Dutchie

 

Dutchie

A hard frost settled on Sauchiehall Street as Dutchie shivered in his hoody. The best spots for begging a few quid were jealously guarded by those who wouldn’t hesitate to use violence to keep them, so he was forced further down towards the Glasgow Film Theatre. He sat on a cold, hard step and held his paper cup in front of him, his breath visible on the cold December air. The winter weather meant the centre of town wasn’t as busy and some nights pickings could be slim. He glanced above the smart buildings at a clear, cold sky. A voice made him refocus on the street. Two young men stood regarding him; one grinned, ‘here mate, ye want twenty quid?’ Dutchie had seen and heard it all during his two years on the streets but played along, lest they cut up rough. ‘Aye, mate. That’d be grand.’ The punch line duly arrived, ‘well get a job then ya lazy, junky bastard.’ As they departed laughing at their witticism, Dutchie shook his head. ‘Pricks.’

Two hours of sitting in the cold earned him the princely sum of £9.45. Five pounds of that had come from a kind faced woman who had simply said, ‘God bless,’ as she dropped a fiver into his used Costa Coffee cup. Just as he was thinking of heading towards the hostel by the Clyde, a man regarded him. ‘Hughie? Hughie Mulholland?’ Dutchie looked up at the smartly dressed man, unconsciously straightening out his rather worn hoody. ‘Aye, mate. Ah know you?’ He always felt self-conscious when someone he knew in his old life recognised him. His thin frame, lank, greasy hair and crumpled clothes spoke more eloquently than he ever could about how far he had fallen in life. ‘Davie Beatie, we went to St Mungo’s together?’ Dutchie stood rather awkwardly, ‘Aye, Davie! We played in the school team? You scored that goal that goal against John Street that started a riot.’ The man smiled, ‘Jesus, I’d forgotten about that. The school mini bus had the windows smashed.’ Dutchie smiled a gap-toothed smile, ‘thought we’d get lynched that day, mate!’

They regarded each other for a long moment, wondering what to say. Dutchie spoke first. ‘So, whit ur ye doing these days, Davie?’  His former school mate regarded him, ‘I work in the Royal Bank. Doing ok.’ He almost asked Dutchie what he was doing but thought better of it and said instead, ‘Listen mate, I’m heading China Buffet King for a bit of grub. Fancy a bite? Be better than the school meals at the Mungo.’ It was a small lie, but told for a good reason. Dutchie grinned, ‘that’s nice ay ye mate. I could dae wi a bit of scran.’ They walked back up Sauchiehall Street together towards the cheap and cheerful eatery which boasted you could eat your full for ten pounds. The man behind the counter eyed Dutchie up and down as he entered but said nothing. They sat in a quiet corner, Davie removing his overcoat. ‘What do you fancy? I’m thinking something hot as I’m bloody freezing.’ Dutchie followed him to the counter, ‘anything hot for me.’ They sat with their food, Davie noticing that Dutchie had piled his plate high. ‘Getting your money’s worth. Good for you,’ he smiled.

As they started to eat, Davie tactfully asked Dutchie about his life since school. He listened in silence, letting his old school mate do the talking. ‘I started in Asda, Davie. Never much intae school as ye know. Done a bit of warehouse work. Fork lift driving and the like. I got oan ok for a few years. I was living wi ma burd in Dennistoun but then three year back, the landlord said he was selling up and wanted us oot. I was getting daft wi the bevvy and the ‘Bob Hope’ then tae.  I suppose Caitlin just had enough and I cannae blame her. I was a complete prick then. Went back tae her maws. I lost my hoose, my burd and my joab, all in wan week. Ended up in the hostels and that just led tae mer stupid behaviour.’ Davie Baird nodded, ‘that’s tough, pal. You’ve had a lot to deal with.’ Dutchie replied without looking up from his plate, ‘Aye, suppose so, but I made a lot of wrong choices tae. There’s nae hiding fae that.’

They sat eating and talking for a couple of happy hours. They soke of happier days at school when all things seemed possible for them. Davie recalled the time when Dutchie had thrown an egg at a number 62 bus and it had entered a narrow gap in the driver’s window and hit him clean in the face. Dutchie laughed loudly, ‘fuckin Lee Harvey Oswald couldnae have got that shot better.’ Davie laughed too, ‘then the time you set of a fire extinguisher in the hall during Mass. Old Burnett, the Heady, was doing his nut!’ As the plates were cleared away and they drank some warm tea, Dutchie looked at Davie, his face looking less troubled. ‘Thanks for this, Davie. Nice tae feel human again.’ Davie smiled, ‘It’s been good chatting over old times.

As they stepped into the frigid air of a winter’s night, Davie shook Dutchie’s hand. ‘I meant to say, I’ll be volunteering at a Christmas lunch next week. All are welcome. Good chat, warm food and a few laughs. You up for it?’ Dutchie shrugged, ‘I’ll ask ma P.A tae check ma diary, might find and hour tae join ye.’  Davie laughed, ‘No need to write the address, it’s in a place you’ve been to a good few times before.’ Dutchie looked at him, a little mystified. ‘Aye, but ye better write it doon anyway.’ Davie handed him the paper and two twenty-pound notes. ‘Promise me you’ll come.’ Dutchie nodded, ‘I’ll be there, pal. Trust me on that.’ They parted with another handshake and Dutchie watched Davie turn up Rose Street and vanish from sight. He looked at the piece of paper in his hand and then the two twenties. He had a full belly and a few quid. Maybe tonight he’d settle for a warm bed and nothing else.

Davie Beatie walked among the tables making sure the guests had enough to eat and drink. The Foundation Celtic Christmas dinner was one of the highlights of his year. Meeting Hughie Mulholland had reminded him of his east end roots and the fact that not everyone had had the chances he had in life. He hoped Hughie would come along today. He gazed at the faces of the men and women around him chatting animatedly to each other. They were happy, freed from the stresses of poverty and loneliness, at least for a few hours anyway. His old friend Dermot approached him, ‘in some ways I hate that we have to do this in a country as rich as this one, but in another way it’s great that we do. That they know some folk still care.’ Davie smiled, ‘I hear you, brother. What’s that old saying of yours?’ Dermot smiled, ‘the difference between justice and charity is that justice demands social change, whilst charity responds to needs caused by injustice.’ Davie nodded, ‘you got that right. You’re still a socialist at heart, eh?’ Dermot shrugged, ‘maybe, but it’s more than that. It’s about being a decent human being.’

