The World is Not Flat

There are those at the SPL, SFA and SFL who still believe the world is flat. They believe that without Rangers in any shape or form Scottish football will sail right off the map.

But will it?

Well, first we might determine what map they think we’re actually on in the first place.

I grew up watching Scotland in every World Cup since 1974. It was a terrible shock to not be competing in the 1994 World Cup in USA. Of course, normal service was resumed in 1998 and we took our rightful place back among the game’s elite.

The 3-0 gubbing from Morocco showed us the game was changing, and so was our place in it.

1998 now seems many lifetimes ago.

We have continued to slip down the rankings at an alarming rate but, you’ll be pleased to know, we’re still just ahead of some of the giants of the game: Libya, Mali, Zambia and our arch nemesis Iran.

In Argentina in 1978 drawing with Iran was a major shock and played a big part in Ally McLeod’s team failing to qualify for the later stages of the World Cup…even though we beat Holland…with that goal. Yes, that one. God bless Archie Gemmell.

No one would bat an eyelid now if Iran beat Scotland.

We are, in the eyes of rest of the world, a diddy team not on any footballing map.

But at least our club sides continue to fly the flag in the European competitions. Well, no, unfortunately those flags are limp and never seem to get by the preliminary qualifiers.

In recent years our provincial clubs who qualify for a shot at Europe usually go out to teams I’ve never even heard of.

Sure, both Celtic and Rangers reached a European final in the last ten years, but the game’s finances, as well as Rangers’, have collapsed since then, making a repeat highly unlikely.

So what are the game’s ruling bodies and the mainstream media trying to protect by bending over backwards to keep Rangers in the top or second top league?

Is it just themselves?

But the game needs a strong Rangers, doesn’t it?

Well, no, not really. If anything the game needs a more level playing field where more clubs have a chance of actually winning the league.

However, there is still a minority who believe the game needs a strong Rangers.

What they really mean is this.

They believe a strong Rangers will stop Celtic from winning the league all the time. Or, to put it bluntly, a strong Rangers will stop the Irishmen winning the league all the time.

When the call first went out for someone to stop the Irishmen it was Rangers who stepped up to the plate and took the challenge.

It was around that time they headed down a path of sectarianism. They weren’t formed with the policy of not signing Catholics. Moses McNeill and his friends loved the game of football, the exercise and fresh air.

Sectarianism was introduced much later to cash in on the growing resentment of an immigrant team being the best in the country.

But, of course, that was 100 years ago. The country has moved on, hasn’t it?

Well, most of us have.

Rangers eventually signed a Catholic in 1989, and many other Catholics have now played for Rangers over the preceding years. I’m sure many of their fans have also moved on from their sectarian past, including, maybe, some of those filmed burning their scarves and season tickets on the day Maurice Johnston signed.

But, unfortunately, many others haven’t. Many still see the Irish immigrants from the East End as outsiders, papists, and tinkers. This sizeable section of supporters believes they are superior to these, and other, immigrants in every way.

This master race attitude has been banished in most countries around the world.

In Germany it was the seed of their own destruction and the lives of many millions.

In South Africa apartheid was shown up for what it was as almost the whole world boycotted South African goods.

In the USA black civil rights have come so far they even have a black president.

In the former Yugoslavia it led to ethnic cleansing.

So why does a large section of Scottish society still think it’s acceptable to adopt a supremacist ‘We Are The People’ attitude in this age of equality, enlightenment and social mobility?

One of the main reasons is their loyalty to the British crown and the Union.

But why are these Scottish citizens so subservient and keen to pay homage to an English monarch? Haven’t they seen Braveheart? Do they not sing Flower of Scotland when Scotland play England? Do they support Scotland? What side would they be on if there was a replay of Bannockburn?

The British monarchy remains one of the last bastions of sectarianism. The head of state is a symbol of Protestantism and anti-Rome power. In what is a remarkable example of discrimination for this modern age, it is still written that no Catholic can hold the position of king or queen of Great Britain.

