Keep the faith

 

Keep the faith

Former UK Prime Minister Harold Wilson is credited with saying that ‘A week is a long time in Politics.’ Much can change in a week in the world of football too and the past week has witnessed Celtic playing three games without recording a win. Those bald statistics may accurately inform us that Celtic are lacking in certain areas of the team at the moment but equally they disguise that fact that for periods of all three games Celtic looked as if they could record a positive result.

The Europa league match against AC Milan was one of those games in which you sensed the side was nervous and uncomfortable at the start. Whether that is down to confidence or formation is a point of conjecture but the introduction of creativity in the shape of Tom Rogic and Ryan Christie seemed to stir the team to a much more effective second half display and they game the Italians a tough time before being suckered in the final minutes. The result didn’t reflect the balance of play but a telling statistic is that AC Milan’s last two shots on goal in the 42^nd and 92^nd minutes were both goals. When the chances come along at this level they have to be taken. Celtic had 13 shots at goal in the match with just two on target. Milan had 6 with 3 of them on target and finding the net.

At Pittodrie last weekend defensive errors gifted Aberdeen two penalties and gave them a point their robust play on a wild windy day probably deserved but to lose a goal deep into injury time suggests Celtic have difficulty closing out games at the moment. To see Celtic streaming forward in the dying moments of a match they were already leading in had me shouting at the TV. Games need to be managed at that stage. I’m not suggesting breaking up the play with treatment for feigned injuries or sending on substitutes with a minute to go but don’t commit too many players to attack when the game is in the bag; shut the back door!

So Celtic then flew to France to face a Lille side sitting joint top of their league and in sparkling form. This was always going to be a very tough fixture and few Celtic supporters expected otherwise. The team’s performance in the first half was one of the best from a Celtic side away from home in Europe in recent times and the score line did not flatter them. Indeed there were chances to add to the 2-0 lead Celtic had. Again defensive errors hurt Celtic as Duffy gave away a needless penalty with a clumsy tackle only to see Scott Bain bail the team out with a good save.  Lille’s second half onslaught was expected and for the most part Celtic defended well with Laxalt looking very impressive. The Hoops though were undone from a set play when they failed to clear a cross and the ball broke to an unmarked player at the back post who bundled it home. The equaliser also came from a cross which was allowed to bounce around the box before a deflected shot  hit the net. For all their huffing and puffing Lille never cut Celtic open but with defensive errors like that they didn’t need to. The excellent Elyounoussi could have restored Celtic’s lead immediately but delayed the shot and was crowded out and Celtic had to settle for the draw.

In normal circumstances a score draw away to a team at the top of the French league would be seen as a good result but needless to say elements of the Scottish media portrayed it as a bad night. This chipping away at Celtic’s confidence by some in the printed media is fairly transparent and expected,  but what is more surprising is the way some of Celtic own followers use social media to berate the team. Personal attacks on the manager and calls for his sacking following a spell of games without a win is counter-productive. Of course supporters are entitled to have opinions on the team and no one should be immune from criticism regarding its performances but some of the personal abuse online of late has been way over the top.

For a minority, weaned on unbroken success in recent years, it smacks of the sort of hubris and entitlement mentality we saw in the Murray years at Ibrox. There is no divine right to win and every team goes through rough patches in a season. Celtic are clearly missing a top class goalkeeper in Fraser Forster who decided to leave and sit on Southampton’s bench and Barkas as yet has failed to look anything other than ordinary. He deserves time after coming to a new country in these strange times and having to settle in and learn about how the game is played in Scotland. More importantly though, a clutch of other their top players have been missing from the side in recent games. Edouard, Forrest, Elhamed, Christie and Jullien would be a big loss to any side. Add to that the fact that Celtic’s symbiotic relationship with their fans isn’t there this season due to Covid 19 and it’s clear they do miss their backing.

