Cut TheCrap - The Game Already Supplies Plenty

I HAVE said this before, and I will surely say it again right up until the day my daughters take my lap top off me and remove me, gaga and gibbering, to the nice care home where “Big Angel”, aka Number One Daughter – the geriatric nurse – says she has already reserved me a place.

But, the Scottish Football Writers Association does the game in Scotland few, if any, favours. They do this by continually talking-up the mundane and the muddled, boosting the bullshiters and braggards and in particular, trying to convince us that Celtic are a good side.

They used to do the same with Rangers, but, not even Big Wullie, the village Chief Bear now tries to tell us he is following a good team in the current Rangers squad.

So, all the “Celtic departed Europe with their heads high” headlines are pure shite, but, pointing this out doesn't sell papers among the Celtic Family. I watched Man City v Celtic on BT Sport. It was, a typical British cup-tie, with perhaps a few more players with better-than-average skill levels, however, what was effectively a Manchester City reserve team played the better football, probably deserved to win, and, if drawing with a shadow squad enables Celtic to hold their heads up – dearie me, how the mighty have fallen.

Joe Mercer and Malcolm Allison would never have contemplated putting out a virtual reserve team against the Lisbon Lions. Sure, Old Joe, and more-so Big Mal would have talked up Colin Bell, Denis Tueart, Mike Summerbee, Franny Lee and Co against Bobby Murdoch, Bobby Lennox, Jinky and Bertie Auld, but, you still fancied, the Lions would have won.

The present City squad – I mean the first team, including the guys rested last night – is far-closer in ability to the sainted names above than the current Celtic squad is to the blessed Lions. I do not accept money makes all the difference. A lot of the current City squad are, thanks to the obscene sums floating around in English football, being paid way too-much. But, the same accusation might be levelled at some of the Celtic squad.

That Celtic is the top side in Scotland cannot be disputed, but, they are some way off being a top side in Europe. Peter Lawwell can spout all the guff he likes about Celtic being the biggest club in the Solar System – if only they could get into the English League – it will not happen. I've got more chance of winning that Scotland cap which a lack of ability and desire cost me back in the 1970s, than Celtic has of getting into the English League any time soon.

For Lawwell to even mention such a move is crass populism – for the stenographers and churnalists to even dignify his comments with an appearance in print is sheer stupidity. It will not happen.

Lawwell is a prime example of all that is wrong with the management of Scottish Football. He is a member of the main SFA Board, some of the stenographers and churnalists insist he is the most-powerful man in Scottish football, which, given the way the diddy teams repeatedly prostrate themselves in front of the Bigot Brothers and invite them to figuratively boot them in the goolies one more time, might be true.

But, the primary objective of the SFA is to nurture and promote Scottish football; to improve and grow the game here. Does it meet these objectives when a main board member speaks openly of taking his club out of Scottish football and into England?

No, it bloody well doesn't, and, since the other clubs will not pull him up for this, it is surely up to any self-respecting press corps to do this. But, you and I know full well, the stenographers and churnalists will no more censure Celtic than they will draw back the curtains on the continued horror show which is the management of the other cheek of Scottish football's sectarian arse.

Scottish fitba is in a mess, but, not as big a mess as Scottish fitba writing is.

MIND you, there is an oasis of quality, a few diamonds amidst the stones in the intellectual desert of Scottish fitba journalism.

I commend the readers' attention to the second edition of Nutmeg – the Scottish football periodical, 196 pages of very good writing about the game up here. You will not find-out what any former Rangers or Celtic “legend” thinks about current events; you will not find any of the writers indulging in gratuitous slagging-off of current Scottish fitba heroes, but, what you will find is enough in-depth reading to keep you going through several lang winter nichts, and leave you thinking.

Editor Ally Palmer has done a fantastic job in getting Nutmeg up and running. Support it, buy it, take out a susbcription – this publication deserves to succeed; it is a beacon of light in the wilderness.

