Blind Bigotry at Berwick

Everyone knows the recently rushed Offensive Behaviour at Football and Threatening Communications Act is about as useful as wearing a poncho from Poundland while climbing Ridge Tower on Ben Nevis in the middle of a Scottish winter blizzard.

What no one seems to know, or claim not to know, are exactly which songs are illegal and why.

Common sense guides the vast majority of the population to the answer but common sense appears to be a much overrated measurement tool.

Further problems arise with the 'reasonable person' clause in the aforementioned Act.

I'm sure we all view ourselves as reasonable persons.

Both these terms, common sense and reasonable persons, are, by their very nature, purely subjective.

Therein lies part of the problem.

For such a small country we have a huge problem with common sense and reason. Both are in short supply when it comes to narrow-minded sectarian bigots who can't understand life in twenty-first century Scotland.

'But it's not as bad as it used to be,' many of you might say.

This, I also believe, is true.

The majority of the population have moved on from seeking ancient divisive barriers to community integration.

Some still shout about segregated schooling being the seed of all religious hatred in Scotland.

But there are Catholic schools in England and Wales and I don't hear anyone singing about being up to their knees in Fenian blood at any Premier League games, or Championship, and so on.

Catholic education, it appears, is only an issue among a steadfast clique in Bonnie Scotland.

Most of us accept and enjoy living in a multicultural society enriched by immigrants from around the world.

Living in a multicultural society has made everyone more aware of how certain language can be deemed offensive or even racist.

Words that were socially acceptable in the past, like Paki, Chinky, etc, are now scorned upon.

This is one of the reasons why many are now so offended on hearing particular songs that highlight religious differences.

Why should people of Irish descent be treated differently to those from Pakistan or China?

This may be why a non-Scottish TV station felt compelled to not only apologise for the disgusting songs their viewers were bombarded with on Saturday, but also to alert the English police.

Whatever the reasons, ESPN have now set a precedent that Scottish media organisations would do well to follow.

With ESPN opting out of Scottish football next year it will be interesting to see how BT deals with any situations similar to Berwick on Saturday.

Because next time something of this nature occurs Scottish media organisations will be seen to have an agenda if they don't follow ESPN's lead.

The bar has been raised in the fight to clean our game, and it's taken a foreign TV station to set that benchmark.

How embarrassing is that?

First it was Channel 4 who shone a light into some dark corners of our game.

Attempts were then made to discredit Channel 4, or more accurately their award winning chief correspondent, by labelling them Rangers-haters.

Some sections of society (see Vanguard Bears for details) are so deluded they recently attempted to claim the Royal Television Society was controlled by a Celtic-supporting Rangers-hater.

The level of intimidation aimed at Alex Thompson through social media channels has been of such a vitriolic nature at times one can't help admire ESPN for also deciding to take a stand.

Maybe they felt they had a duty to protect their brand and their customers.

Earlier in the season, when Rangers scored a last minute winner against ten-man Queens Park at Hampden, the majority of Rangers fans burst into a rousing chorus of The Billy Boys, complete with full up-to-knees in Fenian blood sentiment.

It was, according to some, a glorious performance by the Rangers choir. They sang proud, loud and clear.

There was no ambiguity or changing of lyrics.

Yet no TV company or media outlet felt the need to apologise to viewers or listeners, or report the lawbreaking to the police.

Couldn't the TV producers hear the chanting?

Did they wilfully not hear it?

Did they really hear it but thought best to ignore it?

Don't they care that viewers were being subjected to a group of people flouting one of the Scottish government's flagship Bills?

If I'm sitting at home watching BBC, or any other media outlet, and they purposefully choose to ignore particular groups vocally attacking religious or racial minorities, are they not complicit in promoting the crime?

What action can minorities take to to protect themselves and others from being verbally attacked in the mainstream media?

Should media organisations be taken to court if they do nothing about crimes taking place on their screens?

Does that sound too extreme?

So what should happen?

Police are reluctant to arrest thirty thousand singers.

Scottish football authorities are reluctant to do anything.

Rangers refuse to acknowledge the scale of the problem.

Scottish journalists are reluctant to tell the truth.

Only today Matthew Lindsay claimed that although he'd attended most of Rangers games this season Saturday was the first time he'd heard any singing of a sectarian nature.

This is the sort of head-in-the-sand journalism that's kept sections of Scotland in the dark ages for far too long.

Another in denial is his colleague Richard Wilson.

But how can we expect neutrality and objectivity from someone touted by David Leggat as having the right credentials and contacts in the Blue Room of Ibrox?

