Socrates MacSporran

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

Sunday 30 September 2018

Methinks The Press Doth Protest Over-Much

PERHAPS few issues have exposed the paucity of thinking in the mainstream media in Scotland in this year of our Lord 2018 than this week's shitstorm over the decision to hold both Betfred Cup semi-finals, at Hampden on the same day.

 The Betfred Cup logo

I accept, there are several controversial issues surrounding the timing of the two games, but, in one particular point, I believe the tiny minds within the various msm sports desk teams have been guilty of hysterical over-reaction. That point is the basic one of the logistics of putting-on both games, in the same stadium on the same day.

The argument that this will cause carnage is a ridiculous one. Sure, two of the four clubs have a somewhat large lunatic fringe among their following. The other two also have small groups of loonies who might not be out-loonied by the massed ranks against them, but, by and large, the ordinary fan just wants to get in and out of the game relatively quickly.

Back when I was a boy and young man, I was one of over 130,000 fans who could get in and out of Hampden without problems for Scotland v England games. I have been to Scottish Cup finals with bigger attendances than what will be the aggregate attendance of both games on Sunday, 28 October.

IF, and I will wager now, this will not happen, IF both games were sell-outs, and everyone with a ticket turned up, there would be a maximum of 104,000 inside the ground on the one day. If Police Scotland cannot come up with an arrangement that allows this to happen, then they are incompetent.

And PS are certainly not that, anywhere other than in the imagination of the wilder minds among the political points-scoring ranks of the Scottish Conservative and Unionist Party and the British Labour Party in Scotland – who will, in any case, blame anything which goes wrong on the SNP government.

Let's look at the timings:

  • The gates are usually opened an hour before kick-off, occasionally this happens 90 minutes prior. So, the Hampden gates will open at 10.30am for the first match – giving 90 minutes in which to get a maximum of 52,000 fans inside the ground.

  • The match will last, allowing for injuries and a celebratory lap of honour – approximately two hours. It should be over by 2pm – 2.30pm even.

  • This means, the ground should be cleared after Match 1, five and a quarter-hours before the second match kicks off.

  • Allowing for the gates being opened 90 minutes before Match 2 kicks-off (at 6.15pm) there is a three and three-quarter hour fallow window between games.

One potential cause of friction might be, if the first game goes to extra time and penalties. If that was to happen, that window between games would be shrunk by an hour, to two and three-quarter hours.

OK, not a lot of time in which to get the free-loaders out of the corporate hostility section of the ground and the area re-dressed for the second shift. But, it could be done.

Similarly, the back stage staff would have to get a move on, to clean-up the dressing rooms etc between the games.

These are, as I see them, the real potential problems, none of which cannot be overcome. Everything else is white noise.

However, you still have to wonder how we arrived at such a pr disaster for football. I mean, to me the simplest way out would be, to hold-over the second game to Monday night. Or, was that too-obvious?

 Neil Doncaster - he was the messenger, not the message writer

And another thing, all this abuse being hurled at poor old Neil Doncaster. Neil runs the SPFL secretariat - their civil service if you like. It is his, and his team's job to come-up with plans and suggestions, solutions to problems.

Which he and his team then have to place before the SPFL board for final approval. It is not Neil Doncaster who has decided what is to be done - it is the Board members who make the final decisions.

So, don't shoot the monkey and let the organ grinders off Scot free.

 


Friday 21 September 2018

We're Shite, But We Still Refuse To Admit We Are

COURTESY of my BT Sport account, I enjoyed an orgy of fitba last night, watching the Rangers and Celtic Europa League games back to back. Well, actually, I fell asleep during the first half of the Celtic game, but, that was hardly surprising.

 Allan McGregor - the one Rangers Class player they have

The fact is, had I not allowed my membership to lapse about 20-years ago, I'd be drummed-out of the Scottish Football Writers Association for saying this, neither of the two standard-bearers for Scottish fitba is, at the moment, much good.