A Good Appointment, But, Give The Boy Time

THE appointment of Ian Cathro as Hearts' new Head Coach is an exciting development. Cathro is clearly the future of coaching in this country. He has, since his first faltering steps in coaching on Tayside been an innovator. He has had a rapid rise and I would dearly love to see him succeed.

He is perhaps in the right place at Tynecastle. Craig Levein was the first person t realise, Cathro had the X-factor, so, he will support him, while Anne Budge is anything but the stereotypical Scottish club owner, she too will cut him the necessary slack when he makes the mistakes which every tyro coach makes.

His problems I feel, lie elsewhere. For a start, will the Hearts fans buy into the Cathro way. They want to see Hearts up there challenging the Old Firm for the major prizes; they want their team in Europe; naturally, they want frequent trips to Hampden for the big matches and to return to Gorgie with silverware. Will they give him the time he will need to put in place the structures to bring this about?

Then, there is the unpalatable fact – the hardest part of coaching is getting it right on a Saturday. This includes, perhaps THE single most-difficult skill – getting the team right. Jock Stein, who of course operated in a very-different football planet always said having a good team was easy, it was all a matter of having the five players who like you having a greater impact on the team than the five who loathed you – Big Jock never had much time for goalkeepers, by the way.

To take an example from another code of football: former Scotland rugby coach Andy Robinson is widely held within the handling game as a fantastic training ground coach. Some say he had a greater impact on the World Cup-winning England team of 2003 than had Clive Woodward, who got his knighthood on the back of that victory. However, when Robinson succeeded Woodward, and had to actually pick the team, England fell to bits.

Now, to be fair, retirements, some players slipping off the top of the hill, injuries and loss of form had an impact on England's fall from grace, but, quite simply, Robinson couldn't cut it at the top level.

He then came to Scotland and sorted-out Edinburgh, without delivering trophy-winning success, then he got Scotland out of the really bad place they had got into from the horrific Matt Williams episode. But, he hit the brick wall and fell on his sword.

He then moved to Bristol, got them back into the Premiership, but, was sacked earlier this season as the team failed to kick-on.

Again in football, one of the finest coaching/management dynasties in post-war Scottish football was McLean Brothers of Ashgill. Jim wrought miracles with his “corner shop” in Tannadice Street, regularly beating-up the big “supermarkets”. Tommy, the most-celebrated player, tasted success at Motherwell and Hearts, while oldest brother Willie did little of note at various clubs. Indeed, I recall, during his tenure at Somerset Park, a group of Honest Man turning-up at the opening pre-season friendly of one particular season, against Irish non-leaguers Larne, with a huge banner: “McLean Must Go” - this was in mid-July.

Yet, football insiders, who know their coaching, will tell you, Willie was the best coach of the three McLean brothers.

Now, we wait to find out, will Ian Cathro be a Willie McLean, or a Jim? Yes, between Monday morning and Friday lunch time, he may well improve his players' skills levels and possibly their fitness – but, can he get inside their heads and persuade them to make the stuff which works against token opposition on the training ground during the week, work as effectively when it matters on a Saturday afternoon?

If he can do that, and I hope for Hearts' sake he can, then the Gorgie club will have won, not so-much a watch as a Rolex.

There is one further piece of grit in the machine. Just suppose he comes in, works his coaching magic, improves the players and the product and Hearts win a trophy this season – what will happen when the money English sides come in for their best players?

This is the great insurmountable problem for Scottish football and Scottish teams: domestic success in Scotland, followed by European exposure makes the players increasingly vulnerable to the advances of richer English clubs.

Players follow the money and have to be replaced, which puts more pressure on the coaches to replace the departed with new talent which is just as good.

The Old Firm has always had the advantage that, they could keep more players than the rest. OK, today, even they cannot compete with the silly money in England, but, their players can command enough in transfer fees to make replacement procurement easier.

Just imagine how many more trophies Hearts might have won had they been able to hold onto Alex Young, Ian Crawford and most-definitely Dave Mackay, back in the day.

I HAVE known big Chris Iwelumo since he was a 16-year-old schoolboy in the St Mirren youth team. He is a smashing big fellow, who, sadly, will forever be tarred by that miss against Norway.