I first witnessed Richard's myopia at an event last year in the Mitchell Library. As part of Glasgow's Aye Write Festival Richard was invited, along with others, to discuss Football and Sectarianism.

That event took place on 11th March 2012. A month after Rangers entered administration and played Kilmarnock at Ibrox in front of a fifty thousand crowd the following Saturday.

It is widely accepted that many songs of defiance were sung that day.

It is also widely accepted that it sounded like the majority of those in attendance joined in most of the singing.

However, in front of a packed crowd, Richard Wilson staunchly wheeled out the old 'it was a small minority' flawed argument that he still uses today.

The audience were, understandably, a bit aghast, yet not unduly surprised, at this level of denial coming from someone on the main platform of the event.

Alan Bissett - Rangers fan and author of a warts and all book about a Rangers fan's trip to Manchester in 2008 - couldn't contain his incredulity at his fellow fan's denial.

Yet Richard remained, and still remains, adamant that it is a small minority.

Perhaps the most heartening aspect of Saturday's embarrassment is the stance taken by a few of the unofficial Rangers bloggers.

They have been vociferous in their damnation of those involved in dragging the club's name back into the muck as it tries to claw its way out the mire of the last year.

But the voices of defiance among Saturday's choir have no loyalty to this new breed of intelligentsia aiming to pull Rangers into the twenty first century.

One fan wrote, 'How can any Rangers fan be offended by No Pope of Rome?'

Another wrote, 'If we send all the Taigs home there wouldn't be any sectarianism.'

These are not isolated comments. Spend two minutes on Rangers Media Forum or Twitter and you'll find enough examples to confirm attitudes like these are not a 'tiny minority'.

Therein lies one of the problems.

Many still see Rangers as an extension of their outdated religious and cultural beliefs as opposed to a modern day football club.

Charles Green has milked those beliefs since his arrival in order to fill the stadium each week and sell shares in the new company.

If ever Rangers had a chance to jettison the 'tiny minority' who bring shame and embarrassment to the club it was last summer.

But, as many past Rangers directors have known over the years, there is brass in that there muck.

With the current owners of the club being reluctant to upset loyal income streams what can modern, socially-aware Rangers fans do to protect the future image of their club.

And remember, it is their club, not Charles Green's or anyone else.

As they've found out to their cost over the last couple of years owners come and owners go.

So how serious are the Rangers bloggers about cleaning up their support?

They claim these singers of offensive songs are damaging the club they love, so what are they going to do about it?

They might claim they can't do anything. They might claim to have no voice in the club's operations or strategic decision making.

Yet it was fan power that led to the club's boycott of a game against Dundee United.

Surely those fine, enlightened chaps at The Rangers Standard and beyond could/should be campaigning the board to take unprecedented action and, if you'll pardon the hyperbolic language, wage war on those who, through their so-called love of the club and perceived culture surrounding it, do more to hurt Rangers than all the so-called Rangers-hating bloggers combined.

For a club who, even after everything that's come out in the last year, still see themselves as pillars of dignity, let's see a proactive example of this dignity in action.

Here is an opportunity to prove your words aren't empty.

We all know paltry fines don't work so cut to the chase and propose points deductions.

How would those who embarrass Rangers feel if a league championship was lost to Celtic, or anyone else, because the club had been deducted vital points for singing about sending Catholics home to Ireland, popes of Rome, Fenian blood, etc?

So, Chris Graham and co, with various platforms and a growing influence in this age of social media, how serious are you about helping the club you love so much shed its unwanted baggage?

Will you write a few blogs criticising the idiots but then leave it at that?

That's what everyone outside Rangers believes you'll do.

We've all heard many words over the years, but actions speak louder than words, and actions on this topic are something no one has seen.

As long as the club is associated with religious bigots any hopes of international growth into new markets won't get off the ground.

Of course, with ESPN ending their coverage of Scottish football, and the Scottish media's reluctance to recognise the scale of the problem, the status quo will remain for the foreseeable future if no one within the club decides enough is enough.

Failing that we'll probably have to live in hope another foreign TV channel shows an interest in Scottish football one day.

Perhaps signing a load of players from the Middle East might get us a sponsorship deal with Al Jazeera. I wonder what they and their audience old make of it all.

As a footnote, albeit a rather lengthy one, I'd like to point out that I'm no hand wringer or panty wetter. I don't get offended by any songs, no matter how vile.

Having grown up in such an environment I'm immune to the hatred.

I'm also an advocate of free speech and freedom of expression.