One reason given for this is that the head of state is also head of the Church of England, and there can’t be a Catholic as head of the Church of England. The monarchy has fought too many battles through history to gift the crown to a Catholic who pays homage to Rome.

This fuels the bigot fire and gives legitimacy to narrow-minded, out-dated views.

Until a Catholic can be head of state in Great Britain they will always be seen by some as outsiders and inferior.

Until a Catholic can be head of state in Great Britain Catholics will view the monarchy with suspicion and disgust…and rightly so.

If a black man can be president of the USA and South Africa then sections of this country need to take a good look at themselves and be honest about what they see.

But what has this got to do with Scotland needing a strong Rangers?

By being the biggest and strongest team in the country Rangers provides legitimacy and a platform for their fans to shout about being superior to other citizens of Scottish society, which is, unfortunately, where they see themselves in relation to others.

In today’s Scotland we have refugees and asylum seekers from all over the world. We are a multicultural society. We are a nation of immigrants. Those who sing about certain segments of society going home because the famine is over are in the minority. They think it is their country and no one else’s.

These same people also prefer to be British rather than Scottish, because Britain’s sectarian monarch policy also keeps them at the top of their imaginary tree, from where they can spend their lives looking down on others.

Well, I’d like to think there’s hope for them waking up one morning and realising how wrong they are to promote discrimination in any form, but I don’t. They lack basic education skills and the ability to learn new ways. Perhaps that’s the fault of the schools, or the parents, or the environment in which they have grown up and become accustomed.

I’d like to think they’d grow out of it, but they won’t. The wannabe terrorists who sent letter bombs to Neil Lennon and Paul McBride were in their forties.

I’d like to think that with Old Rangers gone they wouldn’t have a platform to congregate in large numbers and spout their bile and hate, but I don’t. They will flock to Orange Lodges and march around our cities and towns banging war drums and playing battle tunes.

I don’t believe there is hope for this group of parochial people who think they represent Scottish Protestantism, but there might be hope of a new beginning for a Newco Rangers in whatever shape or form they re-emerge next.

Ironically, the only people who might be able to rid the club of their poisonous element are other Old Rangers fans, but it won’t be easy, and one must wonder if the desire to do so is really there.

Old Rangers are dead. Everyone now knows it, including those players who are walking away instead of signing for Newco.

Newco Rangers need not be a carbon copy of Old Rangers. In fact, if it’s to prosper, it needs to be different, if only for commercial reasons.

The dilemma for Newco Rangers is turning away customers at a time when every penny coming into the club is of vital importance.

Latest owner Charles Green has been vociferous in his requests for funding. He said in the beginning that he doesn’t care where the money comes from. His Newco Rangers aren’t going to survive much longer without a financial injection, but where is it going to come from?

Season ticket sales? Not likely when legends are in the press telling fans not to part with their cash.

It seems likely that his Newco Rangers will enter administration before the new season starts.

Soon we will be on to Rangers Mark 3.

Rangers Mark 3 might have no star players and no stadium or league to play in, but it might be owned by the fans.

So what direction will the fans take the new club? How loud will be the voice of the supremacists and unionists compared to the moderates who only want to support a football team? Will they have an open and honest debate about the direction of the new club, or will it be business as usual, with the moderates afraid to speak out against the bully boys of Follow Follow or Vanguard Bears?

They have sung about how they don’t care that no-one likes them and called the fans of the so-called diddy teams an irrelevance. But, in a tremendous victory of fan power over Murdoch’s coin, those irrelevances have persuaded their respective clubs to vote no to Newco in the SPL.

Maybe if the antagonistic Old Rangers fans change their ways and join some of their own supporters and the rest of us in the twenty-first century they might find they have more friends than enemies the next time they’re in a crisis and needing the help of the diddy clubs.

Unfortunately I wouldn’t hold my breath; too many of them seem to revel in being social pariahs, and most of them will be right behind Rangers Mark 3 as if they’d been following them since the war cries of Bill Struth.

