After much fan unrest, press derision and scoffing by our big-spending city rivals, the club called a press conference to say they had pulled a very big rabbit out of a magic hat.
Despite all suspicions that the Board of Directors were dishonest, incompetent buffoons lining their own pockets while Celtic disintegrated, we were told that the most improbable of plans for a £50m stadium had the green light.
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I can still hear Patrick McNally's voice replying “Gefinor”, when asked who had put up the funding for the project.
Of course, within days it had become clear that there was no funding, no stadium – only the pathetic folly of men who knew the ball was on the slates.
My youthful self learned a few things then about taking anything at face value when it doesn't seem to fit with the available facts – and that people under the most extreme pressure act differently.
When they know the game is up, they will put their last grand on 32-Red to try to save their house and, of course, the ball inevitably lands on 0-Green.
And, somehow, the surreal events in Scottish football since Anthony Stokes equalised for Hibernian and then David Gray delivered the Hibs their first Scottish Cup for 114 years seem reminiscent of that fateful time in 1994.
That's not to say that the Scottish game has been short on surrealism in recent times. From Whyte to Green to King, the Fit-&-Proper criminal. From the company that was never a club that never died, though the new club and the old club co-existed and King of the new same club suggested reversing the liquidation of the old same club.
From Apocalypse to Armageddon, from football dreams to fighting on the field; we've had all this and so much more.
But on Saturday, the violins started to be played to the strains of Stadivarious c.1994.
So The Rangers lost – nothing new there, nor in the bit of thuggery at the end. And the bleating: well, it's to be expected.
But watching the eerie light from phones pointing to Jim Traynor as he read out his statement explaining that the players couldn't receive their medals because they had been assaulted, something wasn't right.
Primarily, it was too soon after the events. Often that's a sign that something has been pre-planned but clearly not in this case, unless you believe that the actions of thousands of fans was orchestrated.
No, but when there is genuine alarm, events tend to take a different turn. Firstly, the most important thing is to make sure everyone is accounted for and in a place of safety. That will most likely include guests and loved ones of the entire party, so as to reassure the players and staff.
Then there will be a consultation with police, match officials, stadium security, the SFA and, almost certainly, the sponsors, who expect full bang-for-their-buck.
Typically, briefings are informal because the club communications people have to establish the facts and liaise with their SFA counterparts. Holding statements – brief summaries of the club's position that commit to little – are released.
And then, when the dust settles, decisions have been made and order restored, there will be a press conference. A proper one – not one man in a darkened room reading out a statement he has just put together, when he could not possibly have taken all of the aforementioned steps
Add to that that not one club official or player has commented on the game – unprecedented in my lifetime of watching football – and there is room for suspicion that Jim Traynor's statement was not relaying facts or genuine concerns but, instead, was moving quickly (a little too quickly) to create the media narrative.
What was the reason? We don't yet know. Did one of those victimised players or officials have a rush of blood and do something he expected to get into serious trouble for (who was the official aiming a kick at a supporter)?
Did Traynor know that the club was facing disaster due to the loss of potential Europa League revenue and season ticket sales, as some have suggested?
What we do know is that the Ibrox spin machine went haywire in claiming victimhood.
We were even told that every single Rangers player and official was assaulted, which had already been refuted before that statement was made.
What are we supposed to believe – that Kenny Miller, who Anthony Stokes praised for sportingly congratulating every Hibs player in their dressing room – has no words for the supporters after what will surely be his last Scottish Cup final?
That Mark Warburton is similarly derisive of the club's fans after a season in which they have just been promoted?
That not one player has agreed to talk to the media? If that is the case, there are only two conceivable reasons – that they have been warned to shut up or that they, collectively, have refused to say what the club wants them to say.
And then they signed self-confessed, Celtic-supporting, IRA-sympathising, Rangers-baiting, Royal-hating Joey Barton on £100,000-a-month*– and only Davie Weir is there to greet him.
Is this one last despairing move to shift season tickets to try to keep the club solvent? Does the club know that an insolvency event will render his contract meaningless? Or is his salary being paid by Gefinor?
The Ibrox club management have shown themselves incapable of financial governance and, at the same time, made the game ungovernable.
But could the “Big House” of cards finally be about to fall down?
*The original version of this said £100k-a-week. Thanks to the readers who pointed out the typo.
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