Outside the warm building, a figure was making his way up the towards the stadium. Dutchie Mulholland stopped at the bronze statue of a man sitting in a chair. It had been years since he’d been near the stadium, but it still held a place in his memory. He gazed into the kindly face of the statue, before touching the plinth with his hand and moving off. He’d stayed clean since he’d met Davie Baird and was ready to try again.

The good Brother would have approved. Everyone had a shot at redemption. Dutchie knew he had to give it another go. ‘Wan step at a time, Brother,’ he mumbled before continuing with a grin, ‘hope the turkey is still hoat.’ 

The statue seemed to smile a little. 

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Nemesis

 

Nemesis

I had one of those conversations this week which demonstrates how people construct reality based on their own innate desires and prejudices, rather than the facts. I was in Tibo, a nice café on Glasgow’s Duke Street, with a couple of friends when a ‘friend of a friend’ joined us. The topic got round to football and the chap commented that, Celtic’s current dominance is built on the fact that they conspired with others to ‘kick Rangers when they were down and get them relegated down the leagues.’ All of this was caused, in his mind, by jealousy and hatred for the Ibrox club. This line of argument was a bit of a red rag to a bull to me.

I tactfully reminded him that Rangers had imploded financially by spending more than they earned for years and operated an under the counter payment scheme to entice quality players to Scotland with the lure of tax-free money. (EBTs) This, and the staggering level of debt built up by a club in the low-income Scottish league led to administration and eventually a liquidation which left creditors ripped off for millions. As a bankrupted business, employees, including players, walked away and had Charles Green decided to build flats at Ibrox rather than create a new company there would be no one playing there today.

My now red-faced companion retorted, ‘the company went bust, a club can’t die.’ I replied that, ‘Third Lanark died and in Scots law there is no separation of club and company once an organisation incorporates.’ This fantasy about being ‘relegated’ was also spouted and I reminded him that Rangers were not relegated. The new entity applied for membership of the league and fans and clubs across the land baulked at the idea of them being given preferential access to the top league immediately. Like all new entities they’d have to work their way up from the bottom.

Of course, this caused an Everest of cognitive dissonance with my verbal sparring partner and he was not a happy man. His attempt to somehow portrait the old Rangers as victims, when they in fact cheated on an industrial scale, was as implausible as those Atletico Madrid fans who claim that the thugs who kicked Celtic off the Park in 1974 were victims of a bad referee and diving Celtic players. Most of us know the facts of what occurred in 2012 and aren’t buying this victimhood narrative. If anything, Rangers FC (1872) were fortunate the SFA lacked the guts to follow their own rules and strip them of trophies won during the EBT years. I wrote at the time…

‘All of these arguments about whether Rangers as it currently exists is a new or old club are in some respects a smoke screen hiding the real issue here- the EBT scheme which saw Rangers pay tens of millions of tax-free pounds to players they might not otherwise have tempted to Ibrox was and remains the real bone of contention. To be clear, these payments were not illegal but as the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom ruled, they were payments for playing for Rangers and as such should have been subject to tax. For Rangers to pay players in such a manner and to record it in side letters they subsequently hid from the SFA, broke player registration rules. As such players who represented Rangers whilst receiving EBT cash were in breach of SFA rules which state all contracts and payments to players be recorded with the governing body. It stretches credulity to ask us to believe that Rangers expected scores of footballers to pay back the EBT money they received. The money paid was not loans but wages, and those  in control at Ibrox at the time knew that.’

It all seems like an old debate and hardly worth rehashing after a decade but the fallout from 2012 is still with us. The Rangers of today still spends more than it earns but is learning that that it must have its limits or the same could happen again. Celtic’s dominance in the past decade is down to generating more income, running the club prudently and having 10,000 more seats which generate over £5m in revenue above and beyond what Rangers could in season ticket income. They have also bought well and made handsome profits on player sales.

Learning to live within your means is a hard lesson for those who watched the hubris and arrogance of the Murray years at Ibrox. The ‘if they put down a fiver, I’ll put down a tenner’ attitude of Mr Murray did for Rangers in the end and he sold HMS Rangers to Craig Whyte for £1, knowing full-well it was heading for an iceberg.

In Greek mythology, Hubris is seen as exhibiting excessive pride and arrogance, and it is usually followed by Nemesis. Those of you who saw the bloody, British gangster film ‘Snatch’ will recall the psycho gang boss ‘Bricktop’ describe Nemesis as…

‘A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent.’

For the Ibrox club of 2023, watching Celtic having the sort of dominance domestically which is as complete as any club has had in any era in Scottish football history, is an appropriate Nemesis. Of course, some will go through the list of organisations which state that Rangers are the same club. I don’t actually care. What matters is that sporting integrity demands that all clubs play by the same rule book. Paying players secret, tax-free money was clearly wrong and honest Rangers fans will concede this.

As we left the café, I asked the chap what he would say if Celtic had done the things Rangers did in those years. He smiled and replied, ‘exactly the same things you’re saying now about Rangers.’ I could see he was implying that I was exhibiting the same bias he had. I shrugged and replied, ‘but the facts don’t lie.’

I don’t think I’ll be on his Christmas card list.

Collateral Damage

 

Sitting in the incessant autumn rain watching Celtic struggle but ultimately prevail over a well drilled St Mirren side this week, it was obvious that something was missing. The drum beat of the Green Brigade, like traffic noise to city dwellers, is often only noticed when it stops. Celtic, in their wisdom, had decided to suspend the season tickets of some 250 of the ultras and their absence was noticed. Celtic’s reasoning was that there had been…‘increasingly serious escalation in unacceptable behaviours and non-compliance with applicable regulations.’ Celtic’s communique also spoke of the use of pyrotechnics, rushing the turnstiles at Motherwell, illegally gained access before the Lazio match, unauthorised banners and aggressive behaviour towards stewards.

