It's Time Fitba Entered the 21st Century

THIS IS A BEE which I have had in my bunnet for some time now – but isn't it about time IFAB – The International Football Associations Board – FIFA's ultimate body as regards the Laws of the Game – earned its keep and made those Laws suitable for the game in the 21^st century.

If we take 1863, when the Football Association was formed, as Year Zero for The Beautiful Game, then we've been playing the game for 163 years. In that time, it has changed to such a degree, those Victorian age pioneers who started things off, transported via time travel to watch a top league or international game today would be dumb-struck by what they saw.

The basic concept, they could still understand – the idea of the game being to propel the ball, mainly by foot, downfield to score goals by placing that ball into the appropriate goal. But, I dare say they would struggle to cope with the players' kit, the ball, some of the tactics, certainly the attitude of the players: while I fear the concept of VAR would be beyond them.

Over these 163 years there have been countless instances of what we might call “Shuffling deckchairs on the Titanic” but, no genine case of the game's rulers making a determined effort to introduce Association Football 2:0. I believe that time is now.

Perhaps the biggest talking point in Scottish Fitba at the moment is what some people are calling: “Celtic Time” - the way the defending Champions keep scoring winning or equalising goals in time added-on. Indeed there is even a social media meme which shows the Fourth Official holding up the board indicating how much time added-on will be played, that board reads: “Till Celtic score”.

This is nothing new in the game, it used to be, in England, time added-on was known as: “Fergie Time” due to the number of times Alex Ferguson's Manchester United would pull matches out of the fire after the clock ticked past 90 minutes.

Ninety minutes (to halves of 45 minutes each) has been the official time which a football match lasts, since Victorian days. Perhaps, more than 150 years into the evolution of the game, it is time for change.

The English Premier League takes careful note of statistics. The average top-tier English game, from kick-off to final whistle, lasts on average, 109 minutes; yet, the ball is in play for only 55 minutes. Effectively, for nearly half the time the game lasts, nothing significant is happening.

When you consider how much match tickets, programmes, food and drink in the ground costs, this is barely value for money.

Why not do what is the norm in North American sport and switch to Ball In Play Time? In sports such as American Football or Ice Hockey each game lasts 60 minutes, but, that represents 60 minutes of actual play; when the ball (or puck) goes out of play, or is “dead” or when play is being re-started after a goal, the clock stops and doesn't restart until the referee blows.

Football could also take a hint from other games, wherein when play stops, it has to resume within a certain time. In Rugby Union, for instance, the ball has to be put into a scrum or line out within 30 seconds of the game stopping, while place kickers taking a penalty goal or conversion also have to do so within a set time.

I would reckon, going to ball in play time would necessitate the use of specialist time keepers, perhaps even with a secondary time keeper to adjudicate in the time it might take to restart play. Football at the top level could easily afford this. The introduction of official time keepers would free-up referees from time-keeping to concentrate on actual play.

Why not also taking another cue from Rugby Union. There, when the 80 minutes match time expires, the game does not automatically end until the ball goes dead – introducing this would go some way towards ending the controversies over time added-on.

 

The Diddy Teams Can Entertain Too

SATURDAY was a good day for the (paper) roses, as Neil McCann and Billy Dodds got their first win as the Kilmarnock management team. This was a huge boost to all us worried Rugby Parkers, who had began to fear the tide would never turn. Now – hopefully – it's onwards and upwards in a spring surge.

I watched Hearts demolish Dundee United on TV on Saturday night. I have to say, they played some impressive fitba and thoroughly deserved their win. I couldn't help wondering what Jim McLean might have made of United's display – which was nothing short of disgraceful.

Their first red card was maybe unfortunate, but the second boy deserved to go for sheer stupidity. Clearly a “Dundee Kiss” has nothing like the velocity and sheer anger of the “Glasgow” version; however, he had to go for sheer stupidity. Mind you, had I been the referee, I would have been thinking of a yellow card for the Hearts' player – for “over-acting”.

Good to see age has not mellowed Dave Bowman, who was also red-carded. I have interviewed Dave, and you couldn't meet a nicer fellow, however, when the whistle blows, he still shows how he was deeply immersed in the Jim McLean culture.

FOLLOWING NEARLY a decade on the Paisley Daily Express Sports Desk, during which Love Street became almost a second home to me, I still, a quarter of a century on, have a soft spot for the Buddies.

Watching Saints squander chance after chance at home to Hearts on Tuesday night, I kept waiting for the ten-man visitors to break out and snatch a 1-0 win – that's a movie I have seen too often in the past. Never mind the Superstars – Gerry Baker, Gunni Torfason, Frank McAvennie, Frank McDougall or Frank McAvennie; with merely competent chance-takers such as Basher Lavety or Mark Yardley up front. In fact, I'd have backed the likes of Chris Iwelumo (pictured below) or even Junior Mendes to have had the Buddies home and hosed by half time.

However, in the end, Stephen Robertson got the win he desperately needed, even if, in the process, he added oxygen to the Championship hopes of the Bigot Brothers and made life a bit more difficult for my own redemption hopes for Kilmarnock.

ONE ASPECT of Tuesday night's game, which did concern me, was this: St Mirren only had two Scotsmen in their starting line-up, Hearts had four. This means, 72% - nearly three-quarters of the starters in a top-flight Scottish League game were non-Scots.

To my mind, a domestic league which allows this and a national governing body which allows that league to so ignore local talent is guilty of total dereliction of duty. These figures are a disgrace.

In my last wee piece above, I mentioned my near decade covering St Mirren, in that time, for all but a couple of seasons, the Buddies were in the old First Division, now The Championship; yet they still produced the following players for various Scottish age group teams (and apologies if I miss anyone out, I'm working from memory here):

Alan Combe, Derek Scrimgeour, Martin Baker, Chris Kerr, Sergei Baltacha, David McNamee, Burton O'Brien, Jamie Fullarton, Brian Hetherston, Hugh Murray, Steven McGarry, Chris Iwelumo, Ricky Gillies, and David Milne. They still had Basher at that time, plus Norrie McWhirter, perhaps the unluckiest player in Scottish football history in that injuries kept under-mining his undoubted class and talent.

The St Mirren team I covered had a central core of Paisley boys, this had always been the club's way. Today, a genuine Buddie in the squad is a rarity and for all their status as a top division club, I wonder if the home fans are truly happy with this situation.

I'm not having a go at Saints here, they are just one of too-many Scottish clubs who have decided to almost ignore native talent in a vain bid to close the gap on the Big Two. I think this buying in non-Scottish talent is the wrong tactics; what the other clubs should be doing is levelling-up the playing field by insisting on a CBA – a Collective Bargaining Agreement – by the rest getting together to stand up to the Big Two and by insisting on the implementation of Chick Young's Eight Diddies Rule – to pro-actively encourage native talent; then maybe we would be getting somewhere.