I did not expect much from Rangers. Steven Gerrard's side is very much a work in progress. The cruel fact is, apart from Allan McGregor, I doubt if my late father would have considered any of last night's squad to have been “Rangers Class.” However, given the way the club has been mismanaged for the last decade, we need not be surprised at that.

Rangers played second fiddle to their Spanish hosts for most of the game, but, where they were Rangers class was in their determination not to give up, and they got their reward with a draw. To get a point when you have played second fiddle for most of the game is a good result by any standards.

I have no great expectations from Rangers in Europe this season. Anything better than third in the group will be a bonus in my view.

Gerrard's team will get better, and last night, they took a fairly-significant step in the right direction.

NOW we turn to Celticist narrow win over Rosenberg. Long before Brendan Rodgers finally turned to his ace-in-the-hole: Leigh Griffiths, I was saying to myself: “The only way Celtic can win this is to get wee Leigh on, he will score.” Rodgers put him on – he scored.

He may come across as a wee nyaff - but, he can score goals, so, I would play him

Celtic Park on European nights is made for a Seventh Cavalry bugler sounding the charge, for harum-scarum, helter-skelter, non-stop aggression – not the two passes sideways, one pass back, play which Celtic used to put me to sleep in the first half.

Unfortunately, while Jock Stein knew he could throw eight men forward, and rely on Big Billy and Wee John to keep the door to Ronnie Simpson's goal firmly bolted, Brendan Rodgers does not have that luxury.

He is also minus a genuine midfield play-maker, able to make the “killer” pass. And, while I accept, he can still be a major player in domestic Scottish football, I think Scott Brown's days are past in Europe. That said, replacing him will not be easy.

Celtic have been “flat” all season – they are certainly vulnerable, both at home and more-so in Europe this season.

But, as long as they have Griffiths, you can never write them off. He gives the impression of being a thoroughly unlikeable chap: petted lip, chip on both shoulders, a storm looking for a tea cup. However, he will score goals for you.

WHILE I am in critical mode – what about the fans last night? The small Rangers following in Spain lived up to their reputation. The may have dropped the letters F, T and P from their vocal repertoire, but: up to their knees in Fenian blood, they were still not for surrendering their reputation as: “A constant embarrassment and occasional disgrace.”

Still, we expect nothing less from Ra Peep; their sense of entitlement has lang syne convinced them, they have a licence to embarrass themselves and Scotland, all over the world.

But, last night, when I woke-up for the second half at Celtic Park, I was more aware of the pro-IRA singing than I have been for some time. Of course, their elders and “betters” such as James Kelly MSP, have convinced the lunatic fringe of the Celtic following that, there is now no such thing as Offensive Behaviour at Football, so they can sing what they like.

How I long for the day when both clubs will root-out their quarter-wits, but I fear I will never see that day, the lunatics have been running the asylums for too long.



I WAS intrigued by a wee headline on the BBC Sport Scotland web page this morning. Apparently the SPFL's Premier Division clubs and the English Premiership clubs have been lobbying the Westminster government for a wee bit of leeway in the Brexit negotiations – which would ensure they could still import lots of foreign talent, after the UK exits the EU.

Maybe it's time for the FA and the SFA to grow a pair and tell their spendthrift, over-hyped top leagues: “No guys, it's maybe time you stopped buying foreign and started being home-grown and self-sufficient.”

Because, I am still convinced, nothing would get Scottish football (I don't give a shite for the English game) back closer to football's top table, than encouraging home-grown Scottish talent.

My old mate Chico - I'd bring-in his eight diddies rule

Bring back Chick Young legendary “eight daddies” rule and let's see more Scots playing.



ANOTHER contentious point in the news this week is the ongoing debate about VAR in Scottish football.

As we all know, the problem with using new technology in settling sporting arguments is – the human element. I accept, even John McEnroe has come round to loving tennis's technological solution to the question of a ball being in or out, but, that is far-more straight-forward than either rugby's use of Television Match Officials (TMOs) or football's use of VAR.