The banner in the aftermath of the October 7th attacks which read 'Victory to the Resistance'  (Hamas translates as 'Islamic resistance') would have been viewed with particular alarm by the board as it seemed to lend, at least tacit support, for what had occurred. It was certainly viewed that way in parts of the British media and many with no love for Celtic. In truth, it was an ill thought out display which may have nudged the Celtic board to act.

The club had asked the group not to organise any display which referenced the ongoing conflict in Palestine-Israel.  Given the ongoing brutality of the Israeli assault on Gaza, that was always likely to fall on deaf ears. The group responded to the litany of charges laid before it by stating…  

 

‘It is undeniable that the sanctions imposed against those affiliated with the Green Brigade are as a result of the group's unapologetic solidarity with Palestine. The sanctions applied, most notably collective bans, are evidently unfair; bereft of policy, process and communications with individuals wrongfully being punished before receiving any allegation, any evidence, nor right of defence. We categorically deny sinister and defamatory allegations of 'breaking in and intimidating, threatening and abusive behaviour towards staff'."

 

It is clear that the fan group sees Celtic’s actions as being linked to their solidarity with the Palestinian people. The club can expect a fine from UEFA for the widespread display of Palestinian flags at the match with Atletico Madrid. The occupants of section 111 were not alone in displaying such flags as they were seen all around the stadium. There was some organisation to at least part of this as fans approaching the ground were offered free A3 sized printed flags. The large flags seen across the north stand were carried into place with some coordination before kick-off. That being said, there was clearly a significant number of Celtic supporters who were not from area 111 who wanted to demonstrate their solidarity and sympathy with the Palestinian people. It therefore seemed odd that Celtic made no effort to sanction anyone but those registered as members of the Green Brigade. There is little natural justice in punishing the innocent just to get at those they consider guilty.

 

It's an emotive and controversial issue and the debates online about the  political stance of the Green Brigade and the response of the club are rancorous and often bitter. No one in their right mind supports the slaughter of innocent civilians in any conflict and  what occurred in Israel on October the 7^th is as unacceptable as the onslaught now occurring in Gaza. The difference is of course the response of world leaders to the Israeli bombardment. Many leaders in the west parrot the line that Israel has the right to defend itself, and it has, but they are mealy mouthed when it is pointed out that almost nine thousand people have died in Gaza so far, the vast majority of them innocent civilians. The heart-breaking images we see online of children slaughtered and then described as collateral damage are deeply disturbing. Yet in pursuit of their big geo-political game, the powerful western countries are muted in their condemnation. It is that hypocrisy which rankles with many.

 

We have seen governments and even sporting organisations condemn Russia for its invasion of Ukraine yet the same governments and sporting organisations have nothing to say as Israel annexes territory, demolishes houses, builds settlements on occupied territory and practices virtual apartheid, all of it against international law. The media in the west are transparently biased in their reporting of the Russia/Ukraine and Israel/Palestine conflicts. Palestinian advocates are regularly asked on tv if they condemn Hamas atrocities and one responded, ‘do you ever ask Israeli spokesmen if they condemn Israeli atrocities?’ The presenter was lost for words. There is a huge propaganda war going on and the media has, for the most part, thrown its weight behind Israel. They have powerful friends who talk of self-defence and freedom whilst ignoring Israel’s many breaches of international law.  We live in cynical and cruel times.

 

Using football as a political platform is nothing new. From the England side giving the Nazi salute in a match in Hitler’s Germany in the 1930s, to those Celtic supporters who demonstrated their solidarity with the long-suffering people of Palestine, it has always gone on. From field guns being fired and soldiers abseiling down stands at Ibrox, to James MacLean refusing to wear a poppy, we have always seen political expression in stadiums. Those Celtic supporters who flew Palestinian flags would tell you they are demonstrating solidarity with an oppressed people in the face of horrendous assault on them. Each individual must decide where they stand on the great issues of the day. A friend said to me this week that silence in the face of genocide is complicity.

 

I could weep at the images I’ve seen coming out of Gaza this past few weeks. I could also weep for the innocent Israelis murdered on October seventh. Our leaders, who should be forcing a resolution to this century old tragedy, are hopelessly compromised and biased. They have been shown up for their utter hypocrisy and that is why, love it or loath it, many ordinary people express their own opinions on the streets and in the football stadiums. We wring our hands and argue about the appropriateness of political expression at sporting events. Meanwhile the innocents die and any hope of justice seemingly dies with them.

Are we to condemn future generations to replaying this tragedy? A good man said a long time ago, 'blessed are the peacemakers.' Where oh where are they today?

Ex nihilo nihil fit

 

Ex nihilo nihil fit

Greek philosopher and thinker Parmenides is best known for the succinct phrase ‘ex nihilo nihil fit.’ It translates roughly as; nothing comes from nothing. The revulsion felt by decent people at the slaughter of the innocents on both sides of the Palestine/Israel tragedy, is as heartfelt as it is deep. The appalling slaughter carried out in southern Israel and in Gaza is not an aberration which simply happened. It is the latest in a long series of violent incidents which show no sign of abating because the root causes of this evil have never been addressed.

Any scholar of history will know that the great injustice that is the continuing dispossession and humiliation of the Palestinian people, has incrementally robbed them of their land, their aspirations of statehood and their dignity.  This most intractable of situations has rumbled on for over a hundred years now and a solution looks as far away as ever.

After the collapse of the Ottoman empire at the end of World War One, Britain held a mandate over Palestine which allowed the UK to police the country and make decisions without so much as consulting the 90% of the population who were Palestinians. The famous/infamous Balfour declaration of 1917, named after the British Foreign Secretary, Arthur Balfour, was contained in a letter sent to Lord Rothschild, a leader of the Jewish community in England. The declaration stated with the usual imperial arrogance of the time…

‘His Majesty’s Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.’

Thus, the UK had declared that they would facilitate mass migration of Jewish settlers into Palestine without so much as consulting the people already living there. They had of course discussed it with Zionists who, after a series of persecutions and pogroms against Jews in Europe, were delighted. It should be noted that the British had said that they were favourable to a Jewish ‘homeland’ and not a Jewish state. With Arab nationalism rising between the wars, the influx of tens of thousands of Jewish people into Palestine added to a very volatile mix.