Last week, Chris was appointed assistant manager at non-league Chester, and, I wish the big man every good fortune in his new role. Now, Chris has an advantage over many footballers, his brain is in his head rather than his feet. He chose to leave St Joseph's Academy in Kilmarnock in his Fifth Year to go full-time with the Buddies, when he could have stayed on and like his big brother and wee sister, gone to college.

So, having a bit more intelligence than your average player, he has a chance in management. Also, he is going in at a fairly low level, and will surely work his way up. Of course, and it is terrible I should require to say this, the colour of his skin might be something of a handicap in some parts of England, but, I am sure he can go far.

In British football, too-many former internationalists seem to be rushed into big jobs with limited management experience, then fail. In the much-more professional realm of North American sport, an NFL quarterback with say, the Dallas Cowboys, does not retire one day, and the next is appointed Head Coach of, say the San Francisco 49ers. No, over there, where professional sport really is professional, a retired player will perhaps start off coaching at a High School, then get an assistant coach's post at a small college, then move-up to a bigger school, before becoming a Head Coach.

If he cuts it in college ball, he will be given a chance in the big show, after which, he can retire in some comfort to Florida. Coaches over there are allowed to develop, not flung to the wolves in a big job, too soon – which pretty-much brings this post back round to where we began some 1200 words ago.

Not Rangers Class - In Fact Not Remotely Rangers Class

HAVING nothing better to do the other night, I watched the Hearts v Rangers match, live on BT Sport. Thank the Lord for Chris Sutton, and guest straight man Terry Butcher; but for their very funny double act as colour commentators, it would have been a gey dreich nicht.

The truth can no longer be hidden – this just might be the worst Rangers team in almost 40-years. I am amazed Ra Peepul still Follow-Follow, so dire is the product they are being served up. The cry was No Defenders, even less of a midfield and, we can only reserve judgement on the attack, since they were given so-little support from the guys behind them.

Rangers are not merely a club without a credit line to the bank, they are living hand-to-mouth on the park too. NRC – that stands for Not Rangers Class, just sums them up nicely.

NOT that Hearts were much better. They were a more co-ordinated team, they had the better players and their success was a good way for Robbie Neilson to sign-off, before departing to MK Dons, where I fear he may sink without trace.

He has left a well-run club, going places and capable of getting better, for the bigger money in England. Little good this did him as a player, I fear he might have similarly mis-calculated as a coach.

Now, the biggest game for the Churnalists and Stenographers of the Scottish Football Writers Association, is – who's gonna get the Hearts job? Immediately, one of the front runners, Gary Naysmith, ruled himself out of contention, by switching from part-time East Fife to full-time Queen of the South.

I wish Gary well at Palmerston, a place where I enjoyed many good days reporting on football. Since they got rid of the toxic Willie Harkness, Queens have slowly re-established themselves, without quite making the breakthrough to becoming regular Premiership players, or even getting there in the first place. The Doonhamers are a sleeping giant, which has been sleeping for too-long. I hope Gary can take them through that final barrier from Championship to Premiership.

IAN Cathro, owes any success he has had in football to the faith big Craig Levein showed in him during Craig's spell at Dundee United. So, naturally, his was another name in the frame for the Hearts job. If I was young Ian, I would avoid Tynecastle like the plague.

I honestly don't think he would be happy as Head Coach at the club. Cathro, thus far, has made his name as a coach of young, emerging talent. He is currently at a bigger club than Hearts, albeit in a Number Two role, but, learning, on a daily basis, from one of the top coaches in Europe.

If I was he, I would stay with Rafael Benitez, continue to absorb the lessons he will learn there, enjoy at least one season in the English Premiership with Benitez and Newcastle, then, maybe, think of a return to Scotland in a Head Coach role. For me, the Hearts' job has come that bit too soon for him.

GOOD Luck too, to Gareth Southgate, the new England manager. I know, I know, what is a fully-paid-up Tartan Army foot soldier doing wishing the new England boss well.

Simples, we need a strong England, to have something to aim at. As a player, Southgate maybe wasn't an absolute top-quality, England-class defender. He might have worn the number 6 shirt, but, he was no Bobby Moore.