Whatever happens, the good ship Scottish football will continue to sail with or without any form of Rangers. The world is not flat.

Sure, clubs will lose financially and Celtic will stand to lose the most. The playing field will be more level, but will never be even. Some clubs will always be bigger than others due to fan base.

One wonders what size of fan base Rangers Mark 3 might have, and in what direction they will attempt to steer the club. They might find themselves better off with a smaller fan base in Scotland that would make them more palatable to the world beyond their own guarded walls.

One Rule For One?

At six miles long the River Leven isn’t the longest in Scotland, but there was a time when it was the centre of the footballing world.

Anyone who knows a little history of Scottish football will, or should, be aware of the role played by the three teams from the Leven Valley.

Vale of Leven, Dumbarton and Renton were all formed in 1872, the same year as a club from Govan who we’ll talk a bit more of later.

Between them these three clubs won the Scottish Cup six times.

But that pales into insignificance.

If you meet anyone from the Renton they’ll proudly tell you about being the first world champions.

Of course, as football became increasingly popular, as well as professional, it became unsustainable for three teams from such a small area to survive and prosper.

Renton were first to run into trouble, and in the 1897-98 season, unable to meet their financial obligations, they withdrew from the league that they helped set up.

Their last hurrah proved to be a Scottish Cup run in 1906-07 when they defeated St. Bernard’s and Dundee before succumbing to Queens Park in the last sixteen.

They continued to play in minor leagues until 1922 before finally folding.

Vale of Leven dropped out of the professional league after only two seasons. In the second season they didn’t win any of their games and finished last so decided not to apply for re-election.

In 1905 they were allowed into an extended Second Division. Twice, in 1907 and 1909, they finished runners-up, but didn’t get promoted due to not getting enough votes from the other clubs.

They eventually dropped into the junior ranks and have stayed there ever since, winning the Scottish Junior Cup in 1953.

Dumbarton are the only team from the original Leven Valley trio that are still in the professional game.

In fact, it’s fair to say they’ve been doing the local area proud recently.

After a great campaign in the Scottish Second Division they beat Airdrie United in a two leg play-off final and secured promotion to the First Division for the first time in years.

Airdrie United were born after original Airdrie went to the wall through being liquidated. Although they had many financial problems it was the Rangers chairman David Murray who applied for a court order to seize funds from the struggling club. He said at the time, “"I feel very sorry for Airdrie and their supporters but we're running a business. We have given them repeated warnings and felt they were playing on our good nature."

Newco Airdrie United applied for membership to the league but the share was given to Gretna instead. Undeterred, they bought another struggling team’s membership (Clydebank), moved them to Airdrie and renamed them Airdrie United and took Clydebank's place in the Second Division. A precedent was set. If any newco, even if they've been rejected for membership of the league, doesn't want to start at the bottom tier then they can launch a takeover of another club.

Maybe this is why Craig Whyte's people were sniffing around St. Mirren's accounts last season.

Dumbarton’s return to the First Division is a great boost for both the young players in the team and the many hundreds who packed their stadium for the first leg of the play-off final.

It was the first time I’d been to a Dumbarton game for many years, having never even set foot inside their Strathclyde Homes Stadium.

My memories of Dumbarton were all at Boghead.

The great Scottish Cup run of 1976 with wins at home against Partick Thistle and Kilmarnock. Finally defeated 3-0 by Hearts in a semi-final replay at Hampden, helped, funnily enough, by Walter Smith scoring with a flying header…into his own net.

In 1984, needing a point to win promotion to the Premier League, they came back from 2-0 down against Clyde to earn the draw. Their second goal that day still lives with me as one of the greatest goals I’ve witnessed.

In a crowded box the ball was passed around several players without touching the ground before being volleyed home.

The locals went wild and fans flooded onto the pitch at the final whistle.

At the recent play-off a crowd of 1746 packed into the Strathclyde Homes Stadium.

