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Sunday 31 August 2014

SHOW ME THE MONEY!

Remember when you were going home from primary school and you'd hear the cry, 'Fight!'? Everybody would run to watch and there'd nearly be more fights as folk elbowed each other out of the way to get the best vantage point. Sometimes you'd get there just in time to see somebody crying and the other person standing triumphant, receiving the plaudits of his mates. It's a primal thing and if you get a gang fight on the street you can be sure that everyone that lives on that street is watching with the lights out so as not to be conspicuous.

Like I said, it's a primal thing and, unfortunately, that's what Scottish football means to most folk. More specifically, that's what the Old Firm derby meant to most folk. Celtic vs Rangers games were broadcast around the world and could attract bigger TV audiences than Champions League finals. The problem was that nobody was watching it for the skill on display; which was just as well since it was often severely lacking. No. What everyone wanted was blood. Referees getting hit with coins, pitch invasions, fans, and even players, kicking lumps out of each other, managers squaring up to each other and moronic players trying to start a riot among the crowd; that's what the worldwide audience wanted to see. If it turned out to be a normal game, with no trouble, you could virtually hear the huge sigh of disappointment rising up to the heavens.

The game is missing its edge, we are told. The excitement has gone. But, really, is that the kind of 'excitement' and 'edge' we want in our game? The rest of the world would nod their heads; they want a gladiatorial show that they can tut-tut and shake their heads at in hypocritical self-righteousnes. Going back to the fights at school, I only ever saw one fight at St. Margaret Mary's Secondary in the three years I was there. I had not been at the school long when there was a fight outside the gates at four o'clock one day. The usual crowd gathered round, but instead of cheering on their favourite, they all proceded to spit all over the two comabatants. This, apparently, was what usually happened when there was a fight. No wonder there were very few public fights and no wonder I never saw another one!

This is analogous to the Old Firm matches. Everybody watched them, patiently waiting for bloodshed, and ready to condemn it when it arrived. An Old Firm game was viewed as just a fight with a ball in the middle and, just like the pupils at the Big Maggie's, they were all ready to spit all over us. Other Scottish matches were just 'boring' in comparison and nobody was the slightest bit interested.

So what is the game going to come to? Are we going to pander to the Lowest Common Denominator and hanker after the TV money, playing the fool for the rubber neckers? Or are we going to rebuild our game from scratch? Believe it or not, rebuilding from scratch is exactly where we are at the moment.

'Where's all the money gone?' is this moment's big cry. The answer is easy: it was never there in the first place. Remember how in the 90s we all used to moan about how stingy Fergus McCann was, not spending to keep pace with Rangers? Even into the early years of this century the board at Celtic was castigated for not spending big. The fact of the matter is that the money simply wasn't there to do it. At the time we didn't know that Rangers were spending money that they didn't have. They were in debt to the tune of £100m, which had to be absorbed by MIH. Also absorbed by MIH was the loss incurred by the disastrous share issue as well as other debts. And yet Mr Dignity and Dick Advocaat continued to spend like there was no tomorrow. Now we know how they did it and the whole thing ended in tears. The tax payer is lumbered  with trying to get money back from the bankrupt MIH while Rangers itself went belly-up.

Look at what happened to Hearts, Dunfermline and other clubs. All they tried to do was to keep up and nearly died doing it. With hindsight we can see that Celtic did the right thing and we still have the same club with its history intact and unbroken. Realising that, why is everybody now shouting for Celtic to start spending again? The Nineties and Noughties were a fairy tale, an illusion, and we need to get the game back to where it was and should have been building from. It's going to take patience but it needs to be done. Either that or Celtic just throws in its lot with the Ibrox mob and we give the telly people what they want. Which would you prefer?

Peter Lawwell pointing out the money that Celtic has missed out on due to the disappearance of Rangers is not an endorsement of the plan to shoehorn the new club into the SPL two years ago. It's simply stating the fiscal reality of the current situation. The Peeppul, however, see it as some kind of mea culpa and are frothing at the mouth over it. "See! See! Wae telt yez an' yez widnae listen. Scotland needs a strong Raynjurz. Even Lawwell's admittin' it noo!" That, however, is what historians call a right load of pish! It seems, though, that the Ibrox board is being taken in by this argument as well.

How else do you explain the fact that they're still signing players when they can barely scrape together a shilling for the meter? It makes no sense unless you look at The Peeppul's reaction to what Lawwell said. Who needs to worry about going bust when you can just start again and pretend that nothing's happened? And this time they'll expect their new team to go straight into the top tier. Scottish football needs Raynjurz. After all, didn't Peter Lawwell say so himself?

Meanwhile the Better Together campaign is getting more and more desperate. Somebody threw an egg at Jim Murphy as he stood on a soapbox peddling his shite. The Daily Record was on hand to get a picture of the perpetrator, and even circled the hand holding the egg for the hard-of-thinking. Now, you would think, wouldn't you, that the law-abiding photographer would inform one of the police officers, who must have been present, that they guy had an egg in his hand and it was doubtful that it was part of a packed lunch. But, not a bit of it. This casts some doubt on the whole scenario. Also suspicious is that fact that nobody in Murpy's camp has been in touch with the police to make a complaint against the individual, whose ugly mug is there for all to see. Murphy did, however, cancel a couple of speaking engagements on the advice of the boys in blue. You don't think the whole thing was a set-up, do you? Surely our politicians wouldn't stoop so low?

McMurdo and his acolytes are all over the story, claiming that intimidation is the chosen tactic of the YES campaign etc etc. Remind me, which country is the only country in the world at the moment to have raised the level of alertness of an imminent attack? I'd certainly call that intimidation. And what about the plans for The Peeppul to spread their bile in Edinburgh in the run-up to the referendum? If that's not intimidation then I don't know what is. A few nasty comments on Twitter is hardly in the same league, is it?

McMurdo and his disciples also claim that the YES campaign's 'intimidatory tactics' have been learned from Irish Republicans. They're all against democracy, apparently. Remind me, when a democratically-elected (or as near to democratic as you got at the time) government, with a clear mandate for Irish Home Rule, tried to put through the measure, who bought weapons from Germany to fight against it? When peaceful demonstrations took place for civil rights in Ulster in the 1960s, who responded with violence? Who escalated said violence by attacking innocent people in their own homes? And who has made many veiled threats of violent resistance to a democratically-chosen independent Scotland? I rest my case, M'Lud!

And staying with the referendum, I think Alex Salmond should send a vote of thanks to the Bisto Kids for their banner yesterday, which advocated a NO vote. That should immediately send all decent-minded, undecided people into the YES camp!




"Here, Ah hope thur no' gonnae sell any-y ma star players tae raise money, 'n 'at!"


Nothing at all to worry about there, my dear Alistair! Nobody wants them and even if they did they'd be lucky to raise the price of a Pensioner's Pony and a packet of Cheese 'n' Onion!


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