As the number of Jewish settlers grew in Palestine, conflict with the majority Palestinian population seemed inevitable. By the mid-1930s, the British were worried about the Palestinians becoming more strident in their opposition to what was going on in their country and cracked down hard at any sign of revolt. In time honoured fashion, they did as they had done in scores of colonial conflicts; they resorted to force. They, along with Zionist militias they trained and armed, burned Palestinian villages, murdered unarmed civilians, exiled thousands and used torture and mass imprisonment to enforce their will. These are verifiable historical truths, not some anti-British rant. The imperial war museum recorded the voices of British soldiers who spoke about these things and their testimony was used in the excellent BBC Radio series ‘The Mandates.’

World War 2 distracted everyone from what was going on but in the aftermath of that conflict, thousands of Jewish survivors of Hitler’s genocidal madness arrived in Palestine seeking a new start. Among Jews the setting up of a state was now a realistic and achievable aim. They turned their guns on the British with the intention of driving them out. The bombing of the King David Hotel in 1946 by the Zionist  paramilitary Irgun which killed 91 people at the HQ of British rule in Palestine was the biggest atrocity of the campaign. However, Irgun, led by future Israeli Prime Minister, Menachem Begin, kidnapped two British sergeants the following year and hanged them when the British executed three of their people. The bodies of the two soldiers were booby trapped and the resulting explosion injured more British soldiers when they were cut down. British public opinion was outraged and there were anti-Jewish riots in some UK cities. The British, sickened and not seeing what they had to gain by staying, announced they were leaving.

Once the British pulled out there was nothing to stop Ben Gurion declaring the foundation of the state of Israel, whilst standing under a large portrait of Theodore Hertzl, the father of political Zionism. As was predictable, the better armed and trained Zionist forces carried out brutal operations against Palestinians, which today we would call, ethnic cleansing. It was the time of the Nakba for the Palestinians and that catastrophe has continued to this day.

Successive wars have brought more and more Palestinians under the control of the Israeli military, culminating in the occupation of the Golan heights, Gaza, the Sinai-peninsula and the west bank in the six-day war of 1967. The cycle of violence has continued since then with few serious attempts to find a lasting and just peace. The current crises didn’t appear out of nowhere; it is just the next chapter in a long and blood-stained history.

The murderous attack on Israeli settlements by Hamas militants a week ago cannot be excused as anything other than an atrocity which was rightly condemned by the world’s media. Civilians should never be targeted in this manner in any conflict but much of that same media ignore or excuse the same murderous treatment of Palestinians. The hypocrisy of the west is staggering; Russia is condemned for trying to annex Ukraine and Zelensky armed to the teeth to defend his country. The occupation of Palestinian land and the building of settlements on it are in contravention of international law and yet our leaders say nothing. The targeting of civilians and the collective punishment of people in Gaza is also illegal and yet again there is silence. We are not children; we know the west sees Israel as a trusted ally in a troubled and volatile part of the world. We know they will support Israel in any regional conflict, but that support should not be a blank cheque to behave as they have done for decades towards the Palestinians.  

Some supporters of Celtic Football Club have already said they will bring Palestinian flags to the Champions League match with Atletico Madrid in late October. Few, if any of them are in support of the dreadful things perpetrated by Hamas in the Israeli settlements last week. They would say that they are showing solidarity with the Palestinian people who will now pay the price of that violence. UEFA will doubtless fine Celtic for any ‘political’ display at a UEFA match. This is the same UEFA who allowed commemorations at matches for the late Nelson Mandela, who said following his people’s victory over apartheid…

‘We know too well that our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.’

Mandela was a believer in a peaceful, two-state solution and undoubtedly a man who had seen enough of strife and war in his own land to know the bitterness it leaves behind. A statue of him stands in the west bank city of Ramallah where he is still revered as a friend of the Palestinians. Few thought that South Africa would ever find a way out of their own brutal conflict, but they did. Few could see a way forward for the north of Ireland at the height of the troubles, yet peace came. The Berlin wall fell and the cold war ended. History teaches us that change can come but that it needs courageous leaders prepared to unclench their fists and talk.

The heartbreaking tragedy unfolding before our eyes in Gaza seems just the next page of a long and bloody history. The innocent men, women and children of Israel and Palestine are paying the price of their leaders’ historic and current failures, as a hopelessly compromised and hypocritical world looks on. At the time of writing, it has been reported that 2,200 Palestinians have died in Gaza and a further 8000 have been injured. Most of them are innocent of any crime other than being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Half of Gaza’s population is under 18. I hope those young people live to see a lasting and just peace in their lifetimes. It seems far away at the moment but we have to hope.

This image and the image at the top of the page

are artworks from Palestinian painter, Heba Zeqout.

She was sadly killed in the bombardment of Gaza

this week. May she and all innocent victims rest in peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Familiarity breeds contempt

 

Familiarity breeds contempt

The coming week will see the resumption of the Champions League Group Stages and all Celtic supporters will be hoping for a positive result against Lazio. The Italian club have had an indifferent start in the league, winning two of their first six matches and currently lying eleventh in the table. They have a tough match on Sunday away to high flying AC Milan and hopefully that takes a bit out of their legs before the trip to Glasgow. They lost 2-1 home and away to Celtic in the Europa League in 2019 so will know to expect a tough match at Celtic Park.

The ties between the two clubs were competitive on and of the park. Lazio’s ultra groups have a reputation for extreme right-wing leanings, whilst those of Celtic are diametrically opposed to such a world view. Indeed, at Celtic Park in 2019, a banner depicting the death of Italian wartime leader, Benito Mussolini, was flaunted in the stadium along with the words ‘Go the way of your leader.’ It was a predictable occurrence, as were the attempts of Lazio ultras to attack Celtic fans in Rome at the return leg.

