Forget the board - it's thunder time

I have never met a man with a moustache who I really trusted. Likewise a trimmed beard. One can argue all day that to grow facial hair is to accept that natural state of man - fair enough for those who accept a tousled mop in their custard - but the crafting of such as a bodily adornment always gives me pause.

The bible makes no mention of the Remington Beard Trimmer; no apostle is drawn with a Mexican handlebar. So when I see a man who has cultured his own lip rug my inner psychologist comes in to play. What's he trying to say? What statement is he making about himself. Does he think it makes him more attractive, more powerful? Doesn't it get crusty with snotters in winter?

And so, dear reader, I need hardly tell you that Dermot Desmond is a man of whom I have long harboured suspicions.

And yet this is not a time for any division amongst Celtic fans over some lip-rugged shyster or sharp-suited charlatan. There is time ahead for recriminations - for asking why we sold Artur Boruc without securing an adequate replacement, why chronic back pain should affect Aiden McGeady just before a Champions League qualifier, why we have a plethora of midfielders but not a proven, reliable goalscorer or for any talk of Shaun Maloney at all.

Celtic, and one man in particular, needs us. For sure, losing 3-0 away to Braga was not our club's finest hour. Nor, mind you was it remotely comparable to the Artmedia Bratislava or Neuchatel Xamax fiascos. But those who have given up do their club and its traditions an injustice.

Not so long ago, another Portuguese side, Benfica, was thrashed 3-0 at Celtic Park before returning the favour in their own ground a few weeks later. That is just one example of many occasions on which the atmosphere at Celtic Park - enough, according to Johann Mjallby to have had a seasoned visiting international vomit through fear of entering the arena - has been enough to empower our own side and crush the will of the opposition.

On Wednesday night, Celtic Park must play host to a good, old-fashioned, blood and thunder expression of united defiance. We can beat Braga by enough goals to go through and we must. For now, everything else is a side-issue.

And let's not forget the man under most pressure. Few have given more for or to Celtic. He served us well for years as captain of our most successful side for years. And let's not forget that he has endured the most vile racist, bigoted abuse for his troubles, culminating in his being attacked by thugs and left for dead in the street only to be taunted by Scotland's tabloid press.

Can we do it for Neil Lennon? Can we do it for Celtic? Bring them on.

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Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

John Lydon, 1978

Cast your minds back to December 2008. Celtic were Scottish champions and coasting to the SPL title. We played the R-word in January, establishing a 7-point lead in the SPL table. We were heading for a fourth title and bemoaning two title blips under Martin O'Neill that had spoiled what should have been a historic run of championships. All was right with the world, right?

Well, not quite. Few of us were actually fooled into thinking we had a good team. Complacency had appeared to set in at every level of the club.

Gordon Strachan had already submitted his notice (as suggested here), despite lies to the contrary. As with almost every man who knows he is marking time in a job, his demeanour changed. He was that bit less angry and more dismissive.

His ideas - when he appeared to have any – increasingly looked tired and predictable. The performances on the pitch were reflective of an attitude that everyone seemed to be guilty of – going through the motions in a slightly disinterested expectation of eventual success.

The team on the park was leaderless, gutless and lacking any spark of creativity or passion. The players turned up, regularly failed to win and went home, only to take the same approach week after week.

The fans were unhappy but there was little that could be recognised as a consensus. Some said the football was boring. Others said they were unrealistic and should be thankful of the inevitable title, however it was achieved. Some questioned the board's fiscal policy. Others told them they were the sort of people who brought Leeds Utd to financial ruin. Some feared for the future. Others told them the club was in the best hands but that average Celtic fans were too ignorant to understand the strides being made at boardroom level. Some were angry, some were bored and, frankly, some didn't seem to give a damn.

But we had one consolation. We were going to win the title because our nearest rivals were an abysmal team, almost totally bereft of talent, and in such a financial hole that there was damn all they could do about it.

Then came the long, cold January of 2009. It is a time that will live in ignominy in the history of Celtic. Rumours abounded that Celtic directors had reneged on promises to improve the team in the summer. The arrival of Willo Flood had all the impact of Neil and Christine Hamilton turning up at a charity event as surprise celebrity guests.