Only a fool would fail to accept that Rangers are developing into a decent team with a defined shape and fighting spirit. Perhaps some of the reaction to Celtic’s recent problems among hoops fans is based on the knowledge that they may not collapse like a pack of cards as they did in early 2020. A club with their budget wasn’t likely to stay in the doldrums forever and that challenge must now be met. This season being historically important because of the possibility of the ‘Ten’ is adding to the tension some are feeling. No one wants to blow this historic opportunity but the prizes are given out in May not October. Let Celtic get their top team on the park, sort out the defence and formation issues and they will demonstrate why they have dominated the Scottish game for so long.

 Celtic proved in that first half in Lille and the second half against Milan that if they play with confidence, a high tempo and crucially in a formation they find comfortable then they are a good team. If they can produce that form for 90 minutes then someone will be due a spanking. Injured players are drifting back and the squad will be back to near full strength soon. Tomorrow’s cup semi-final with Aberdeen is the first opportunity to demonstrate that Celtic remain a team to be reckoned with in Scotland. The opportunity for a fourth consecutive treble is there to be grasped and Celtic should take it.

I’ve watched Celtic now for literally decades and each season has its own narrative. This one will have many twists and turns yet before it is settled. No one can tell what damage the ongoing pandemic will do to this season but hopefully it will be played to a finish. I still remain confident that Celtic has the best squad in the country and as the winter progresses and fixtures and injuries pile up: that fact will be important.

Keep the faith; there is a long way to go. I remain confident that when the prizes are given out the Glasgow Celtic will be there.

Dalglish

 

Dalglish

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon with no Celtic to watch and I noticed that the excellent documentary ‘Kenny’ was on TV. I watched it a couple of years back but thought it worth another look. It details the life of Kenny Dalglish in his family during his time as a player and later manager at Liverpool. Of course, we of a Celtic persuasion need no reminding of the superb footballer Kenny was. There are those who think he became a better player when he left Scotland to further his career in the bigger pond of English football. As someone who followed his career at Celtic and Liverpool I think he was playing with a higher standard of player in England and flourished more fully but he was superb at Celtic too.

Kenny and his family allowed a lot of private video footage to be shown and it gave a picture of a normal family life with Christmas morning when his children were small being especially touching. He comes across as a decent family man blessed with incredible footballing ability. It was this ability which lifted the lad from High Possil Senior Secondary school to a lifestyle he could only dreamed of as a boy. It wasn’t all plain sailing though as both West Ham and Liverpool had him in England for trials and sent him home without signing him up in 1966. The following year the Rangers mad youngster was snapped up by Celtic and became part of that excellent ‘quality street gang’ generation of young players. The likes of McGrain, Macari, Connelly, Kenny and many others coming through at Celtic Park would have very good careers in the game although none of them, apart from perhaps Danny McGrain, reached the heights Kenny did in the game.

Having lived in England for a decade myself I know the pressure which exists to take the rough edge of the Scottish accent or perhaps lose it altogether but Kenny always had that Glaswegian gravel in his voice despite spending over 40 years living down south. He was and remains very much his own man and that strength of character helped him achieve so much in the game.  His list of honours with both Celtic and Liverpool is extensive in both domestic and European football and he holds the record as Scotland’s most capped player. He has given millions of supporters sublime moments to remember with his skill on the field of play and the documentary rightly reflects this but perhaps his pinnacle as a man and a human being came after the events of April 15th 1989.

Sometimes we remember where we were when we hear certain pieces of news. Some people refer to them as ‘JFK moments’ and will tell you what they were doing when they heard of the death of Princess Diana or the 9/11 attacks. For me one such moment came on that fateful day in the spring of 1989. I was in a carpet shop of all places on Corn Street in the Oxfordshire Market town of Witney. A group us huddled around a radio in those pre-internet days and listened in disbelief as horror of Hillsborough unfolded. It is a matter of public record that the tragedy of that day was compounded by a dreadful Police cover up and a wicked tabloid campaign to smear Liverpool fans. Dalglish was Liverpool manager that day and would have known very quickly that something awful was unfolding.