However, he never gave anything less than 100% for his country, and even managed to be forgiven for missing that penalty against Germany in 1996. He has served a long apprenticeship via the England age group squads and, for my money, he deserves his crack at the top job.

Mind you, for as long as the obscenity which is the “greed is good” English Premiership is allowed to import any old foreign rubbish as players, paying them grossly-inflated wages in the process, then England will struggle.

The best way to build a great team is to have a great spine – goalkeeper, central defender, midfielder and striker of the highest-quality, then fill-in around this basic core. OK, we Scots have long sought to play down the 1966 World Cup-winning England team, but, look at the spine: Gordon Banks, Moore, Bobby Charlton and Jimmy Greaves – these guys were on any short-leet for the best player in the world in their positions at that time. Add Ray Wilson, who was the best left back in the world and you had half a team of world-beaters. The other six players weren't bad either (and, I know Greaves wasn't in the winning team, but, come-on – Greaves or Hurst, it's a no-brainer”.

Today there is not a single English player who can be said to be the best in his position in the Premiership, far less the world. That is the reality of what Southgate has to work with.

And, just think of the quality Scotland had back then, and we didn't make the 1966 finals. Then look at what we have today. It would bring a tear to a glass eye.

What's In A Name - This Competition Needs A Reason To Survive

Like Dame Elizabeth Rosamund Taylor-Hilton-Wilding-Todd-Fisher-Burton-Burton-Warner-Fortensky, The Scottish League Cup has gone through many names in its 70-year history. On Sunday, in its latest incarnation, the Betfred Cup, it was won by Celtic, the club's 100^th trophy. Was anyone surprised?

As Sir Alex Ferguson correctly identified all those years ago, to gain respect in Scottish football, a provincial team such as Aberdeen has to win, and win regularly in Glasgow. This is something which Derek McInnes's Aberdeen has yet to start doing on a regular basis. To have had a chance yesterday, they would have needed to score first – when that didn't happen, it was obvious, the trophy was heading for Celtic Park.

The League Cup might offer the diddy teams their best chance of lifting silverware, but, it remains beyond doubt, if either of the Bigot Brothers is in the final against a provincial outfit, then, the Glasgow club will start as favourites and generally justify the tag. Thus it transpired yesterday.

The League Cup does not carry European entry the following season as a bonus, alongside possession of the actual trophy. It has, as I said at the start of this post, had various names, as the justification for this late arrival in the realm of national trophies has fought to justify its existence.

I have long felt, if there was even an ounce of ambition within the sixth floor corridor at Hampden, rather than periodically re-arranging the deck-chairs around the League Cup, the High Heid Yins would come up with an innovative formula – to make the League Cup matter.

For instance, Cricket Scotland runs a couple of national competitions – in the Scottish Cup, the clubs are free to field all their players, including their professional, generally an overseas player, and the overseas amateur whom the top clubs now also sponsor. In the other, whose current name escapes me, the XI fielded has to be all-Scottish.

Now, imagine this in football, if entry to the League Cup carried with it the demand for an all-Scottish squad. If that was the case, the teams which both sides fielded yesterday would have been very different from what they did field.

The teams listed 18-man squads for the game. Only seven of the Celtic squad – starters: Craig Gordon, Scott Brown, Stuart Armstrong and James Forrest and substitutes Leigh Griffiths, Gary Mackay-Steven and Callum McGregor were “Scottish”.

Of Aberdeen's 18-man squad, again, only seven were Scottish: starters Andrew Considine, Graham Shinnie, Ryan Jack and Kenny McLean, and substitutes Neil Alexander, Mark Reynolds and Peter Pawlett.

Thus, 36 players were stripped and available to play yesterday, in a national cup final, but, less than half, 14 of the 36 were Scottish. How does this square with the SFA's remit to foster and encourage Scottish football?

I know the clubs will squeal that, under European freedom of movement legislation, they cannot positively discriminate in favour of Scottish players, and force the clubs to only field Scots.