If there are people in this country who want to celebrate their culture by singing songs, then let them sing until their hearts are content...in a suitable environment.

Football grounds, however, are not suitable environments for expressing certain aspects of certain cultures, especially when every game is broadcast to homes around the world.

I can assure you, no one outside the 'tiny minority' of half wits wants to hear that bile coming from their TV screens while watching a sporting fixture of any kind.

It might've been accepted as the norm a long time ago, but not today, and definitely not tomorrow.

Any reasonable person with a bit of common sense can see that, so why can't the Peepil
or the Scottish media?

George McCluskey: A Celtic Love Story

When one thinks of the power of love George McCluskey isn't the first name which springs to mind. Many won't even know his name never mind the influence he had on helping a shy Scottish lad free the shackles of teen torment and take a step towards maturity.

Expressing one's inner feelings is never easy, especially for young working-class Scottish lads.

Too often they follow the pack and carry the fear of losing face in front of their peers.

I remember hearing Kenny Rogers singing Coward of the County when it first came out and thinking it was a catchy tune with a good wee story.

I shared that information with my closest friends.

They called me a poof.

Lesson learned. I kept my eclectic musical tastes to myself from then.

That only changed once I fell in love. Head over heels love. Not the puppy love infatuations of school or summer romances. Those brief flirtations passed with remarkable regularity after I changed schools from an all-boys Catholic school to a mixed-sex non-denominational.

This love was the real thing.

We'd been going out for a while and spent every moment together, apart from when I went to watch the Celtic.

As the months passed I knew she was the one for me.

I loved her...but couldn't utter those special three words.

In the movies it all looked so easy, and as Dr Hook became the soundtrack to our blossoming romance I wished I could make it More Like The Movies for her.

Even in teen movies the lead characters oozed confidence, charm and sexy sophistication and said the words I love you with such consummate ease I thought there must be something wrong with me.

I tried practicing in front of the mirror but it just didn't feel or sound right.

If I said it like this:

'Ah luv ye.'

then any hint of romance was lost in the translation and it sounded more like a threat.

When I tried saying it like this:

'I love you.'

I felt like a poof.

I wrestled with this dilemma for what seemed an eternity.

And then George McCluskey came to the rescue.

Until that moment George had been a bit part player in my life.

To some he is best remembered for scoring the winner against Rangers in the 1980 Scottish Cup Final. It wasn't the most spectacular goal of his career but has a claim to be one of the most important.

And it all stemmed from a fluffed Danny McGrain shot at goal.

George stuck a leg out and deflected the ball past the despairing Girvan Lighthouse Peter McCloy as he got caught wrong-footed.

Cup winning goal aside my favourite memories of George on the park came against Partick Thistle at Firhill in November 1981.

Frank McGarvey was having a stinker that day and couldn't hit the proverbial barn door.

At one point George, having noticed his striking partner was below par, laid on an open goal for Frank, but poor Frank missed that too.

However, not only did George carry Frank that day, he also belted in a screamer from thirty yards past the helpless Alan Rough.

A little side note to that day in November 1981.

Over at Hampden Dundee United were playing Rangers in the League Cup Final.

There were no smartphones or Internet back then, but a few fans carried little transistor radios. The kind you had to hold a certain way to pick up a decent signal, and even then nothing was guaranteed as the optimal position changed throughout the day. You could have a perfect signal one minute and nothing at all the next.

Loud cheers went up around Firhill, meaning only one thing: Rangers were getting beat.

Word filtered through that Ralph Milne had put United one up.

Even the Partick Thistle supporters joined in the 'Let's all laugh at Rangers' chants.

Louder cheers went up shortly after and news spread of Paul Sturrock putting United two up with a thunderous free kick.

With Celtic beating Partick Thistle and Rangers losing a cup final it seemed a fine day.

Imagine my surprise when the pink Evening Times printed a scoreline of Dundee United 1-2 Rangers.

A misprint surely?

United were two up.

Turned out Sturrock's goal had been chopped off for someone apparently being in an offside position.

An honest mistake perhaps.

Or, as even the younger fans of all clubs have since discovered, Rangers might have been a poor team during that era but they still had friends in the right places.

Some things never change.

Mind you, not much attention was paid to Rangers by anyone else back then other than singing Let's All Laugh At Rangers on a regular basis.

It's fair to say they were among the poorest ever Rangers sides, even though they were managed by one of club's greatest ever players.

Sound familiar?

To make matters better the early eighties was a golden era for Celtic strikers.

With McGarvey, McCluskey and the prolific Charlie Nicholas we were spoiled for choice.