Dalglish was a young Celtic player on the verge of his first team breakthrough when the tragedy at Ibrox in 1971 claimed the lives of 66 football fans. Although he didn’t play in that game, he would have been as stunned as everyone involved in Scottish football was at that lamentable incident. Nothing, it was thought, could eclipse the pain and scale of the Ibrox disaster but even that tragedy was surpassed by events at Hillsborough where 96 human beings lost their lives. The city of Liverpool was shattered; indeed the whole of the football world was utterly shocked by the events which occurred that April day in Sheffield. For those intimately involved in Liverpool Football club it was to be devastating experience which still haunts them. The scars may slowly heal but the pain and loss will last a lifetime for those who lost loved ones.

For Kenny Dalglish and all of those involved in Liverpool football club knew they had to be part of the healing process and be there for the families who needed them in that darkest of hours. The physical, mental and emotional strain on Dalglish and his wife Marina in the days and weeks after Hillsborough can only be imagined. He attended as many of the funerals of victims of the disaster as he could, including attending four in one day. Alan Hansen recalled, tears in his eyes, that one father approached him at a funeral and said simply, ‘seventeen, he was seventeen.’ His solidarity with the ordinary people of Liverpool was described at the time as heroic and one ordinary Scouser said, ‘We’ve adopted him now, Glasgow can’t have him back.’ Dalglish’s actions in the aftermath of Hillsborough naturally took their toll on him and in one poignant scene in the documentary he gazes from a hill in Sheffield towards the stadium in the distance where those events took place. Even all these years later the pain in his voice was palpable.

As Liverpool FC took their first painful steps back to playing football, it was fitting that they visited Celtic Park, Kenny’s old stamping ground. The warm embrace Celtic supporters gave both the Liverpool supporters and their team that day was a mark of true solidarity. We were all football fans and in those days we knew that but for the grace of God the events of Hillsborough could have occurred in any of the antiquated stadiums of the time. Celtic fans themselves had near misses at Nottingham Forrest in 1983-84 season and in that league clinching match with Dundee in 1988. The bond they forged with Liverpool supporters that day in 1989 remains strong and it was no coincidence that Celtic supporters were among their staunchest allies in the long struggle for Justice for the 96 who lost their lives at Hillsborough.

Kenny Dalglish quit as Liverpool manager in February 1991 and looking back he had lived with so much stress that the break was probably necessary to his mental and physical well-being. He would return in time to Blackburn Rovers and even a spell at Celtic. Reading the stats of his wonderful career demonstrates that he was among the best footballers of his generation. A truly world class player and highly successful manager but that list of honours, caps, goals and awards doesn’t describe the decency of the man who stepped up to the plate when his people were in pain and needed him.

In memories view I see Kenny hit an unstoppable swerving shot into the top corner at Tannadice on a winter’s day in late 1976. In my mind’s eyes he turns a Spanish defender and curls a beautiful shot  into the net as a packed Hampden roared its approval.

There were a thousand moments of subliminal skill to recount in his fine career but none were as beautifully poignant as him holding a grieving mother and sharing in her pain.

Kenny Dalglish, a wonderful footballer and a better human being.

Fixing the Dam

 

Fixing the Dam

In the spring of 1993 Celtic were in the midst of one of those seasons where false dawns and raised hopes were the norm for their long suffering fans. They could go from the heights of beating Rangers and ending their 45 match unbeaten run to losing at Fir Park a fortnight later. At that point Celtic were 5 years into a spell in the wilderness which would last until 1998. Celtic’s record in derby matches that season in the SPL was 1-1, 0-1, 0-1 & 2-1. In every one of those games Celtic had the lion’s share of chances and only poor finishing saw them lose two of the games. Celtic’s problem wasn’t so much dealing with Rangers that year as dropping points to the lesser sides in the league. A dozen draws and 8 defeats in a 44 game campaign would see them finish third in the league that season a distant 13 points behind Rangers.