The young supporters provided plenty of vocal support, taunting Airdrie United for being Clydebank in disguise, while the older ones sampled the pies and Bovril and reminisced about past glories.

It might not have been like watching Barcelona, but with a packed ground and something to play for it was a great game.

When the fixture list for next season came out I noticed Dumbarton will start the campaign away to Dundee.

Or will they?

Reports in the mainstream media are promoting the prospect of a Newco being parachuted straight into the First Division, which may mean Dundee moving up a league.

So Dumbarton may end up playing this Newco.

There is a certain amount of irony about this. Dumbarton and Oldco were formed in 1872 and were pioneers of the game in Scotland.

But is it right that a Newco team should not start at the bottom? Why should this Newco team be treated differently from say Renton, Vale of Leven or Airdrie United?

What is the game in this country, a sport or a business?

When Moses McNeill and his buddies formed the original Rangers Football Club they didn’t even have a ground to play on. They played for the love of the game, not to make a quick buck.

Both world champions Renton and Rangers couldn’t meet their financial obligations.

Both triple Scottish Cup winners Vale of Leven and Rangers didn’t get enough votes to play in the top league.

Newco Airdrie United, started  after Oldco Airdrie were liquidated were originally refused admission into any league and had to buy another club to get back in.

It remains to be seen where Newco Rangers will eventually end up, but as sure as the River Leven flows from Loch Lomond into the River Clyde, they will not be treated the same way as Renton or Vale of Leven.

And if they do get parachuted into Division One I hope Dumbarton give them a lesson in both football and dignity.

Lisbon Lions Day

This day is called – the feast of Lisbon Lions Day:

He that plays on this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,

And smile at the name of Jock Stein.

He that outlives this day, and sees old age,

Will yearly on this vigil feast his friends,

And say, “Today is Lisbon Lions Day.”

Then he will hold out his hand, and show his medal,

And say, “This I won on Lisbon Lions Day.”

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember, with advantages,

What feats we did that day. Then shall their names,

Familiar in his mouth as household words, -

Simpson, Craig, Gemmell, Murdoch, and McNeill,

Clark, Johnstone and Wallace,

Chalmers, Auld and Lennox,

Be in their cups freshly remembered.

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Lisbon Lions Day shall ne’er go by

From this day to the ending of the world,

But in it we shall be remembered, -

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

For he who shares Lisbon Lion Day with me,

Shall be my brother, be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And those people at Ibrox, now dead,

Shall think themselves cursed, they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,

That played with us upon Lisbon Lions Day.

Rangers: A Shakespearean Tragedy. Act One: Et Tu, Walter

Friends, Roman Catholics, countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Rangers, not to praise them.

The evil that club hath done lives after them;

There is no good picking over their bones;

So let it be with Rangers.

The noble Walter hath told you Rangers were ambitious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Rangers answered it,

Here, under leave of Walter and the rest of the club’s custodians.

But Walter is an honourable man;

So are they all, honourable men – Minty, Craigy and Charlie

Come I to speak at Rangers’ funeral.

They were not my friend, faithful or just to me:

But Walter says they were ambitious;

And Walter is an honourable man.

He hath brought many trophies back to Ibrox through buying players they couldn’t afford,

Whose ransoms should have filled the general coffers,

But because of Minty’s obsession with the European Cup they couldn’t pay their taxes.

Did this in Rangers seem ambitious?

When that the poor people have cried, “We won’t renew our season tickets!”

Rangers hath wept: we need that money to pay ourselves as our EBTs are a bust flush.

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Walter says they are still ambitious;

And Walter is an honourable man.

You all did see that on the 14^th June

Rangers presented creditors with a kingly crown worth nine pence in the pound,

Which they did refuse.

Was this laughable CVA a sign of ambition?

Yet Walter says they were ambitious;

And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Walter spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.

The myopic people did love Rangers once, not without cause:

They won many things using other people’s money,

They sung about being up to their knees in the blood of their foes,

While being up to their necks in Final Demands.