Some fans only know Nicholas from his stumbling punditry on TV. But the Charlie of the1982-83 season scored 50 goals in all competitions and would walk into the current side.

Of course, it was rare to see the three on the park at the same time. One of them had to warm the bench more than the others.

The unlucky one most of the time was George, but he never let it influence his performances on the park.

And it was during one such substitute appearance George McCluskey gave supporters a night they'll never forget, even though most of us never saw what happened due to a TV blackout.

But before that fateful night there was the small matter of a European Cup first leg to be played.

In September 1982 Johan Cruyff brought his Ajax side to Celtic Park.

At 35 years old he was supposed to be well past his magnificent best.

But he strolled through the game, pinging the ball around with a masterful array of passes and setting up a goal with a deft touch worthy of the best.

He only put one foot wrong all night when he tripped Tommy Burns inside the box.

No one who saw the trip could blame Cruyff. Tommy was just too quick and too clever for him.

The final score of 2-2 meant Celtic's hopes of progressing to the next round were greatly diminished, but the appreciative Celtic Park crowd gave Cruyff a standing ovation nonetheless.

In the cold light of day no one gave Celtic a chance to go to Amsterdam and get a positive result.

As with every evening I wasn't watching Celtic I spent the night of the return leg in the arms of my girlfriend and soulmate, Macy.

Of course, my mind was elsewhere, but there was no live TV footage of the game.

There was also no internet to seek out a live stream.

There was only radio.

Mine was a tiny battery-operated radio that required constant fidgeting and manoeuvring to pick up anything resembling a listenable signal.

As Macy and I lay on the bed kissing and cuddling she was a bit miffed at my reluctance to stick on the usual Dr Hook tape to which our growing passionate embraces had become so familiar.

Gone were the romantic lyrics of When You're in Love With a Beautiful Woman, Sexy Eyes and If Not You.

Replaced by a background of white noise and muffled sounds of -

Crackle....Here comes McGrain on the overlap....crackle...

Nicholas...crackle....beats one...crackle...beats two...

Another great tackle by...crackle...Sinclair...

Crackle...crackle....George McCluskey...crackle...substitute...crackle...Davie Provan...

Meanwhile on my bed things were stirring in the exploration studies.

The combination of her perfume and my fluking her bra off with one hand had taken the relationship to a whole new level.

Never mind first or second base I was heading through to the next round.

With her bra removed and pert young breasts pressing against my bare chest something special was definitely happening. I could feel my love growing, literally.

Then it happened.

All I heard was:

Crackle...crackle...crackle...McGrain....crackle...Nicholas...McGarvey...crackle...McCluskey....GOOOOAAAALLLL!!!!


Those lucky enough to be at the game saw Danny McGrain pick the ball up thirty yards out and hammer a woeful effort towards goal. It was a tad similar to his strike in the 1980 Scottish Cup Final when George McLuskey stuck out a leg and diverted the ball past the hapless Peter McCloy.

This time, however, the outside of the Ajax box was so crowded the ball struck Charlie Nicholas who laid the ball off to Frank McGarvey who in turn played a cute pass to substitute George McLuskey.

George slotted the ball low past the Ajax keeper and into the net.

As my radio went crackle crazy I leapt from the bed semi-naked and jumped around the room like a mad man, screaming, 'Ah love ye! Ah love ye! Ah love ye!'

My mum shouted upstairs to keep the noise down.

Macy looked a bit embarrassed and bemused, not knowing whether I was talking about her or George McCluskey or if I'd just lost the plot altogether.

As she pulled the quilt up to cover her modesty I approached her and said tenderly in as crisp and clear English as I could possibly muster, 'I love you too, darling' and immediately felt like a poof.

Her eyes lit up, and so did mine when she returned the sentiment, pulled back the quilt and invited me back in.

The final whistle followed shortly after and the impossible had been accomplished.

Celtic had beaten Johan Cruyff's Ajax in Amsterdam and qualified for the second round of the European Cup.

It's a night I'll never forget.

It's the night I came of age...even if I didn't lose my virginity for another month.

So next time you hear people talking about the power of love, remember it's okay to love another man, especially if he plays for Celtic and scores a vital winner.

I've since learned girlfriends, wives and friends may come and go over the years, but one love is constant and will always be there through thick and thin, sickness and health, richer or poorer.

The love of Celtic Football Club is an undying love, and games like those above remind us why that is so.





Here's a link to that special game. Enjoy.


http://youtu.be/tSEnHKmmLB8