much so that certain locals, clearly having been
amongst the six million who traveled to Suhvuhle a
year or two back, were giving Jose Mourinho the
verbals.
“Get that crap aff,” they growled.
So the TV was switched to Setanta for the Edinburgh
derby and, while I was not too pleased with the change
of channel, it turned out to be a real good game. And
a couple of things quickly caught my attention.
Firstly, as a box-to-box midfield player, Scott Brown
is as good as any in the game and, if it is possible
to bring him to Ibrox, it should be done.
Secondly, Craig Gordon is nothing but a pathetic
drama-queen. After making it 2-2, Dean Shiels ran to
get the ball out of the net and to celebrate with the
Hibs fans, Gordon blatantly body-checked him, then
collapsed in a heap as if the victim of some phantom
sniper. He got Shiels sent off and the balance of the
game tipped back towards Hearts.
If the Polish Bigot is indeed due to head for England,
on his performance on Boxing Day, Craig Gordon is
tailor-made for a move to Breezeblock Boulevard.
Once the Tynecastle game was over, the box was
switched back to Sky where those representatives of
the GFITW were well pleased to find out Reading fought
back to get a 2-2 draw. And with ManUre well on their
way to sorting out Wigan to open up a four point gap
at the top of the Premiership, they started gibbering
about how, if United win the league, it would be a
clear sign that FC Semtex would skoosh it down south.
At this point I came close to spilling my drink, only
to have trouble keeping my lager down when news of
Dundee United's second goal at the Piggery flashed
across the screen. Checking my watch, I muttered
something about it being too early and, making the
great mistake of assuming I was one of them, they
started slobbering about how Ra Sellick always keep
going right to the end.
I decided to have some fun at their expense. The
suggestion that their lot might pull a goal back about
half-past-six, then nick the equalizer around
quarter-to-seven, seemed to confuse them. I then
suggested that if McManus was to be substituted, and
the fourth official held up the number 44 board, Wee
Strap-On would assume this was an indication of how
much injury time there might be.
One of them was a wee bit less dense than the rest and
it occurred to him that I might be taking the piss.
Moi? They duly got the two goals back to steal a
point and did a wee bit of gloating. They were big
with We, Us, Oor Team and, finally growing sick of it
all, I asked the most searching of questions.
“Do any of you lot actually go to games?”
The answer had me spitting lager all over the place.
“We're just supporters, no' fanatics like your crowd.”
Who said they don't have a sense of humour?
..........
The Safest Bet
After Gordon The Garden Gnome's wee rant about Ra
Sellick not getting a penalty in 19 SPL games, you
just knew there was no way their run of ‘misfortune'
would stretch to 20.
Happily heading back from Aberdeen with an excellent
three points tucked away, listening to events unfold
at the Scum Dome, I couldn't believe that the full 90
minutes had expired without Ian Brines pointing to the
spot, then right at the death Lennie, that more
much-maligned wee lamb, threw himself into the box and
the weasel with a whistle bought it.
Of course, not happy with cheating, the man our friend
Leggo would have as Player Of The Year, decides to
stick the nut on somebody who took exception to his
theatrics. Didn't Drunken Duncan end up in the Bar L
for something similar?
But I digress. The best bet of them all was that
Septic would get a pen against Falkirk. Otherwise why
did Strachan highlight the issue?
Mind you, a pal of mine who happens to be a Bairns
fan, anticipating the inevitable, tells me he wasn't
too worried.
‘They got seven penalties against us in the League
Cup… and missed four of them!”
And it was Nice One Kenny as a certain former Rangers
did it again last week. What a pity the ref didn't
spot Gravesen's blatant hand ball moments before he
grabbed the winner.
ERWIN G.