The warning bells have been ringing for quite some time. Just as our
celebrations were a bit too lavish after our victory at Breezeblock
Boulevard, the doom and gloom which followed the slip-up against Caley
Thistle and the desperate defeat from Dundee United has also been more
than a tad OTT. We go into the post-split run-on two points off the
pace with the final Old Firm fixture to come at our place (a situation
we didn’t dare hope for when we fell seven points behind after just
five games!) yet, while I genuinely fancy Rangers to pick up all three
points at the weekend, I can’t shake off a feeling of uneasiness
surrounding this crucial month ahead.
Sunday’s showdown doesn’t worry me. Sellick are over the hill, there
for the beating if we take the game to them, and I fancy the Gers to do
just that, with Dado running their back-line ragged and Nacho
rediscovering the goal touch at the perfect moment. But the game at
Sheepieville a week later, followed by visits from angry Motherwell and
Hearts teams, then rounding everything off with a visit to Easter Road,
all combine to scare me shitless.
Lets forget for a brief moment that our team has been far from
convincing of late. Even if we were firing on all cylinders, we know
Aberdeen will burst a gut to shatter our title ambitions, while recent
games against Hearts and Motherwell will make sure that both arrive at
Ibrox with a giant chip on the shoulder. And coming through that little
lot unscathed, would still leave us needing to beat the Trainspotters
at their ain midden to lift the Championship. Expect four very
spiteful, controversial encounters, look out for the hammer-throwers
seeking to maim our top men and don’t be surprised if injury and
suspension force Big Eck to put together a patchwork side as the
winning post draws near.
So we know we will get a rough ride but do we really have to make it
harder for ourselves? Well, on the evidence of recent performances,
this Rangers team is intent on shooting itself in the foot at every
opportunity. Having effectively handicapped ourselves with a horrendous
start to the campaign, a dramatic improvement and the finding out of
the Scum Of saw Rangers move to the top early in December, only to
meekly surrender the lead just a week later.
On three more occasions the Mhanky Mhob slipped up and we leapfrogged
them but, no sooner had we settled into pole position, than we
contrived to throw it all away. FC Semtex seem to be able to go about
their business under no pressure whatsoever because they are confident
that, no matter how erratic they are, Rangers are incapable of holding
on to the top spot. As much as it breaks my heart to say it, you can
see where they are coming from.
Can any side which drops SEVEN points to a Dundee United team in danger
of being relegated really be considered as genuine title contenders?
Add a further four points thrown away to a Caley Thistle outfit who
have admitted their only target was to finish second bottom of the
table and you quickly realise that, had we been anything like the real
deal, we would have been disappearing over the horizon before the
split. All of which make my current nervous disposition so much more
frustrating.
If only we’d been a bit tighter at the back when the Arabs and Caley
Thistle grabbed injury time equalisers at our place, if only Dado and
Nacho hadn’t been playing blindfolded when United came back to The Brox
last week. Jesus Christ, I’m starting to sound like a chip on the
shoulder Charlie Sim. Behave yourself man!!!
The bottom line is that no team has done us any more damage than we
have done to ourselves. When we’ve been called upon to lift our game
and put the Great Unwashed in their place, we’ve risen to the occasion
and sorted them out. But just when we think we’ve cracked it, we start
to fire blanks and struggle against teams who really should not be on
the same pitch as the famous Glasgow Rangers.
For this reason I’m up for it on Sunday and fully expect to be
indulging in some loud and lavish celebrations over the weekend and
into the early part of next week…but at some point sobriety will bring
the festivities to a close, harsh reality will dawn and I’ll start
crapping myself again.
C’mon Eck, gimme a break. Tell the players to take a good look around
them when they trot out on Sunday, multiply my irritable bowel syndrome
by more than 40,000 similarly minded nervous wrecks inside the ground
(and millions more elsewhere) and maybe you’ll appreciate the good deed
you will do for mankind if you and the guys can hold things together
for the next five weeks.
How good it would be if you could make it happen…but I won’t be able to
relax until the last second of the final match. FFS somebody pass the
valium.
LITTLE BOY BLUE