Lazio, as a club have tried hard in recent years to shed the reputation its ultra groups have gained for it as a fascist and antisemitic club. The main Lazio ultras group over the past thirty years, the ‘Irriducibili,’ disbanded or rebranded (take your choice) after arrests, banning orders and a storm of condemnation of some of their more demonstrably racist actions. The group released a rather pompous and self-aggrandising statement which read…

“As with all things in life, there is a beginning and, inevitably, an end. There is a time for everything, even for those fantastic, glorious stories; sooner or later, the curtain falls. The important thing is to have lived these stories, as protagonists or even lions. Experiencing it dangerously, without regrets, and without remorse. There have been exciting and difficult moments, happy and sad days. It all started on 18 October 1987, when, in a quiet match between Lazio and Padova, a banner with ‘Irriducibili’ appeared on the steps of the Stadio Olimpico. 10 meters of fabric, white writing, and a light blue background. Little would have thought that this name would soon become our symbol; our gauntlet to the whole world. But too much blood, too many banning orders, and too many arrests have occurred. So, after 33 years, we have decided to disband the group. From today, there will be a new dawn for the Curva Nord. For the first time, only one banner will be present in the stands, behind which all the Lazio supporters will be gathered: Ultras Lazio. We have the same desire as ever, the same enthusiasm and adrenaline.”

Fascism in Italian society has deep roots and much as Lazio are the most easily identifiable fan base with a problem with far-right racism, they are by no means alone. To their credit, the club, Italian FA and authorities are targeting the more strident racists on the terraces. Earlier this year a Lazio fan attended a game with a shirt bearing the name ‘Hitlerson’ and the number 88. (symbolising the eighth letter of alphabet: HH-Heil Hitler.’) The fan and two others who were performing the ‘Hitler salute’ were identified and banned for life. Europe seems to have been more plagued with this sort of idiocy in recent years as the refugee crisis intensified. We know about the more obvious displays of far-right iconography in Italy but it goes on in Russia, Serbia, Israel, Poland and in other places.

Are we in Scotland free from this scourge? We have seen a growth in the ‘ultra’ movement in Scotland over the past 15 or 20 years to the degree that even smaller clubs down the leagues can boast ultra groups. Ultras here though are for the most part about supporting their team and winding up the opposition fans. Few are involved in any overtly political activities. The exception being of course those who follow Celtic and Rangers.

Celtic’s domination of Scottish football in the early 20^th century saw some among the footballing public looking for a team to dethrone the ‘Irishmen.’ Rangers developed their identity in direct opposition to Celtic and grew big on the back of it. It could be said that had Rangers not existed, Celtic would be pretty much the same club they are. Had Celtic not existed, Rangers would have been a very different animal. The seemingly symbiotic relationship of the ‘old firm’ was never all it seemed. Celtic certainly needed rivals but it could just as easily have been Queen’s Park or Partick Thistle who developed into the ‘big’ club to challenge Celtic in those early years. The Rangers’ support grew partly on the back of migration from Ulster to the shipyards of the Clyde. Their more strident attitudes grew too in those years between the wars and  they morphed into an exclusivist champion of Protestantism and unionism.

A century later the same attitudes and opinions are still occasionally aired at Ibrox despite the world having moved on considerably. Much of it is empty rhetoric spouted by folk who never really took the time to read up on the history they bang on about. But can we say in all honesty that the Union Bears are a far-right ultras group in the manner of the now defunct Irriducibili? It’s an interesting question. Some feel they simply exist to oppose everything the Celtic ultras support and support everything they oppose. Thus, the Palestinian flags flown by some Celtic ultras are matched against the odd Israeli flag at Ibrox. The fondness among Celtic fans for left-wing German club, St Pauli, is matched by some Rangers fans infatuation with their city rivals HSV Hamburg. It seems as if so much that Rangers’ ultras do is in knee jerk reaction to Celtic.  

Some of the iconography on their tifo displays and indeed in graffiti around Glasgow apes some of the right-wing stuff we see from more seasoned racists abroad. The ‘Bill the Butcher’ tifo recently brought much opprobrium their way and went down like a lead balloon. Maybe familiarity breeds contempt, but you get inured to this sort of tosh and start to see it as a wind up rather than seriously racist. Maybe though we should take a step back and think about what is acceptable in 2023. Freedom of speech is well and good; hate speech is not.

At the end of the day, I want Celtic to succeed at home and in Europe. I don’t want Celtic’s success to be measured against anyone else. The nature of Scottish football means that should there be no entity playing out of Ibrox, as almost happened in 2012, then Celtic would be far too big for the league and would stroll it every year. We’d all get bored with that and look for ways to change it. In terms of footballing rivalry in Scotland’s unique context, it’s not enough to succeed; someone else has to fail. That has been the way of it here for 135 years. Unless the European dimension of football expands to encompass the big clubs in smaller leagues, it will doubtless remain that way.

As Lazio head for Glasgow, here's hoping the minority of fascists who follow them stay at home. Football is the people's game and means so much  to so many. It is far too important to allow it to be hijacked by racists. The good fans at every club need to ensure it isn't.

 

 

 

 

The last acceptable prejudice

 

The last acceptable prejudice

I wonder if there is a support in British football with less self-awareness than some of those who follow Rangers? Not content with singing songs which drag the tattered reputation of their club  through the gutter, they resort to a display in a UEFA Champions League qualifier which purports to depict a character from mid-nineteenth century America who was known for his hatred and violence towards Irish Catholics. Ironically enough, it actually depicts Daniel Day Lewis in the film Gangs of New York. An actor who loves Ireland so much that he has lived for years in County Wicklow, but such things don’t compute with the mindset which thought that such a banner was a good idea. Numbskulls need things to be black and white, as shades of grey and contradictions confuse them.

Below this banner the words ‘Surrender or you’ll die’ were stretched along the front of the Broomloan Stand. Few Scots football fans need reminding that this is a line from the ‘Billy Boys,’ a song about a sectarian razor gang from the inter-war years in Glasgow. That working class Scots sing in praise of a fascist and racist group from a century ago is passed off as ‘banter’ by some, but the truth is, it’s pernicious and corrodes common sense. We all know where these public displays of ritualised hatred can lead. Just pop your head into the A&E department of any Glasgow hospital on a day when Rangers play Celtic and you’ll see.

Bill ’the butcher’ Poole was a real man who lived and died in New York in the 19^th Century. His nativist (anti-immigrant) leanings led the 200lb pugilist into many violent confrontations. For years, his Bowery Boys gang had a deadly feud with the Irish and German Catholic immigrants in the five points district of New York. He was eventually shot dead by an Irish immigrant. Poole’s political leanings were towards the ‘Know Nothing’ Party, so called because members were encouraged to say, ‘I know nothing’ when questioned by others about the party’s darker side. Abraham Lincoln said of them in a letter…

“As a nation, we began by declaring that 'all men are created equal.' We now practically read it 'all men are created equal, except negroes.' When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read 'all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics.' When it comes to this, I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty – to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy.’