The rest is so much history – the title was lost, the manager vanished, he was replaced with someone who had just had his team relegated after the manager of Burnley turned us down (only to later be lured by the bright-lights-big-city of Bolton). And, yes, we were told lies about that too.

Well, the chickens have come home to roost. On this blog, I expressed concern about the sort of managers Celtic had approached, not even considering someone like Davie Moyes who was clearly interested. But, in truth, I suspected that they would get away with it.

I had a hunch that a new manager would see players more motivated, kick a few backsides, inject a few ideas and comfortably outclass the other teams in Scotland. Shouldn't have been too hard, should it? To outclass St Mirren? Or the Scottish champions who had actually got weaker than that side we were lolling past just 14 months ago?

For those of you who deplore the blame game, look away now. It's high time to indulge in recriminations with gusto.

I blame the Coolmore Mafia's Dermot Desmond, a man with an ethical business record that makes David Murray look like Richard Branson. Brian Quinn has not been forgotten.

I blame Dr John Reid, who spent a lifetime betraying and backstabbing political colleagues to get what he wanted, who had no qualms about killing children in an illegal war, yet has shown no stomach to fight for Celtic.

I blame Peter Lawwell and Eric Riley, partners in crime who have made huge sums of money while Celtic have declined.

I blame the players – nearly all of them – who have shown no sense of understanding that it is a privilege to play for Celtic.

I blame Tony Mowbray, who I urged to resign with dignity several weeks ago, and who appears to lack the most basic footballing intelligence.

I blame the Scottish football establishment and their friends in the media who perpetuate the myth that, just because we are playing badly, we are not entitled to impartial officiating, while another team that is playing badly is gifted points and has players let off scot-free after committing assaults just because of who they are.

I blame the Celtic supporters, who in five years under Martin O'Neill started to think of winning trophies as something that just happened.

I blame the insidious campaign of propaganda and disinformation masquerading as “independent” comment on a certain blog and I blame the adherents to that blog's “party line” who smugly derided fans who just wanted to adhere to Celtic's traditions, including trying to win things. They are perhaps the worst of all. They have embraced decline and declared themselves to be financial geniuses in doing so. Rest assured, the volunteer men who built the first Celtic Park with their bare hands did not do so for the likes of them.

A club and a support divided? So be it. Draw the battle lines, prepare for idealogical warfare. We must root them out, whatever the cost. We are not even serving in heaven, but in hell.

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Time for Celtic to abandon Scotland?

No, it's not that old “let's go to the Premiership” line that we know is not going to happen in the foreseeable future. It's an even older line – but one that seems to have reached its peak at the most improbable time – the relationship between Celtic as a club and body of fans with the Scottish national football team and association.

This angst goes back at least as far as Jimmy McGrory, the highest goalscorer in the history of British football who was awarded just seven international caps – scoring seven goals.

Many will hark back to the era of Jimmy Johnstone and deciding to turn their back on the national team after hearing Scotland fans boo a man who was acknowledged as one of the finest players in the world. Others will point to the absurd – the surprise omission of Kenny Dalglish from the Scotland squad coincidentally preserving the consecutive caps record of former Rangers player George Young.

Sit in any company of Celtic fans and each will have his favourite story of a Celtic player overlooked for selection (Harry Hood being a decent example) or abused by the Tartan Army at Hampden (too many to name – let's plump for Brian McClair).

Yet somehow, today's Scottish football hierarchy has contrived to scale new heights in alienating the Celtic support, discarding all honour in their efforts to assuage the ire of Rangers fans – within and without the Scottish media.

In the interests of accuracy, it should be noted that honour – or even basic fairness – have never been attributes highly valued by the SFA. In the 1990s – when Rangers were riding high and Scotland still occasionally qualified for tournaments, the period was remarkable for the national team's ability to reach the latter stages despite sudden call-offs from certain Rangers personnel who were almost invariably fit for their club's domestic and European encounters.

Far from being criticised for their repeated acts of disloyalty, the practice was almost invariably either dismissed as bad luck or seen as some sort of virtue: to lead the charge for Rangers but let the country fend for itself. There were no worse offenders than the future Scotland and Rangers assistant manager, Ally McCoist and the terrorist-supporting criminal associate Andy Goram, who were nevertheless reinstated without question when the glamour matches came around.