They looked down on everyone and spoke about dignity,

While dodging taxes and stealing papers from the local newsagent,

They even bumped a face painter for forty quid,

While leaving a trail of debt and destruction in their inglorious wake.

So what cause withholds us now, to mourn for them?

Oh judgment! Have thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason?

Is it not the once mighty Rangers who lie in this coffin?

Whose sectarian signing policy and rioting fans made them

An occasional embarrassment and permanent disgrace.

Bear with me, bears;

For I know your hearts are in the coffin with Rangers,

But you must pause, for just once in your lives,

To spare a thought for those on whom you trampled,

And repent for the sins of your club,

I’m sure Walter, who is an honourable man,

Would settle for nothing less than absolute absolution

From the sins of the past. Perhaps it might go something like this:

'Forgive us, everyone, for we have sinned.'

But I’m sure Walter, the most honourable man in town,

Will breathe new life into Frankenstein Rangers

and lead them into a bright new era

where the birds sing pretty songs

and the flowers dance to the tune of summer.

No, wait, news just in: Walter is walking away.

And I thought he was an honourable man.

Shooting An Elephant

Many years ago George Orwell wrote an essay called Shooting an Elephant. It was an honest account of how, during his time in Moulmein, Burma as a sub-divisional police officer, he shot and killed a rampaging elephant because it was expected of him. To not shoot the elephant would have shown him to be weak in the eyes of the locals, many of whom despised the white Europeans in what Orwell describes as an aimless, petty kind of way.

Being in a position of authority made him an obvious target and he was baited whenever it seemed safe to do so. One example he used to show this was after him being tripped on the football field by a nimble Burman, the referee deliberately looked the other way, much to the hilarity of the locals gathered for the game. Ironically, he points out that the worst for dishing out abuse and jeers were priests: Bhuddist priests.

The essay was written at a time when Orwell was realising imperialism was an evil thing, and something he no longer wanted any part of. He had witnessed the dirty work of empire at close quarters. He wrote:

‘The wretched prisoners huddling in the stinking cages of the lock-ups, the grey, cowed faces of the long-term convicts, the scarred buttocks of the men who had been Bogged with bamboos – all these oppressed me with an intolerable sense of guilt. But I could get nothing into perspective. I was young and ill-educated and I had had to think out my problems in the utter silence that is imposed on every Englishman in the East. I did not even know that the British Empire is dying

The British Empire is, of course, long gone. Well, most of it has. Britain still clings to a tiny group of islands in the South Atlantic that no-one really cares about, other than the few inhabitants shipped there by the British long ago. ‘But the shipped-in population wishes to remain British’ is the message sent out by the British government. ‘We must promote democracy and respect the will of the people.’ Mmm, yes, well.

There is another part of the world the British still claim as part of their empire: an island to the west of mainland Britain. An island called Ireland. To be fair to the British, they don’t claim ownership of the whole island. Well, not anymore. They only want a tiny chunk in the North East of Ireland. Apparently, it is the wish of the shipped-in inhabitants of that tiny corner to remain British, and, of course, the British must promote democracy and respect the will of the people.

We’ll come back to the will of the people later, but for now let’s get back to Orwell and his elephant dilemma.

It had already destroyed somebody's bamboo hut, killed a cow and raided some fruit-stalls and devoured the stock; also it had met the municipal rubbish van and, when the driver jumped out and took to his heels, had turned the van over and inflicted violences upon it.

By the time Orwell located the elephant it had also killed a man so he asked for a rifle in order to defend himself should the elephant attack. When he first saw the elephant he knew he ought not to shoot him. The elephant’s attack of ‘must’ had passed and it was peacefully grazing in the Paddy fields. But the damage had been done and an expectant crowd had gathered to witness the shooting. To not pull the trigger now would have brought ridicule from the natives. And in the world of empire, ridicule cannot be entertained.