The Know-Nothings eventually merged into other political movements but that strain of anti-Catholic prejudice has deep roots in America and has only in recent decades begun to fade away.

On this side of the Atlantic, most European countries put religion into the private sphere where it could do little harm. In the UK, the monarch is head of the Church of England and the fact that no Catholic can ascend the throne is a grubby little left-over from England’s own anti-Catholic past and an insult to the 7 million Catholics living in the UK. Scotland’s own latent anti-Catholic fringe were reanimated by the arrival of Irish migrants in large numbers. Bear in mind that under the 1801 Act of Union, Ireland was a part of the UK. These migrants were not technically moving abroad but to another part of the same country.  Conditions on their own island had been made intolerable for them as the Irish colony, for that’s what it was, was run to enrich the landowning classes at the expense of the disenfranchised majority.

Competition for work and houses, rumours of wages being lowered because the Irish would work for less, all contributed to ill feeling. It seemed easier to blame the newcomers than to unite the workers and demand a fair deal for all. It was also convenient for the bosses to keep the workers divided as they were easier to control that way. The fact that Celtic Football Club was formed to help feed the children of this migrant community demonstrates the need must have been great indeed. Rangers initially were among the Celtic club’s warmest friends but things were soon to change.

The arrival of Harland and Wolff’s shipyard on the Clyde brought more strident types to Glasgow from Belfast. Celtic’s domination of Scottish football in the years before World War One was hard for some to swallow. With Rangers fast becoming the main competition for the ‘Irishmen’ Rangers took a more exclusive turn under the guidance of Chairman John Ure Primrose. He led the club until 1923 and saw them become a bastion of ‘Protestants only.’ As absurd as this sounds a century later, it was reflective of the society of the time.

It's equally absurd that the SFA, Scottish League and media said nothing as Rangers practiced this petty apartheid for a lifetime. It was boasted in those days that the three pillars of Scottish society were the church, the law and Glasgow Rangers. Such exceptionalism breeds arrogance and much as Rangers were Scotland’s most successful team until the mid-sixties, the arrival of Jock Stein at Celtic changed it in a manner they have never fully recovered from. For the self-proclaimed ‘people’ to play second fiddle as Celtic swept all before them in the Stein era, was hard to swallow. The sectarian policy Rangers operated then gave tacit approval to the bigots among their support and set the club back decades.  As they desperately strove to emulate Celtic’s European cup win, they accrued a mountain of debt which crushed them in the end.

The new century saw them collapse into liquidation and the formation of a ‘phoenix club’ was a golden opportunity to break with the poison of the past but as Charles Green pandered to the baser elements by saying ‘no surrender’ in a TV interview, we knew it was going to be business as usual. They climbed through the lower leagues like a men’s team in a school league and reached the SPFL in 2016 with the slogan ‘going for 55’ to the fore. Celtic duly won four successive trebles to further dent their superiority complex.

All through this period, graffiti, banners and a variety of unsavoury incidents reminded us that they still had a serious problem with bigotry among their support. It was telling that week in-week out we hear the tired old dirges of the ‘bygone days of yore’ as the SFA, Police and media did nothing. UEFA closing part of a stand for ‘discriminatory chanting’ reminded us that footballing authorities can act. So why don’t they?

It's almost as if anti-Catholic bigotry is the last acceptable prejudice. We saw Church of Scotland minister Stuart McQuarrie, at one time leader of the inter-faith chaplaincy at Glasgow University, stated that Catholics should stop ‘wallowing in their victim status.’ He also described ‘The Fields of Athenry’ as ‘vile, vicious and racist’, absolutely comparable to the unashamedly hate-filled sectarian ‘Famine Song’ Mr McQuarrie is not representative of anyone but himself, but that an educated man can verbalise such absurd views is telling.

The media in Scotland tend to follow the ‘unwritten rule’ when writing about this subject and portray both sides as bad as each other. They and many politicians demonstrate a moral cowardice in the face of bigotry and refuse to call it out in clear language. Their obfuscation and false equivalences cloud the issue and we get nowhere.

As for the ‘Know nothings’ and their stupid banner, they may snigger about a ‘Timplosion’ or ‘meltdown’ or other such juvenile nonsense, but the truth is, they damage their own club with these idiotic displays. I really wish they’d join the rest of us in the 21^st century.

What is to be done?

 

What is to be done?

Watching the two Edinburgh clubs advance in Europe this week should have pleased all who follow Scottish football. I must confess to a quiet, ‘yes!’ when Hearts hit a late winner, partly because it meant extra time was unlikely on a work night and partly because it added to Scotland’s co-efficient. The SPFL is currently ranked 9^th among Europe’s 55 leagues and it is this ranking which helped Celtic into the Champions League this season without the need for perilous qualifiers. Hibs did well too although they now face a daunting qualifier with Aston Villa. Whatever happens, they’ll make a few quid and hopefully put up a decent fight.

One thing I noticed about the Hearts match was the fact that the home sections of the stadium were sold out for the game. Indeed, it is said that Hearts have several thousand fans on the waiting list for season tickets although the lack of room for expanding Tynecastle means they may have a long wait. Hibs are averaging around 17,000 at home matches and Aberdeen had a big home support for the visit of Celtic last week and that was encouraging to see.

These three clubs could and should be making the big two work harder in the SPFL. We are now approaching 40 years since a side out-with the Glasgow duopoly won the title here (Aberdeen in 1985) and with each passing season it looks less and less likely that will emulate them. 

It is said that unfettered capitalism leads to power and wealth falling into the hands of fewer and fewer people. We are seeing this at every level of football. In the champions league, the same faces pop up in the last 8 every season and as technically brilliant as some of the teams are, it is getting boring. Now we see clubs from Saudi Arabia spending hundreds of millions of pounds to recruit talent from even the wealthier leagues of Europe. Rumours abound that they will be asking UEFA to admit their teams to competitions like the champions league and given the amount of money they have to spend, who is to say it won’t ever happen?

