Shameless bullying of inept opponents does nothing for sportsmanship or competition
I have never been a big brother. I have, however, been a younger brother.
Some of you will know how it feels (fraternal-sororial relations can have a similar dynamic).
Big bro is forced to play a ballgame with you.
He grudgingly goes along with it for a while, even occasionally being supportive and perhaps maybe instructive.
But he tires of of this. Because it's too easy, because it’s not cool and because his heart was never in it in the first place.
He scores again and again, however hard you try.
He starts to try stupid tricks, just to entertain himself by teasing you. And he can pull them off because you are younger and weaker than him.
And then, he picks up the ball and holds it above his head. You know how it feels.
You jump but he is taller and his arms are longer. You try to push him but he’s heavier and stronger.
It’s frustrating and not fair but he won’t stop and won’t even play the game with you.
Eventually, you get called in for your tea, which ends the misery but leaves you hating him and, perhaps with tears, saying: “Just you wait! One day!”
It’s absolutely not cool and is, in fact, a form of bullying, which might be forgiven when perpetrated by adolescents but never by fully-grown adults.
So, I was dismayed to see Celtic bullying The Rangers in a similar manner on Sunday.
Sure, their opponents didn’t really belong on the same park and were only even there at all because the patriarchs of Scottish football used their authority to insist that the Little Boys Blue be allowed to play.
But nobody gains from toying with the opposition and taking advantage of their obvious weakness and ineptitude.
Andy Murray didn’t become a Wimbledon singles champion because his brother Jamie got bored with competing and held him down, saying: “Stop hitting yourself.”
For the first five goals, Celtic were playing an honourable game – “respecting their opponents” – and actually competing.
But the players seemed to forget that seven, eight, nine or ten goals would have shown more regard for their fellow professionals on the field – and even taught them something for a future date – than sauntering around casually swinging at the ball and generally acting the annoying big brother with some kid who only moved in six years ago and has been pleading for acceptance, ever since.
Instead, the extreme superiority of Celtic was used in order to leave admirable pros like Graham Dorrans, Andy Halliday, Daniel Candeilas and Alfredo Morelos, saying, “Just you wait”, through gritted, gnashing teeth.
Mark these words – the Celtic players will rue the day that they bullied and toyed with those grudge-bearing children from the neighbourhood.
Some time very soon, The Rangers are coming.
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