Contrasting the Celtic side of the early 1990s with the side steamrolling their way to nine successive titles today is probably unfair but the side containing the likes of Collins, McStay, Boyd, Galloway, Payton and Grant gave their all in derby matches because they knew their importance to the fans. Today’s performance from Celtic was probably the weakest display I have seen from a Celtic side in a derby for 30 years or more. There were mitigating circumstances in that Celtic were missing talisman Odsonne Edouard as well as Forrest, Biton, Jullien and Christie, a major loss to any side. However most of these players played in the League Cup Final in December 2019 and the League match at Celtic Park that December. Celtic won the league cup despite playing poorly on the day and lost the league match against highly motivated opponents. Add that to today’s display and it’s clear to see that Rangers currently have the upper hand in derby games. They are far from brilliant but remain a competent, organised side, which operates well as a unit. Celtic in contrast, look a little disjointed and too reliant on individuals to make something happen. The damage done today is far from fatal to Celtic’s title hopes but the Hoops will need to find a pattern of play which suits their players and show a bit more guile and fight than they did today.

It is an old cliché that you are never more than two games from a crisis at a club like Celtic but a look at Celtic’s upcoming fixture list suggests this will be a very tough spell in the season for them. Between now and the first week in December Celtic will play: AC Milan (H) Aberdeen (A) Lille (A) Aberdeen (N) Sparta Prague (H) Motherwell (A) Hibs (A) Sparta Prague (A) & AC Milan (A). That is a hugely tough schedule and Celtic will need to improve to keep within striking distance at the top of the league. Most fans would probably forgo a decent European run if they could keep the dream of a tenth straight title alive into the New Year.

The recriminations began online even before the game was over. Many blamed Neil Lennon although in fairness his injury list was a lengthy one and some on the bench today looked less than 100% fit. Some more strident voices argued the players looked disorganised and disinterested and that this lies at the Managers door. Rangers dropping into a narrow, compact formation when Celtic had the ball made it difficult to go through their midfield and Celtic were forced out wide. Unfortunately young Frimpong and new boy Laxalt had mediocre games and failed to supply much ammunition for the strikers to work with. Frimpong is still only 19 and Laxalt playing in his first game so perhaps are due some slack. Other more experienced players failed to turn up and that is more concerning. Celtic also misses their fans. Few sets of supporters drive the side on the way the Hoops legions do in those big games.

John F Kennedy once said, ‘Victory has a thousand fathers while defeat is an orphan.’ Well this defeat needs to be owned by us all and we need to learn the lessons it teaches us. Today was a warning: the dam didn’t break but the first crack appeared. Action is required now to motivate and organise this group of players. Celtic has no divine right to win and every match needs to be won on graft, fight and effort. Celtic hasn’t been firing on all cylinders so far this season and only some late winners and narrow wins have glossed over this. They need to get the players who were grumbling about leaving in the transfer window to shut up, knuckle down and do what they are paid to do. They need to get the injury list down and key men back in the squad. They need to find a cohesive game plan and players willing to bust a gut for the team.

The basis of success in football is to be found in organisation, fighting spirit, effort and adaptability. Rangers didn’t have to be brilliant to win today but they got those basics right. Celtic need to match that before they can win the right to play the football we all know they are capable of. I still think the Hoops have a better squad overall but they aren’t yet playing to their potential. It is now up to everyone at the club to rally round and refocus on the job at hand. There is no time to feel sorry for yourself in professional football; the next game is always just a few days away. Today is gone-learn from it and move on. The season is still young and those who celebrate tonight should bear in mind that Jeremie Frimpong was nine years old when Rangers last won the league. It remains a marathon, not a sprint.

Pick yourselves up, Celtic, dust yourselves down and start playing like the champions you are. There is much still to fight for!

 

 

Hidden from the World

 

Hidden from the World

 

Eastern seaboard May 2160

Hansen sat in the control seat of the small Explorer Class flying vehicle which instantly came to life when it registered his presence. The dashboard in front of him lit up and the reassuring feminine A.I. voice he always used spoke to him. ‘Greetings Professor Hansen, your planned trip has been cleared by the Board of Control and the coordinates logged into my system. The weather is clear and radiation levels in the target area are stable. You are permitted to stay in the research zone for 12 hours.’ Hansen exhaled before saying in a fairly monotone voice, ‘Switch to KAI.’ The dashboard lights blinked once before dimming and the K class A.I. Android which sat motionless in the seat beside him opened its eyes and turned its head towards him and said in a monotone but not unpleasant voice, ‘KAI fully operational, Professor and awaiting your instructions.’ Hanson glanced at the perfectly formed android beside him. It was dressed in the livery of the University and looking for all the world as human as he did. To the untrained eye it looked like a young man of perhaps 30 years but anyone who knew the K class androids could spot the tell-tale signs of manufacture. KAI had an encyclopaedic data base for a brain, never got tired and occasionally infuriated him with its cold, precise logic, but that apart it was a remarkable piece of engineering. It seemed there was nothing man could dream up, good or bad, that he couldn’t make reality.

