GILBERT & Sullivan, in their comic operas of the Victorian era, always included a character, to illustrate the absurdities of the way the Establishment went about things - the Major General in 'The Pirates of Penzance' and the First Lord of the Admiralty in 'HMS Pinafore' being good examples.
The First Lord had "polished that handle so carefully that now I am the ruler of the Queen's navee", while the Major General's grasp of military tactics "had only been brought up to the beginning of the century".
I got to thinking about these two comic caricatures last night, as I digested Aberdeen's and St Johnstone's results in Europe. Now, Armenia and Macedonia are, in Scottish football terms: two small, far-away countries, of which we know little. We are Scotland - the football Master Race, the nation which taught the world the passing game, the Greatest Wee Nation God Ever Put Breath Intae, Scotland the Brave and all that other shite. Aye Right.
We are a small, third-tier European nation with delusions of grandeur and our best footballing days behind us. We haven't punched above our weight in Europe for 30-years, strutted the world stage, albeit we were bit-part players, for 20-years (by the time the next World Cup comes around) and the days are long gone since drawing a Scottish club in Europe sent a shiver of uncertainty, far less fear, up the spines of all but the smallest of European minnows.
At least, Aberdeen got through, courtesy of a disciplined defensive display and a superb late save from their on-loan English goalkeeper, but, for St Johnstone - failure to beat ten men, at home, well, that's a bad night at the office by any standards.
I don't have a feeling of confidence about Aberdeen's chances in the next round; simply getting into Europe has been a terrific achievement for Inverness CT, but, I don't honestly see them going far, while, for all their domestic successes, I don't see Celtic - the one horse in our one-horse top division - being Classic contenders this season.
Still, the Hampden blazers will still turn-up, consume the buffet food, speak of great things, of a better tomorrow and do everything they can to prevent this better tomorrow happening.
If Gilbert & Sullivan were around today, they'd have great inspiration from watching events in Hampden's corridors of power.
RE-ORGANISATION is, I see, back on the agenda (well, the let's talk about it one) for Scottish football. It may well happen, particularly if, as I sense they might, the next version of the Rangers Tribute Act proves to be as successful as the last incarnation in navigating their way out of the Championship this season.
I am starting to get the impression, the "Real Rangers Men" now steering the ship are just as likely to hit a financial iceberg as the Fake Rangers men they have supplanted. If Alan Stubbs can instil some real belief in his troops, and Ian Murray get as much out of the St Mirren full-timers as he got out of his Dumbarton part-timers last season, well, maybe the RTA will again fail to win promotion.
For the long-term good of the Ibrox club, this would be no bad thing, in my opinion, but, another year without the RTA in the top flight just might be too-much for the other clubs to contemplate, which will mean hurriedly implemented and ill-thought-out change.
Given the men in the blazers who stalk Hampden's corridors of power have time and again proved themselves incapable of organising a piss-up in a brewery, can anyone honestly say they detect new intelligence and ability therein? I cannot.
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