Well, the English Rugby Premiership operates under the same European legislation, but, somehow, they can insist that 70% of every 23-man match-day squad has to be “England-qualified”. I have asked various Hampden “blazers” how come English rugby can enforce this rule, but, Scottish football cannot? You've guessed – none can answer.

I am not saying demanding all-Scottish squads would offer the provincial clubs a better chance of winning the League Cup; or that making this demand would handicap the big clubs, but, it just might encourage the Scottish clubs to stop recruiting in the lower leagues in England, or in the football Aldis and Lidls in Europe, and encourage native talent.

Making the League Cup an all-Scottish competition just might give it the boost it needs. But, having said that, I don't expect the stumblebums in the Hampden posh seats to take a blind bit of notice.

THE on-going paedophile scandal in English football is worrying. As yet, there has been no spill-over into Scottish football. Yes, we all know about the ancient Celtic BC scandal involving the evil Jim Torbet, but, when full-time “on the tools” with a Scottish daily newspaper, I can recall we tried, unsuccessfully as it turned-out, to “out” a well-known local football club organiser, about whom there was a lot of gossip.

We failed to nail the story down well-enough to get it past the paper's lawyers, and, the highly-experienced journalist who fronted our campaign was upset at our failure. His gut instinct, honed over many years on the crime beat, plus the gut instincts of the several long-serving cops to whom he spoke was – the guy was a paedo. Sadly, we couldn't prove it.

However, he retired fairly soon afterwards, so, maybe we smoked him out.

There was also the director at the local senior club, who took a very close interest in the club's excellent youth development scheme, to the extent one manager effectively banned him from going anywhere near the youth team. That very-experienced manager simply did not trust the director around the young lads.

The nonces have ways of infiltrating to get their evil way with vulnerable youngsters. We can never be too-vigilant in protecting our kids. I fear, there is a lot more to still emerge from the on-going events in English football, and, we in Scotland need not think the fall-out will escape our game.

We lost big Davie Provan last weekend, after a lengthy battle against ill-health. Now, not even Davie would claim he was one of the all-time greats, but, he never gave less than 100 per cent on the park, and, without the hod-carriers such as Provan, the artists such as Jim Baxter could never have built such memories for those watching.

There is You Tube footage of wee Jinky making big Davie look particularly foolish, however, while Jinky was enjoying himself, nutmegging the big man twice and three times, the rest of the Rangers defence was getting into position ready to deal with the cross when it eventually came.

Provan, unlike big Greig, never gave Jinky an up close and personal meeting with the crowd in the Jungle, which says a lot for him.

My own personal memory of Provan was in the Scotland v Italy game at Hampden, in November, 1965; the match we won 1-0 thanks to that wonderful last-minute Greig goal. Well earlier in the second half, with Scotland goalkeeper Bill Brown a limping passenger with a thigh strain – no substitutes back then remember. The great Sandro Mazzola broke clear, an Italian goal seemed certain, however, on the edge of the box, big David got back to scythe him down. His foul prevented the goal, the Italians mucked-up the free-kick, and, this being the 1960s, Davie didn't even get booked for what, today, would be a certain red-card offence.

Cue David Francey, doing the radio commentary. David's comment was: “Of course, we should never applaud such blatant fouling, but, well done Big Davie, a wonderful foul to commit”.

I WAS at Rugby Park on Saturday, for the Scotland v Georgia rugby international. There were 15,401 fans inside the ground, this will probably be the biggest crowd at Rugby Park this season, and, I have to say, that number showed up the deficiencies of the main stand – it was just too crowded.

But, I could not help thinking, how come a rugby crowd can enjoy a drink at the game, but, a football crowd cannot. There were guys there who turn up on a weekly basis to watch Killie; they could get a drink at the game last Saturday, but, this Saturday, when Dundee come calling, and there are some 10,000 fewer spectators inside the ground, no drink will be available.

It does not make sense, and, football is losing access to a potentially-profitable revenue strain – because a bunch of nutters, whom the football authorities are unwilling to bring to heel or get rid of, cannot be trusted to act responsibly.