‘Prepare for lift off, Kai, North Atlantic-flight lane 8,’ he said quietly. The android ran the final diagnostic checks of the ship in under a second and the Explorer glided silently off the ground and headed east over the black, brooding ocean. ‘Stream data, Kai’ Hanson said turning to look at the stream of news the Board of Control chose to plasma-cast. Moving images and text seemed to float in in the air in front of his eyes; Food riots in the cities, famine in China, the war grinding on out west and the grim battle for resources seemingly ongoing all over the planet. Mankind, it seemed, had a stupendous ability to make the wrong decisions. As the Explorer reached 90% of optimal speed and left the land far behind, Hansen pondered the mission he was undertaking. The histories of the great European catastrophe of the previous century were incomplete. It was known that the initial nuclear explosion had taken place on the west coast of what was once called Scotland but was it a first strike or a calamitous accident? The Sino-Russian forces of the time had always claimed it was an accident but the defence forces of the western alliance had immediately struck at them. The outcome was the end of Western Europe and 20% of humanity. Now only a bleak wasteland remained-uninhabitable and poisoning the surrounding ocean and the air with its toxicity. Only now over 140 years later was the radiation level reduced enough to make brief visits possible. His mission was to compliment the work of the Intel-drones which had mapped, photographed and scanned the area as if it were a distant planet. The Board of Control had pinpointed the area where the first explosion of the catastrophe had taken place and it was his job to carry out an assessment which might answer the question that had puzzled historians; was the great catastrophe started by an accident?

 Few people had visited the forbidden zone since the war and all were sworn to level 5 secrecy protocols. Hansen had heard of an academic from the Midwest who shared his research on the ether-web and had been exiled to one of the prison islands where his skill set was unlikely to keep him alive for long. Hansen turned to the android sitting passively on his left, ‘Kai what is our ETA?’  The android looked at him with perfect yet empty eyes, ‘Estimated time till arrival at research site is one hour and four minutes. Sat-link confirms moderate weather conditions and radiation levels in yellow zone.’  Hanson nodded, ‘any signs of complex life in landing zone?’ ‘Negative, single celled organisms and basic algae have been detected but the zone is still highly radioactive. You are reminded of the 12 hour rule in the zone. Longer periods of exposure to ionizing radiation may lead to cellular degradation and autophagy.’

Hansen stroked the greying stubble on his chin with his fingers as he thought. If he could prove how the initial explosion had been caused, be it a first strike missile or some sort of accident, and write it up in the journals it could have big implications for his life. The Board of Control had the power to increase his academic budget, get him out of his crummy apartment and into a better one or even increase his food allocation. This one man trip across a sterile ocean was an important one. ‘Approaching the west coast or Ireland,’ Kai’s voice said cutting into his thoughts. Hansen glanced below at a barren and empty land. Those who had survived the war had fled west across the ocean where the healthy had been separated from those affected by the radiation. Those who could work were allowed entry and allocated a life of drudgery as every acre of arable land was put to use producing food during the years of the great shortage. Those who could not work were simply dumped on an island off the Virginia coast and awaited their inevitable fate. They were harsh times and it didn’t sit well with Hanson that his increasingly insular country had treated the European refugees so harshly but then the reactionary and frankly racist government of the time played on the fears of the people at a time of great uncertainty. He had watched the surviving video footage from those days and saw the frightened faces of the Irish refugees talking to the camera with their now extinct accents.