There is no little irony in English fans bleating about cheque book Saudi clubs when they have plundered the world’s footballing talent using their TV billions for decades. Currently around 64% of the players in the EPL are foreigners, lured there by the big paycheques. The current TV deal for the English Premiership is £1,632,000,000 (£1.632b)  per season. Scottish football will earn £30m for live matches shown in the 2023-24 season. The BBC pays the SPFL £2.8m to show highlights on Sportscene. The same BBC pays the EPL £68m per year to show highlights on match of the day. Indeed, Gary Lineker earns £1.35m for presenting the show. Thus, the vicious circle of the rich getting richer and the poor falling further behind goes on.

Fans out-with the big two in Scotland will say with some truth that the same thing is happening here, albeit on a smaller scale. They troop along to matches each season with no realistic hope of winning the title and only the prospect of a cup run to give them a glimmer of silver. Celtic has won 5 trebles in the past 7 seasons and much as I’ve enjoyed that success, I really do want to see our league return to the days when four or five clubs started the season with hopes of giving winning the title a real go.

It’s no fluke that our clubs did best in Europe when our league was more competitive. In the 25 years from 1960-1985 Scotland had 7 different champions (Hearts, Rangers, Dundee, Celtic, Dundee United, Aberdeen and Kilmarnock) and our clubs regularly did well in Europe. In the past 25 years we have had 2 champions, (though some argue 3 following Rangers’ demise & the new club arriving) with Celtic winning 18 of those titles. Despite a couple of creditable runs in the UEFA cup, Scottish clubs have failed to make any real impression in the Champions League for years now. Indeed, last season, Rangers were officially the worst UCL side of all time.

Of course, football has changed hugely since Scottish clubs were feared in Europe. Clubs no longer split gate receipts 50-50 as was the case back then. The Bosman ruling in 1995 meant that players could run down their contracts and leave a club. In days past clubs like Dundee United and Aberdeen could retain players for years and build a decent side. Those days are gone forever, as are the times when it was said there was a good footballer up every close in Glasgow.

So, what is to be done to make Scottish football more competitive? I have heard suggestions such as splitting TV money evenly among all the clubs in the top division. Some even suggest pooling all money paid by UEFA to Scottish clubs each season and sharing it evenly among all top flight clubs for the good of the game. Reducing the senior game to two leagues of around 16 clubs and depositing the rest in the pyramid system below this has been mooted. All of this is highly unlikely to happen as the member clubs would need to vote for it and Turkeys do not vote for Christmas. The single biggest thing which might bring true competition back to the Scottish Premiership is for Celtic and Rangers to leave.

The Champions League is evolving into a more recognisable league format in the years ahead and it remains possible that a European League may emerge with several divisions within it. That seems to be the most likely scenario in the next couple of decades. The rumblings about a breakaway league some years back, has spurred UEFA to act. At the end of the day, they want to keep control on this money-making machine.

In leagues all over Europe the wealth is accruing in the hands of a few big clubs and competition is suffering. The ‘Scottish disease’ of the big boys monopolising the trophies is spreading. We see Bayern Munich on ten in a row in Germany, Juventus did nine in a row in Italy, Manchester City have won five of the last 6 EPL titles and the Barca/Madrid duopoly in Spain have won 19 of the past 23 titles. Although football can be an unpredictable and passionate game, the reality is that the gap between the haves and have nots has never been wider. Unless there is some form of redistribution of wealth, this gap will only grow.

Just as Scottish football’s smaller sides look to the league cup draw this coming week and hope to avoid the big two, so too our two biggest clubs will (should Rangers make it) await the Champions league draw with some trepidation. At both national and international level, football’s food chain is marked and obvious. The big fish come from the leagues with the huge TV deals. Money is the deciding factor in the modern game.

I love Scottish football. It has a rawness that many money bloated leagues have lost. I wish I had the answer to making it more competitive, but the honest truth is I don’t. It’s now 39 years since Alex Ferguson led Aberdeen to the title. It could be another 39 till they do it again if nothing changes.

I’m open to suggestions.

 

 

Larsson and Bloody Mary

 

Larsson and Bloody Mary

Joe closed the laptop and looked his brother Eddie, ‘that’s it done. Two tickets for the match at fifty euros a pop aff the UEFA site and two return flights to Spain at sixty bar.’ Eddie Doyle looked him, ‘beating Stuttgart at home disnae mean we’re making the final. We’re not even in the quarters and you’re gambling on Celtic going all the way? We’ve no’ been in a European final for 33 years.’ Joe smiled at his brother, ‘Oh ye of little faith! I feel it in my blood, Eddie, we’re going all the way this year.’ Eddie shrugged, ‘I’ll go halfs wi ye. I guess we can flog the tickets if we get papped oot.’ Joe nodded, ‘we’ll call it a ton, bro. Best hundred quid you’ve ever spent.’

Joe and Eddie joined 10,000 other Celtic fans in the Gottlieb Daimler Stadium on a chilly February night and watched Celtic race into a 2-0 lead in 15 minutes. Alan Thompson and Chris Sutton were on target as Didier Agathe terrorised the German defence with his pace. With the tie at 5-1 on aggregate, Celtic were not going to blow it now. The away fans were ecstatic and bounced and sang till they were hoarse. The Hoops gave their fans some anxious moments but saw it over the line. Celtic were in the last 8!

The Hoffbrau Bierkeller was full of Celtic fans celebrating their victory in the tie and the Erdinger was flowing like water. Eddie and Joe were in the company of some German Celts from Hamburg. ‘Did you know that stadium we played in tonight,’ one of them began in excellent English, ‘was once called the Adolf Hitler Kampfbahn?’ Joe looked at him incredulously, ‘really? And what does ‘kampfbahn’ mean?’ The big German replied with a serious face, ‘it means battlefield.’ He then smiled as the band started playing an Irish song, ‘anyway, fuck Hitler and fuck the nazis!’ Eddie raised his beer, ‘I’ll drink to that pal.’ They sang and drank till 1am, when their taxi arrived to take them to the airport for the dawn flight back to Scotland.