It's Not What You Say, It's How You Say It

IN any confrontational game – from cards to cage-fighting, verbals play a part. The correct quip, delivered at the right moment, can have devastating consequences. Cricket, for instance, belies its image as a gentlemanly game when you read some of the great “sledges” in that sport:

Australia's Rodney Marsh to Ian Botham: “How's your wife and my children”?

Botham: “The wife's fine, the kids are retards”.

Australia's Mark Waugh to England's James Ormond: “This is a Test match, what are you doing here? You're too shit to play for England”.

Ormond: “Maybe so, but, I am the best player in my family”.

Or, my favourite, Fred Trueman, after he had uprooted the middle stump of an arrogant former public schoolboy batsman. The dismissed batsman, as he departed, said: “Very good delivery Trueman”.

“Aye, it were wasted on thee”, was Fred's retort.

Another good place for verbal jousting is the front row of the rugby scrum. One of the all-time greats in that area, former Scotland captain Ian “Mighty Mouse” McLauchlan, always insists, if an opposing prop comes up with the: “Do that again and you're for it” line – you're winning.

McLauchlan, or “Wee Beastie” as those of us who suffered pain at his hands know him, never went in for verbals – if you offended him, he simply punched you and told you: “That was your warning son”.

So, you are asking yourself – why has he wasted 230 words on cricket and rugby stories, well, just this – if Michael Lustig had had a couple of Portugese one-liners up his sleeve, or had signed-up to the McLauchlan doctrine, he'd have put Neymar in his place at Celtic Park last night.

Lustig picked-up a totally senseless booking by reacting to Neymar's petulant, childish push; had he simply got up and walked away, then waited for Neymar to run at him again, before knocking him into the crowd, he might not have avoided a yellow card, but, he would certainly have won the battle.

Previous generations of Celtic full backs such as McGrain, Hay, Gemmell, Brogan, Kennedy, Craig and, most-definitely Sean Fallon, would have done just that, allowed Neymar to get up close and personal with the Jungle. That would definitely have put the Brazilian's gas out of peep.

Any way, Celtic are now out of Europe this season, and, we have further proof of how poor Scottish football has become. That losing Celtic team last night had a 7/4 imports to Scottish balance. If we're going to keep going out of Europe before Christmas, I reckon we might as well do it with all-Scottish teams; in time, the Scottish players will learn and we will improve. Continually failing with mercenaries is not the way forward for Celtic, or for Scottish football. Certainly not as we go into the 50^th year since Lisbon.

When will that message strike home?

SOME light relief on our sports pages this week, was offered by that little playground spat between Scott Brown and Charlie Adam.

Now, in terms of pure footballing ability, Adam is a superior player to Brown. However, ability isn't everything, and, when it comes to application of their given talents, Adam isn't remotely in the same league as Brown. Scott Brown, with Adam's pure ability, or Charlie Adam with Brown's drive and passion, would be two fantastic players, who could make a huge difference to the Scotland team.

I remember watching Adam in a Scotland Under-21 match at Rugby Park, against Turkey I think it was. He was sent off for a petulant, needless foul, then, as the press emerged, unchastened and unbowed, he was holding court in front of a bunch of adoring Rangers' fans. That was when I realised he was doomed – a waste of space, who would always be a peripheral figure in football, as it has come to pass.

A lot of what Brown does on the field leaves me cold, however, he has made a lot of his talent and, while he was adopted, rather than born into the Celtic Family, he has earned his esteemed place there. I'm with Broonie in this spat.

I GOT “a legal warning” - which was actually no such thing, from a certain fading Scottish morning newspaper this week. Their website monitor, plus the churnalist I was having a go at, took exception to me referring to said hack as RWM of the Lap Top Loyal.

My counter-claim of “veritas” passed over their heads. OK, I wear such warnings as a badge of pride, I am fulfilling my journalistic reason d'etre by getting up authority's nose – result. But, in waving a yellow card at me, the paper totally forgot to amend the error of fact I was pointing-out in the first place.

Scottish football journalism, heading down the stank at the speed of light.