If Hawk eye says: “In” or “Out”, that's it – you cannot argue with a machine. But you can and will argue with a TMO or a VAR team, because, they include the human element, and humans aint error-proof.

For the SFA and the SPFL to claim they cannot afford to implement VAR is absurd. They will surely find, they cannot afford not to. Mind you, I think they'll be OK, I believe there are enough old referees in the ranks of the Old Firm's joint support, to ensure, the “right” decisions are arrived at.

The SFA is making-out, they cannot afford to bring in VAR. Truth is, they cannot afford not to.

Tuesday 11 September 2018

Hampden Is Saved But Don't Expect Immediate Action On An Upgrade: These Things Take Time

HAMPDEN is saved, hallelujah! Praise the Lord and pass the screw top Shuggie. So, what next? The £60 million question (at least).

 For how much longer will Hampden look like this?

Old traditionalist that I am, and notwithstanding I have an affinity with and affection for Rugby Union, having shed blood in a few scrums in my time; I am pleased the SFA spurned the advances of the SRU, fitba at Murrayfield just didn't seem right somehow.

I am also happy the deal will allow Queen's Park to make the short move to Lesser Hampden, which I trust they will redevelop as a twenty-first century home for the club without which, there would not be international, far less Scottish football.

I only ever covered one Queen's Park game, at Hampden, more than a decade ago – Queen's Park v Gretna, at the time that shooting star from the borders were on their way up. I can honestly say, those Queen's Park members and their ladies whom I encountered in the tea room at half-time (the best half-time spread I have ever had by the way), were the nicest people I have met in football.

They deserve the chance to enjoy a spruced-up McAlpine Pavilion and a 21st century Lesser Hampden. Of course, we can never put a preservation order on the Spiders, but, I hope they continue to do their idiosyncratic thing in our game for a long, long time to come.

But, to the deal which has offered hope for Hampden. Am I alone in thinking – there was maybe a kind of: “Up yours Celtic,” about Willie Haughey's brilliant gesture in stepping-in with the wee cash boost which sealed the deal.

Willie is currently perhaps out of favour with the ruling regime at Celtic Park; and I still feel Celtic were maybe hoping to profit from the doubts over Hampden – so Willie's incursion into events was perhaps opportune. Or am I seeing conspiracy theories where none exist?

Sir Tom Hunter - forget saving Hampden Tom, the Glen and Loch Park should be your fitba priority

I am less-sure about Sir Tom Hunter's reported involvement in securing the funding. Hampden is all very well Tom, but, your first fitba priority has to remain Glenafton Athletic and Loch Park – never forget that.

We will not, of course, regardless of the hysterical: “We want to see some action now,” pieces from the usual suspects – aye you Tom English - see the Caterpillars and JCBs moving-in next week. Re-modelling Hampden into a 21st century sporting centre of excellence will be a lengthy job. Any work done between now and 2020 will be purely cosmetic, but, having seen the last refurbishment badly botched, the SFA will want to get it right this time. I fervently hope they succeed. Let's just step back and give them space.



MEANWHILE, on the park, things are looking up following our 2-0 win over Albania on Monday night. Let's hope this is the first of our two steps forward, while acknowledging, the backward step will not be too-far up the road. This is how it has always been with the national side.

I admit, I haven't quite got my head round all the regulations between the Europa Nations League and the next European Championships, but, I do know, if we win Group 1 of League C, it more or less guarantees us our seat at the big show in 2020, while it definitely gets us promoted into League B and back among the top 24 nations in Europe.

Right now, we are a Third Division side among the nations of this continent – at least getting back to the Second Division has to be the first priority. At the moment, after the first round of matches, Scotland, Finland in Group Two, Bulgaria in Group Three and Montenegro in Group Four, are the four nations in the promotion places in League C. But, while a lot can change over the other rounds of fixtures, let's hope we stay in contention. We ought to.



