So you'll forgive me if I break the habit of a lifetime and kick off this piece with the warmest of GIRUY greetings to our 'friends' in Gorgie. Anybody who thinks there can be anything resembling affection between our clubs should have sat next to me in the Main Stand on Sunday. This lot hate us with a passion and, as they poured out their bile on Dado, Nacho and, most of all, Scotland's skipper, it was hard to keep a lid on my anger. Never mind, guess who had the last laugh? More about that later.
A dressing room revolt, unrest among the punters and even a few wee whispers of discontent from within Mad Vlad's inner circle had succeeded in pushing the Watery Farts off the straight and narrow path, all of which should have been to our advantage. So why wasn't I brimming over with confidence as I made my way to Tynecastle?
Well, as I'm sure you'll have noticed, we've not been setting the heather on fire of late and, while last week's defeat of Dunfermline was a welcome relief, it was hardly top notch stuff. We could not expect to get away with a similarly sloppy show on Sunday and, thankfully, the players raised their game.
We had to treat this match like a European tie and, with a Champions League slot up for grabs, our guys responded. Brahim Hamdani was immense at the back, Baz and Jeremy called the shots in midfield and wee Nacho worked his butt off yet again. It was the sort of performance which got us a result in Livorno and I'd like to think this weekend's game was something of a dummy run for Thursday night's UEFA Cup business in Auxerre.
Every week we worry about what Rangers team will turn up but there were no complaints at Tynecastle. Here's hoping the days of us blowing hot and cold are a thing of the past. Even if everything doesn't click together in a football sense, we should at least be able to rely on 100% passion and commitment to see us through. These qualities were there in abundance on Sunday.
Having heard the locals gave Nacho pelters for his fresh air kick at a hammer-thrower who tried to bundle him into the crowd, how sweet it was to see the wee fella let rip with the winner. To be perfectly honest, I would've subbed him earlier because I reckoned he had become a target for the Hearts players and I worried about him picking up a second yellow. Hey, what do I know? I suppose that is why I'm not the manager of the Rangers.
By then, the home crowd had lost the plot. They could see their season disintegrating in front of their eyes and, while few would have a good word to say for any Lithuanian, it was all them big bad Rangers' fault. Every decision which went against them had them shouting about cheats. It mattered not a jot that their team had lost its shape and were being beaten by a far superior side. If in doubt, blame it on the Rangers and, just to vary things a wee bit, give the ref dog's abuse as well. It was almost like a day out at the Scum Dome.
One thing the Jambos must learn is that booing your own players is no way to protest about the management of the club. For all our problems, we have given our team our support, even when they have let us down badly and, with the exception of a brief moment when some numpties turned against Lionel Letizi, no player can complain about the backing he has got from us Bears. And judging from their reaction after Nacho's goal and again at the final whistle, they appreciate it.
It was great to be there after the whistle, with the Jambos put in their place and shuffing out to the car park to protest (sound familiar?), as Rangers fans and Rangers players applauded each other. That is what being a Ranger is all about and, whilst I could hardly indulge in a bouncy-bouncy routine without risking life and limb, the smile on my face had to be a dead giveaway. Yessssssss!
Half-an-hour or so later I was in the nearby Westfield Tavern and a few of us had a bit of fun with some sore losers. Not having my fitba-anorak head on, I couldn't resist asking who Hearts were playing in Europe this week. Guess what? They've got a free week. Then another balloon, latching on to the point that we weren't wearing colours, said he always knew we were Bears because we didn't have a single maroon item on our persons. Really? After a wee conflab, two of us dipped into our pockets and brought out the maroon item they will have no need for.
If you think Scottish refs make too much a drama out of flashing their cards, you should have seen us waving Her Majesty's good old Passport in some sad Jambo faces. GIRUY! Auxerre here we come!
LITTLE BOY BLUE