The Explorer crossed the body of water separating Ireland from Scotland in under two minutes and dropped down to 100m before hovering above the ruins of a city. ‘You are in a yellow zone area. You have 11 hours and 42 minutes to complete your work and return to the ship.’ Kai said. His programming made it his number one priority to protect human life and he would do anything to ensure Hansen returned west in one piece. ‘Take us down Kai,’ Hanson said. ‘Find us a safe landing zone.’ The ship skimmed over the blackened corpses of buildings which were slowly decomposing. Hanson could see the channel where a river once ran but now it was a tar coloured scar on the land. Kai guided the ship gently to the ground in an open area surrounded on all sides by twisted, rusting metal and blackened concrete. It may have been a public square or sports field before the war but it now it offered a relatively flat landing zone. A light rain started to fall. Droplets of contaminated, grey water ran down the Explorer’s windshield, as if it were crying for all that had been lost. A weak rainbow arced over the ruins giving them a forlorn look. ‘Time to suit up,’ Hansen said to no one in particular as he unbuckled himself and headed to the small store room to the rear of the ship. To survive in the zone he’d need all his technology.

Hansen set up his radiation monitors amid the ruins of a dead city. His small intel-drones, no bigger than his hand, zipped over ruins taking measurements and scanning for tell-tale blast marks. He glanced around the charred piles of concrete and twisted metal looking for a vantage point to view the scene with his own eyes. Kai stayed within a few metres of him scanning for danger and monitoring radiation levels. Hansen began to climb the largest pile of rubble and found it tiring work in his survival suit. Kai’s voice echoed inside his helmet, ‘You have 8 hours and 23 minutes to return to the ship.’  Hansen was nearing the summit of the pile of debris when something gave way beneath his feet. He felt the ground rushing up to meet him and crashed through it into a dark cavity below. His shoulder collided with something solid and sent a jarring pain through his body. He landed heavily on a pile of jagged rubble which impacted on the right side of his chest and knocked the breath completely from him. His last conscious thought was, ‘you stupid son of a…’ before darkness closed around him like an inky sea.

A gentle voice was speaking to him. ‘Wake up, you have to wake up.’ Hansen wanted to stay unconscious, wanted the peace of sleep but the voice was insistent, ‘wake up, wake up now. There isn’t much time.’ The voice spoke with the same soft accent of those Irish refugees from the old news footage he had watched years ago. Hansen opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the almost total darkness. He breathed heavily and slowly focused on where he was. Who had called him out of sleep? Perhaps it had been his own survival instinct? He had no idea how long he had been unconscious but quickly sensed he was in deep trouble. His body was stiff and hurt in a dozen places but his visor was still functioning despite a long crack on the face. He pushed himself to a sitting position, a stabbing pain in his right shoulder making him wince, and reached to the top of his helmet with his left hand. Even in the darkness he could feel that his communication pod was broken. He was on his own although he knew Kai would stop at nothing to find him. He reached gingerly across his body and retrieved a small torch which remarkably was intact. A beam of white light scanned the darkness. He was in a large hollow beneath the rubble pile. He shone the light onto his wrist where his rad-counter showed him that he was now in an orange radiation zone. It meant only one thing; he needed to get out of here and do it very soon or he’d absorb a fatal dose of radiation.

He shone the torch around the dark cavern he found himself in. He could see in the torch’s beam of light twisted metal contorted into grotesque shapes, shattered concrete and suddenly to his shock a human face. He gasped as his brain took a second to register the fact that it was the remains of a statue. The kindly face of a man seemed to be regarding him. ‘You stuck down here too, buddy?’ he said with a sardonic smile. ‘Looks like I might be joining you.’ Hansen eased himself towards the statue, which was three quarters covered in debris and dust. He wiped the dust from the face and regarded the features more closely. The handsome bronze face stared at him, ‘I wonder who you were, pal?’  Close to the statue and covered in dust ay a rectangular bronze plaque. Hansen carefully cleaned the surface hoping to see a name. Instead he saw an image of what appeared to be a table with some figures standing around it. Lower in the image a child appeared to be playing with a ball. On the base of the plaque were carved words which read, ‘Ignoto et quasi occulti in hoc mundo.’ Hansen exhaled, ‘Latin, another dead language. He’d have to look that up some other time.