SOME TIME ago, I was writing a piece about the original Wembley Wizards, the 1928 vintage. This got me a couple of days trying to stay focussed while trawling through the wonderful microfiche newspaper files in the Mitchell Library in Glasgow – a marvellous national treasure trove, not least because one of my daughters earns her daily crust there.

The Daily Record of 2 April, 928, which printed the Monday morning post-match reaction yielded one nugget – of how a huge cheer rang round Ibrox when the score from Wembley was announced.

The Wembley Wizards: while they were thrashing England, it was business as usual back up the road

You see, while Alan Morton was playing his part in that great 5-1 win in London, Tom Hamilton, Dougie Gray, Davie Meiklejohn, Sandy Archibald, Andy Cunningham, Jimmy Fleming and Bob McPhail – the other stars of the Rangers team of the time were, in front of 18,000 fans, beating Clyde 3-1 in a league game.

The Wizards XI, of course, was choc-a-bloc with Anglo-Scots, but, the fact Scotland was playing in London did not mean, as happens today, a blanket shut-down of the league programme. It was business as usual for the clubs, with Dr James “Doc” Marshall filling-in for the Wee Blue Devil at outside left for Rangers against Clyde – one of just six first-team appearances: which yielded six goals, that the good doctor – then combining football with his medical studies at Glasgow University - made that season.

I must admit, I cannot get my head round this current fashion for cancelling everything for internationals, particularly when, as was the case at the weekend – the international match in question was a Friday night friendly.

If our clubs have to have their bloated squads, why should they not have to play some of the lesser lights, when the big boys are on international duty. You, ideally, want to build momentum at the start of a new season. What help in this therefore is it when, after two or three games, you shut down for a week so the top guys can go off on international duty?

In rugby, Glasgow Warriors, even with 20 players on international duty, are still expected to fulfil league fixtures, why should the same not apply to Celtic and Rangers? You have squads – utilise them and play the bread and butter games.


Wednesday 5 September 2018

Gaun Yersel Lassies

I WILL freely admit, it has been difficult to blog about Scottish football of late. Sure, a new season has kicked-off since I last put down my thoughts on the beautiful game, but, in Scotland, the big kick-off has been somewhat muted – a case of same old, same old.

 

 Shelley Kerr - She and her Lassies did us proud


It's all about the Bigot Brothers, as far as the increasingly shrunken mainstream media is concerned – a not very good Celtic team staying ahead of an even less good Rangers team, managed by a big name tyro boss. Which is why, yesterday's tremendous win in Albania for our Women's team gave me such a lift.

Hard-bitten old hack that I am, I suffered agonies in the final minutes as I watched the BBC Alba broadcast of the game. How, I wondered, would the lassies do the Scottish thing and blow it:

  • Might they concede a daft goal and let the Albanians back into it?

  • Might the Polish girls have a collective brain fart and concede to the Swiss?

  • Being Scotland, I could not discount the double whammy of both of the above events happening simultaneously.

But, somehow, in a totally un-Scottish display of grit, determination and professionalism, the lassies held their nerve and got their reward – bloody fantastic, then the tears flowed – it was 1973 all over again.

One would like to think, but, long experience has me doubt this will happen, that, perhaps after yesterday, someone, somewhere along that sixth-floor corridor at Hampden will stop and think: “hey, see what happens when you prioritise the national team over a couple of club sides; maybe we should try that in the men's game.”

Of course, that will not happen, we will continue to see third-rate foreign players and fourth-rate English imports being preferred to home-grown talent. It will be a while, indeed, I would reckon it is more likely that we never see the day when, as with our top girls, male Scottish players are being recruited by the top, well-funded English and continental clubs.

Twenty years ago, I was giving column inches to local girls teams in the sports pages I was putting together. I wrote stories of Scottish girls going off to college in the USA, never thinking we would see our domestic game grow to the extent it has.