Many years later, here in Scotland, an elephant also suffered an attack of ‘must’. After deciding it ‘must’ have everything its own way this beast went on the rampage untouched for decades. Because it was the biggest animal in our little jungle it believed it was untouchable and didn’t have to follow the same rules as everyone else. It believed, and with some justification due to the way it was treated differently by the establishment, that it represented the people.

But it only represented a minority of the people.

Like the people in the North East of Ireland this minority of people relish a sense of supremacy and entitlement, and parochial sectarianism in the form of anti-Irish Catholicism. They hark back to the days of the Indian Raj and a time when Britannia ruled the waves while reigning over an empire on which the sun never set.

But those days heady days of empire are long gone.

These people are an embarrassment to a modern Scotland who views itself as a multicultural society. This modern Scotland opens its arms to immigrants. refugees and asylum seekers from all over the world. Not that these native white Anglo-Saxon people of Scotland care. They don’t claim to be Scottish. They claim to be British. British Unionists and proud.

Last week’s jubilee celebrations allowed them to put up the bunting, sit at home with their feet up and enjoy the pageantry, the live concert and the fireworks display while thinking to themselves, ‘I am proud to be British.”

What they don’t realise is Britain doesn’t want people like them either. What they also didn’t realise was their elephant wasn’t untouchable. Much to their total surprise and utter dismay the British establishment decided the time had come to shoot their elephant.

On the 13^th February Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs pushed the elephant into a big hole called administration.

Many would-be heroes tried to save the elephant by getting it out of the big hole, but their attempts were feeble and ultimately in vain.

Many onlookers came from distant lands to view the elephant.

Some said it was a shame to see such a powerful and dignified beast in such a sorry state.

Most said the elephant was lucky to still be alive after the damage it had caused.

It became obvious to the majority that the beast, although still capable of garnering enough support to lash out with threats, was on its last legs and death was inevitable.

Like all wounded beasts with no hope of recovery the best and most humane course of action would be to put the beast to sleep. In Orwell’s case he had to pump many bullets into the elephant, and even then it still took an age to die.

He wrote:

When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick – one never does when a shot goes home – but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. In that instant, in too short a time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to get there, a mysterious, terrible change had come over the elephant. He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. He looked suddenly stricken, shrunken, immensely old, as though the frightful impact of the bullet had paralysed him without knocking him down. At last, after what seemed a long time – it might have been five seconds, I dare say – he sagged flabbily to his knees.

Today Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs fired another bullet into the heart of Rangers Football Club. It is not yet dead, but is on its knees.

The SPL clubs will meet again shortly to decide whether or not a newco Rangers can parachute straight into Scotland’s top league. A No vote will pump another bullet into the old elephant but it still wouldn’t kill it.

The SFA Appeals Panel will have the opportunity to pump the last bullet into the old elephant. Having already opted out of that course of action they have been forced, by Rangers’ own stupidity and reluctance to play by the rules, to reconsider their position. Included in their short list of punishments to choose from is expelling Rangers from football. They have it in their power to kill the old elephant.

Will they take their chance?

No, I don’t think they will.

In a jungle as small as Scottish football the old elephant is too big to die. Too many scavengers and vultures rely on the old elephant for their own survival.

The old elephant may be sick and apparently on its last legs, but there are too many people out there wanting it to survive in one form or another. Whether it is other clubs who need the money the old elephant generates, or sports journalists who have acquired the taste of succulent lamb, or the self-proclaimed minority of delusional people who think they are entitled to win everything by cheating and lying just because they are…how do they put it…because they are the people.

At the end of Orwell’s essay he pointed out how the opinions of fellow Europeans in Burma differed as to whether or not he should’ve shot the elephant and wondered if anyone realised that he only shot the elephant in order to not look a fool in front of the natives.

I wonder what his views would be on shooting the old elephant called Rangers.

Perhaps we can surmise that, given the prize in his name for political writing was given to an anonymous blogger who focused on how the old elephant and the media worked together to carry out a major cover-up of the old elephant’s misdoings, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger one more time.