A noise distracted and he turned slowly to see one of his small intel-drones, hovering a metre above him. It relayed the familiar monotone voice of Kai. ‘Professor Hansen, I have located your position. I need to extricate you very soon. Please stand by.’ Hanson laughed, ‘Kai you son of a bitch, I knew you wouldn’t give up.’ Kai responded with a characteristic lack of humour, ’I need to remove some larger pieces of concrete and metal. There is a danger of a cave in but we have no option.’ Hansen nodded, ‘Do it Kai and do it now.’ Almost as an afterthought he added, ‘and get the intel-drone to photograph this hollow Kai, it’ll make a helluva story.’

It was dark when Kai finally carried Hansen out of the hollow and back to the ship like a father carrying a son. He laid Hanson in his now reclined flying seat and quickly applied pain relieving medication. He carried out a diagnostic scan before saying in an emotionless voice ‘You have five broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a fracture to your right ankle and a variety of cuts and abrasions but no major organs are damaged.’  Hansen smiled, ‘Thanks Doc, now take us home.’

Eight Weeks later

Hansen made his report to the Deputies of the Board of Control on a bright spring morning. The initial blast which led to the great European catastrophe of the previous century was caused not by an incoming missile but by an explosion at a base for nuclear submarines on the coast. The data from the intel-drones was conclusive; the war which destroyed Europe had been caused by an accident. They panel listened carefully to his evidence, stopping him now and then to question him on key points. They nodded and applauded politely at the end of his presentation a clear sign his work had been well received.

Afterwards as they ate and discussed his findings more informally one of the Deputies asked him, ‘What of the statue in the cavern?’ Did you ascertain who it was?’ Hanson nodded, ‘Yes. Kai ran it through his data banks and discovered that it was a statue of a nineteenth century humanitarian. A good man who wanted to feed the poor.’ The grey haired old Deputy nodded, a slightly sad look on his face, ‘we could do with a few men like that today.’

Hansen thought of the kindly face on the bronze statue he had encountered in such extraordinary circumstances. His research had taught him that the man it represented would have had an accent much like that of the refugees he had watched in the old newscasts. It was an accent like that which had called him back to consciousness when time was running out for him. The mind played strange tricks when our survival is on the line, he thought to himself. 

That’s all it was, his survival instinct kicking in… wasn’t it?

The above story was written after a friend said he'd make a donation to a charity fundraiser I'm doing if he could decide the genre. I agreed and he then said, 'OK, it has to be science fiction!'  The story was in response to that and written with the best intentions.. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did feel free to support this great cause. Thank you. 

https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/tirnaog09

 

Beating the Bin Men

 

Beating the Bin Men

I had one of those brief discussions Scottish football fans occasionally have online. It began when I posted a clip on social media of Henrik Larsson’s sublime chip over Stefan Klos in that memorable 6-2 victory over Rangers in August 2000. A fan of Manchester United, ironically from Dublin, commented ‘Good player but he was playing against bin men.’ I put him right about the Rangers team that day which consisted of 11 internationals but as is usual with the ‘my Nan’ brigade he wasn’t listening.

It strikes me as odd that some followers of English football have an almost pathological dislike of Scottish football and go out of their way to insult it whenever they can. You wonder if some German fans do this to the Swiss or Danish League or if Italians spend their time running down the Serbian or Croatian league. I somehow doubt it as they realise that you need to compare like with like to have a true comparison. Scotland has a population of 5.4 million people while England has over ten times more people with 56 million. It is obvious that England can support far more big clubs than Scotland can and the financial benefits of having such a huge potential TV audience are obvious. A fairer contrast would be between Scottish football and leagues such as those in Belgium, Austria, Sweden, Croatia or Denmark, countries with a similar population. Historically Scottish clubs have had far more success in Europe than such countries and their average top league attendance figures are far higher. Of Course Celtic and Rangers have a huge influence on the attendance figures in Scotland but are nonetheless part of the league.

The historical and current dominance of Celtic and Rangers is one of the factors used to run down Scottish football. In truth it must be hard for fans of other clubs to watch these two clubs waltz off with 106 titles while the rest share under 20 between them. Such dominance isn’t uncommon in smaller countries; in Portugal where the big three of Benfica, Sporting and FC Porto dominate only 2 titles have ever been won by teams outside that triumvirate. (Belenenses and Boavista) That is 2 out of 88 national championships.