The women's game in Scotland still has some ways to travel, but, results such as yesterday's should be celebrated as stops along the way. Shelley Kerr and her girls have given tired auld Scottish fitba a real boost. There is only one adequate Scottish response, that is – gaun yersel' hen.

 Kim Little - The Lawman would have been proud to claim that goal

A final word on the subject – that Kim Little goal which opened the scoring yesterday, that was Law(wo)man-like in its execution. I bet Kim screamed: “Leave it,” as she ran forward to launch her volley.


I FIND myself seriously conflicted this morning. I kind of agree with the Blessed Ruth Davidson MSP, aka “Ruth the Mooth”, “Colonel Yadaftie”, “Buffalo Girl” and several other disparaging nicknames. The North British branch office manager for the Conservative and Unionist Party came out this week in favour of football staying at Hampden, rather than decamping to Murrayfield.

Of course, there is probably a degree of “Nimbyism” in her opposition. The last thing the acceptable face of Unionism wants is the full panoply of the most-extreme form of this, as displayed by the WATP battalions on match days, laid-out in front of her constituents.

I should say, while the C&UP was quite happy to assist the FA to rebuild Wembley, which is after all a stadium of “national” importance, I fear, should the SFA look to the C&UP's UK government for similar largesse in a similar project to bring Hampden into the 21st century, the likely response would be: “Back in your box Sweaties,” and the suggestion they speak to Holyrood.

My further objections to taking football to Murrayfield are based round one fact, I would not trust either The Fat Controller – as SRU Chief Executive Officer Mark Dodson, or The Thin Controller – as Chief Operating Officer Dominic McKay are known to the rugby writers, as far as I could throw either one.

Murrayfield on international match days is a joyous place. OK, some of the more Hooray Henry, Barbour-wearing England fans are best avoided, but, generally, in the several bars around the ground, the fans mix freely and happily, there is great banter and everyone is enjoying themselves.

I can never see this being replicated for say an Old Firm cup final.


WHO I wonder, were the three experienced former referees, who decided Allan McGregor should face no further action for his petulant wee dig at Kristoffer Ajer on Sunday?

McGregor, Ajer and Oor Wullie - after the "afters"

I've heard of three wise monkeys, but, never of three deaf, dumb and blind monkeys. Wee Liam - the “Token Tim” in our otherwise 100% staunch Protestant, Rangers-supporting East Ayrshire village, where, according to legend, the most Union Flags per head of population in Scotland fly – is incandescent with rage at the decision.

They fun an Orangeman, a Mason and a high heid yin in the Blacks (The Royal Black Preceptory) tae make that decision,” was Liam's crie de coeur when the announcement of: “no action” was made.

I might have to offer my services to Steven Gerrard as a specialist goalkeeping coach, to teach McGregor some of the darker arts of our profession, which, at 36, he really ought to be aware of. We goalies can freely “do” opponents in so-many discreet ways, all hidden in plain sight.

One of my cousins, a Springburn boy, playing in goals in an English League game, many years ago, flattened Bobby Gould, fierce centre forward intimidator and clogger of goalkeepers, future Welsh national team manager and father of future Scotland goalkeeper Jonathan, during a game.

Bobby hit him late twice or three time in the first half, and, at half-time, my cousin asked the referee what he was going to do about Gould. On being told: “nothing,” my cousin informed the official: “If he hits me once more, I will deal with him then.”

Sure enough, as he rose for a cross, Gould dug him in the ribs. My cousin landed, tucker the ball under one arm, then laid Gould out with one punch. He then took off his goalkeeper's top and accepted the red card - telling the official: “I told you, if you didn't deal with him, I would.”

He asked for a personal hearing of the disciplinary panel, called the referee in, got him to agree – “Yes, I was told if I didn't deal with Mr Gould, he would deal with him himself,” and was admonished, with nothing worse than the red card staying on his record. The disciplinary committee clearly agreed – Bobby Gould had it coming.