However, even in those days – when Celtic fans had more pressing worries – there was rarely the level of unqualified anger that has surrounded the relationship between the Scottish football establishment bodies and their favourite team.

Ever since the media clamour to sack the incumbent Berti Vogts and replace him with Walter Smith (with then media pundit Gordon Duffield Smith the vanguard Bear), the SFA has flitted between accommodation and capitulation to the interests of Rangers FC, regardless of the conduct of their officials or rabble element amongst their players.

Walter Smith, who had been out of work as a manager since his sacking by Everton 18-months previously, had clearly briefed pundits such as Duffield who were able to say that they “knew” he was willing to take the job.

For this salvation from football's scrapheap, he rewarded his employers by abandoning the country without notice at a vital moment in a Euro 2008 qualifying campaign. David Taylor claimed to have been very unhappy about the whole show yet compensation was never pursued, Smith was praised in the sections of the media that would like to claim to be impartial and the interests of Rangers were seen to be still paramount in 21st-century Scotland.

Back at Rangers, and far from having any sympathy with George Burley, (who had replaced another former Rangers manager at the national team), Smith's players continued the policy of his previous period of tenure – some selective withdrawals added to loutishness and malice to the point of sabotage. Some, like Kenny Miller and David Weir, continued to support their nation's cause on the football field.

But the scurrilous behaviour of Kris Boyd, Lee McCulloch, Barry Ferguson and Allan McGregor would have appalled any Scottish fan who cared about his country. It appeared neither to worry Walter & Ally nor Gordon & George (Peat), who made occasional rumblings about behaviour being unacceptable before making Burley the scapegoat for all the episodes. Is it a coincidence that all the issues of conflict or ill-discipline in Burley's Scotland came from players of the club whose players withdrew from squads most regularly?

Given that Duffield and Peat admitted to meeting with Rangers officials to change the date of the Scottish Cup final to give Rangers an advantage in their SPL campaign and announced this to the Daily Record without consulting their members or the other finalists, it might have been thought that the Ibrox hierarchy would feel a personal debt if not one of national allegiance.

But the story of Scottish football remains that the Rangers manager is untouchable – by the authorities or the reporters like Darryl Broadfoot, well-known Murray and Rangers lapdog, who finds himself appointed as a media professional by the SFA.

Duffield and Smith are adopting old-time policies in a new media age, which makes their reinstatement of the Ibrox four all the more apparently an act in the interests of Rangers over Scotland. Their control over the referees seems only to extend to supporting decisions that have clearly disadvantaged Celtic and in the process silently abandoning the much-vaunted anti-diving campaign that, if implemented, would have robbed Rangers of the services of Kyle Lafferty and Nacho Novo along with Miller and Boyd.

In the face of media complaints – from hacks close to the Rangers manager – Celtic players are disciplined retrospectively with the SFA refusing to define the rules of procedure when Celtic wish to appeal. When Lafferty carries out one of the worst fouls seen in Scotland in recent times on Andreas Hinkel, there is silence. When Boyd elbows a player, the definition of offence is altered by the referee to obstruction, allowing him to avoid suspension, though a direct free-kick was awarded.

McGregor is involved in an “incident”, which he declines to report until it has been reported in the media, and Fraser Wishart – another former Rangers player involved in “fixture-gate” – decries an “assault” on a footballer “just for the jersey he wears”. He should be called as a witness as McGregor allegedly told police he did not know what happened or even where, frustrating their efforts to examine CCTV footage.

When the naked bias only involves tabloid headlines, we can choose to ignore it. But the insidious relationships at the heart of Scottish football are now blatantly undermining fair competition. For too long Celtic players have carried the immigrant's burden – having to try harder to show loyalty in order to earn an acceptance that is often grudged and rarely translated into “equality of esteem” as our ASBO neighbours might call it.

Amongst Celtic fans, it is always a contentious issue with many thousands born in Scotland every bit as passionate about their country as fans of any other club. However, the SFA-RFC-SPFA axis (with dishonourable mention to the SPL, led by another former Rangers player) has shown itself to disdain all normal rules of fair competition. The only pressure Celtic can exert is by boycotting the games – at least as fans. In the meantime, some of those hard-nosed executives and directors at Celtic should make their own voices heard in the corridors of power.

The inescapable conclusion seems to be that you can now support Celtic or Scotland – not both.
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