanish team, which had a forward line of Miguel, Kubala, Di Stefano, Suarez and Gento, which not even Real Madrid and Manchester United combined could afford at today's prices, at Hampden to head our World Cup qualifying group.

 

We then headed to Basle, where a brace of goals from Jackie Mudie and Bobby Collins saw us home against the Swiss. Mudie, by the way, had scored a hat-trick against the Spanish.

 

Next stop was Stuttgart, and a game with the World Champions, which drew 80,000 fans on a Wednesday afternoon. Germany was rebuilding towards the 1958 World Cup finals and put-out something of an experimental team, containing just one of the World Cup-winning XI; but, that player was "Der Boss", Helmut Rahn, the Rot-Weiss Essen forward who had become a national hero with his two goals in the "Miracle of Berne".

 

Scotland made a couple of changes from the team which had won in Basle three days before, resting skipper George Young of Rangers and veteran winger Gordon Smith of Hibs, with Bobby Evans of Celtic and Alex Scott of Rangers coming in.

 

The German fans were shocked as, playing classic Scottish along the ground, pass-and-move football, Scotland took control and the Wee Barra, Collins, firted them in front in 20-minutes, with Mudie scoring his fifth goal in three games in 33 minutes, to make it 2-0 to Scotland at half-time.

 

Collins made it 3-0 after 54 minutes, before the whistling in disgust of the home fans fired-up the Germans. Rahn proceeded to give big John Hewie of Charlton a torrid time down the right and big Tam Younger in the Scottish goal had to be at his best to keep them out.

 

Ian McColl and skipper Tommy Docherty, who had ran the midfield in the first half, were pushed further back; Evans played a blinder in his unaccustomed centre-half role, and with Eric Caldow and the hard-pressed Hewie also defending well, the Scots held-out.

 

Gerhard Siedl grabbed a consolation goal for the Germans in 70-minutes, but that was as close as they could get and the match finished in a 3-1 win for Scotland.

 

Now, I am under no illusions about this Sunday's game between the two countries. Germany, even without their stars such as skipper Lahm who have retired after Brazil, should still be too-strong for us.

 

We will start an under-dogs, but, wewere under-dogs in 1957. Then, as now, a thrawn, red-headed midfielder was running things for Scotland, so, who says we cannot win again.

 

This is Scotland after all - we have a track record when it comes to beatng reigning World Champions.

 

BELIEVE.