Scottish football for all its’ built in flaws and clannishness holds most of the attendance records in Europe. Consider the following statistics…

Record attendance at a European game: 136,505  Celtic v Leeds United

Record attendance at a domestic cup tie 147,365  Celtic v Aberdeen

Record attendance at a league match: 118,567 Rangers v Celtic

Record attendance at an International match 149,415 Scotland v England

Of course these crowds occurred in the dim and distant past and the reduction of stadium capacities means the records will probably never be broken. They do indicate though the Scottish love affair with football which still continues.

The passing game the world knows today was invented in Scotland and a look at the early international record of games between Scotland and England demonstrates that it was the future of football. Scotland’s first 15 internationals with England saw the English win just twice as Scotland’s more scientific approach gave them a few footballing lessons in how the game should be played. Scottish victories included score lines such as 7-2, 6-1 and 5-1. Most top English club sides of the era were packed with Scots, indeed the English football league was founded in 1888 by William McGregor, a Scot.

Of course Scottish supporters today know that the lack of serious competition to the two big Glasgow clubs remains a difficult conundrum to solve. The financial disparity between them and the rest of the league is stark and driven by their huge fan bases. It is frustrating though to see teams like Motherwell, St Mirren or even St Johnstone take 20,000 supporters to a cup final and play to under a quarter of that in their home league matches. It is what it is though but the Scottish game does need to look for solutions to the financial problems it has. In days past home clubs shared the gate receipts 50-50 with the visiting side. Thus, as happened in the 1970s, St Johnstone played at Celtic Park in a vital league match for the home side in front of 60,000 fans and headed home with thousands of pounds in the kitty despite only bringing a few hundred fans. Those days will not return though so perhaps a more equitable share of TV money would help? Instead of gaining a share based on finishing position in the league, which reinforces the dominance of the big clubs, why not simply pool the money and give all clubs an equal share? Or more radically give the teams at the bottom more of the TV money to help them compete?

In America, the National Football League (NFL) has a draft system which sees clubs finishing lower down the leagues having first pick of the new talent emerging in the game. It infuses them with new blood and at least tries to balance the availability of good players across the league. That will never happen in football of course, as clubs who invest in youth will never cede ‘ownership’ of a player to the league but it does show some out of the box thinking. Could we envisage a limit on foreign players to reduce big club’s power to buy in talent from abroad? Or a salary cap to reduce wealthier club’s financial advantage? A bigger league might allow teams more space to attack and entertain?

All of this speculation can’t disguise the fact that Celtic and Rangers are too big for Scottish football but as yet have nowhere to go to maximise their potential. A Scottish game minus them would flourish as Aberdeen, Hibs, Hearts and others entered each new season with genuine hope of being champions. It wouldn’t, as some suggest, descend to league of Ireland status. How ironic the EPL fanboy I interacted with supports an English team as many in his native Ireland do. The domestic league in Ireland struggles to push average attendances above 2000 as hundreds of thousands of Irish folk follow the English game. That scenario may be linked to immigration patterns, Irish players playing in England or simply the sort of behaviour critics call glory hunting. For all the flaws of the Scottish game it isn’t forced to watch thousands of supporters head for England to watch Premiership sides each weekend. Our fans seem more loyal to the domestic game.

As youngsters most of us had a favourite team in England but it was a distinct second team which couldn’t compete with the affection we had for our team in Scotland. These days the English Premiership is packed with expensive foreign stars, up to 65% of players aren’t eligible to play for England, yet it leaves me cold and I have only a passing interest in it. The ‘my nan’ brigade will never detract from my enjoyment of the Scottish game. Sure it could be better and it has lacked inspirational leadership but it has an honest, raw passion about it which I love. It also has supporters who are second to none and get behind their teams.

When Celtic defeated Barcelona in 2012 an English reporter at the match commented..

‘Somewhere between madness and love, this fanaticism did for Barcelona on a night when the Celtic team and their disciples were indivisible. Money can’t buy you that.’