Joe Doyle watched the UEFA delegate draw the teams for the quarter finals of the UEFA Cup. ‘Give us the Turks or Panathinaikos!’ he muttered as the draw began. The first ball came out of the large fishbowl they used on such occasions… ‘Celtic!’ ‘Come on said Joe, Turkey or Greece!’ The next kinder egg was drawn from the bowl…. ‘will play… Liverpool.’  His face didn’t know where to laugh or cry. This was a tough assignment but then Martin O’Neill’s side had already dumped some tough teams out of Europe. His phone lit up as Eddie called, ‘did ye see the draw, Fannybaws? We’ll get two good nights out anyway but the odds ain’t good.’  Joe remained an optimist though, ‘they’re not the team they used to be. We can roll them if we get a lead in the first leg.’  Eddie looked at him, ‘heart ruling the head, Joe, but we’ll see.’

Celtic Park hummed with anticipation on a dark March night as 60,000 fans crammed in to watch the ‘battle of Britain.’ Gerry Marsden led the crowd in a booming rendition of you’ll never walk alone and then it was show-time. John Hartson and Henrik Larsson terrorised the Liverpool defence in the opening period. First Larsson kneed home a goal in under two minutes, then Hartson hit the bar with a dipping shot, before fizzing a thunderbolt just over. Liverpool were rocking as the huge Celtic support were worked into a frenzy. Then, just as the game settled, the Celtic defence slept as Heskey raced through to arrow a low shot past Douglas. The game ebbed and flowed from then on in but there were no more goals. Celtic trooped off to applause from their fans who knew the team had given their all.

As Joe and Eddie trooped along the Gallowgate they were realistic about their chances at Anfield. ‘We played well tonight, showed we can get behind them, but we’ll need to be good to win down there,’ Joe said. Eddie for once was the more optimistic of the two, ‘we could have been two or three up in the first ten minutes. We can beat them if the defence disnae dae anything daft.’ They both knew Celtic were the underdogs now but this Celtic team had cojones, they’d give it 100% at Anfield.

A week later the brothers squeezed into the Tollbooth Bar to watch the match from Merseyside. The mood was confident among the fans, especially after the first few minutes when it was clear Celtic were up for the fight. They gave as good as they got as Liverpool seemed content to sit on 0-0 having the away goal from Glasgow. Just before half time, Celtic won a free kick 25 yards from goal. ‘Leave it Thompson, let Larsson hit it,’ Eddie shouted at the TV screen. Three seconds later he was locked in a wild embrace with a total stranger as Alan Thompson smashed the ball home. The pub exploded with joy! Celtic were in the lead.

‘Just hang in there, Celtic!’ Joe shouted as the second half began, but Celtic continued to press and harry Liverpool. As the game entered the final ten minutes, the tension was unbearable. One slip would mean extra-time. Then in happened. Joe watched it unfold as if in slow motion, John Hartson picked up a pass outside the penalty box and sidestepped a feeble looking tackle. As the brothers watched, he unleashed a thunderbolt of a shot which flashed past Dudek in the Liverpool goal and almost burst the net. ‘Yaaassssssssss!’ Joe roared, ‘ya big, beautiful, sexy, Welsh bastard ye!’ The brothers hugged and fell to the floor of the pub as fans jumped and danced all around them. It was mayhem, it was epic, it was chaotic, it was victory!

Joe glanced at the TV, ‘I’d rather avoid Lazio and Porto. I think Boavista are the best bet?’ His brother nodded, ‘we’re so close to this final, Joe. I’m starting to believe you were right, this year is a special one.’ As the draw came through, Joe smiled. Lazio v Porto and Celtic v Boavista. ‘Bring it on,’ he smiled.

Boavista Oporto were without a doubt the most cynical, time-wasting, play acting bunch of charlatans either brother had seen at Celtic Park in their time watching Celtic. They fell over at every opportunity, took an eternity with kick outs and throw ins and to cap it all took the lead from a freaky own goal. The tension seemed to be getting to Celtic as their support got increasingly tetchy. Larsson gave Celtic a massive boost by equalising but 15 minutes from time he missed a penalty. It was a hugely frustrating night for Celtic who had squandered chances and now faced a trip to Portugal with their hopes hanging by a thread.

The two brothers were mentally and physically drained by the match but that was nothing compared to what was to come in Porto a fortnight later. Celtic were stifled by the Portuguese side who seemed happy to sit on their away goal and slow the game down at every opportunity. It was a turgid and frustrating game to watch. As Joe and Eddie sat on the living room floor, their family crowded on the couches behind them, it looked as if the team had finally run out of steam. ‘Come on Celtic! Wan goal, wan fecking goal!’ Eddie roared in frustration. His granny Maggie approached the tv from behind him with something in her hand. ‘Ott the road, I cannae see the game. What ye doin’ granny?’ Joe asked, ‘I got this in Portugal ten years back, Noo’s the time tae use it.’ As they watched, she unscrewed the lid of a plastic statue of the Virgin Mary she had got on a trip to Fatima and splashed holy water on the tv. Eddie looked at Joe , who shrugged. ‘It cannae hurt?’ Joe shook his head, ‘it can if she fuses the feckin telly!’

As the grey-haired matriarch sat down again, all eyes focussed on the TV in time to see a Boavista defender tackle John Hartson. The ball spun towards Henrik Larsson who scuffed his shot somewhat but the ball spun over the despairing gloves of goalkeeper Ricardo and into the net. The modest house in Glasgow, like so many around the country and indeed the world, exploded with joy!  Eddie embraced his wee granny, ‘ye did Maggie, you and bloody Mary!’ His granny had tears in her eyes, ‘I telt ye tae trust me. Noo, no more of yer blaspheming or ye’ll get a bat on the jaw!’

The game dragged agonisingly on for a further fifteen minutes before the referee whistled for the end. Celtic had done it! They had made it to their first European final in 33 years. The Doyle’s drank and sang long into the night and Joe passed the tickets around the family as if they were precious works of art. ‘We’re going to Seville!’ he smiled at his brother. Eddie nodded, ‘I never believed it would happen but fair play to you, bro. Those tickets will be worth a fortune now.’ Joe sipped his beer, ‘aye, but they’re not for sale. Not at any price.

No one could guess what the final would bring, they were happy just to enjoy the night. Their magical football club and its amazing support were off for another adventure.