It’s all our fault. This.
We voted for this.
Letters to the SFA wanting marginal decisions explained. You’ve seen them given, you’ve seen them not. Them’s the breaks.
No need for civil disobedience. Threats. It’s entertainment.
Will you send threatening messages to the director of the new Indiana Jones film when it is rubbish? Did you post Eddie Murphy’s personal details on a fans forum after watching Coming to America 2?
That was a major crime. Kevin Clancy’s is small fry in comparison. I could moan about the rentaghost freekicks he kept on giving.
Marginal decision. Seen them given, seen them not. See the league cup final. Freddo’s two handed push on FFS Aaron Mooy as I christened him on Saturday
But we voted for this.
Not us, the fans. But the PLC. The five way agreement. The continuity myth. The old firm. The fifty quid tickets. We fully invested in the resurrection of a rival. Told that they were too big not to come back. Good for business. Jokers to the left of me, tokers to the right and here we are stuck in the middle with you.
We created a monster.
And like most monsters they are based on myth.
Like the Jota handball. Myth. James Tavernier’s two goals in the defeat are the same as Kylian Mbappe scoring a hat-trick and losing a World Cup final. Myth.
Mick Beale. Myth. Well that is still to be fully decided he may fluke a few results yet. But he does seem the type of man who has a hairy back. He is also the type of man who if he said he likes David Bowie you would immediately set fire to any David Bowie records in your collection.
I watched the game on a wee break in the canary islands. I had to bribe El Captain who ran the pool bar to show the game. The bribe was that I paid his bar prices when there were cheaper options outside.
My worry was that with Man U v Everton on at the same time then I might have to go to one of those faux Irish pubs to find a place interested in showing the game.
You get a sense of a games importance of games in these resorts. The pubs advertise the games that will bring in the punters. EPL games bring in the punters.
Nottingham Forest v Leeds is a bigger attraction. Newcastle now a top draw. If you want to watch Celtic it’s slim pickings. A Celtic game stokes the interest of the neutral as much as watching Fulham does in me.
Stuck in the middle with you. Tangled up in blue. Screaming into a void.
A Newcastle fan stopped to watch the game with me in the second half. I did say to him that a game of football could break out at any time but it’s a derby! Don’t know why I felt inferior. I’ve watched the black slick rich rubbish Newcastle serve up.
It’s just that I felt the need to defend the game cause no-one who matters will defend it. Sky are sub-standard. We are just a cheap option. Slightly better than dead air. The game is run by sausage-fingered idiots. A three ringed circus. The Scottish game has gangrene. Losing a big toe near you soon. I understand why no-one is interested. Two-horse race. Boring. Empty stadiums. Laughing stock in Europe. Talksport propaganda. Guilty your honor.
I defended it because Celtic are there. I defended it because I enjoyed winning the game. I was invested in the game. Invested in the competition. Invested in the result. It meant something. It meant more.
We created a monster.
Stuck in the middle with you. Tangled up in blue. Screaming into a void.
Absence made the heart grow fonder but now over familiarity is leading to arguments about who is going to get the dog. Ange was right. We’ve pimped out our only showable game to the detriment of the game. Packaged as only about two teams with no other competition.
I can rightly be proud of the Celtic players and management achievements and know that it’s not easy to do what they are doing, I can never win an argument that the league is competitive.
Goblins like Robbie Nelson, Derek McInnes, Jim Goodwin and David Martindale are defeatists. They don’t want to improve. They just want an excuse. You can add Beale into that with his ‘lucky man’ quote.
The pastry heads that run the game are blind. Happy to have a house big enough for petrol ride-on-mower. Taking the Glen’s Vodka pound.
Angelos Postecoglou has dragged the club into the modern era. Progressive is no longer just a woke term for our PLC. How progressive can you be when in the rich-man footballs world no-one is bothered about you?
That is the question that will be on the lips and hips in the boardroom and the European Club Association junkets coming to a golf course – owned by Dermot Desmond (probably) near you soon. There is only so often you can play Manchester City in Japan before the novelty wears off. Only so often you can stink in the Champions League before folk switch off.
The wider world has already switched off from the Glasgow Derby.
Malcolm McLaren is quoted as saying: “Nostalgia is just dead skin.”
The way I’m beginning to look at Celtic’s place and worth and commitment to Scottish Football is like that quote. It’s now just dead skin.
Jokers to the left of me, tokers to the right and here we are stuck in the middle with you.
JUST SHOOT ALEXANDRO BERNABEI!
Up the Champions.
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