feeling that we might have, at long last, turned the
corner. Don't let the scoreline kid you. Rangers
were worthy of more than a 2-1 victory, although I
could have done without going through that
nerve-jangling end to the game.
My old bones were rattling when Lovell pulled a goal
back in the 84th minute. I thought, why do Rangers
have to put us through this agony? But holding out
for the remaining six minutes, plus what appeared to
be a further six of injury time, made it all
worthwhile and, the more I think of it, maybe I
wouldn't have it any other way. Dolly & Co really
worked up a sweat, actually believing they were going
to save the game. Ha-ha-feckin-ha!
Aberdeen fans really are the most despicable crowd I
have had the misfortune to sit amongst. Their hatred
of us knows no bounds and I'm not talking about
plooky-faced wee boys here. Mature adults, who really
should know better, were foaming at the mouth from the
moment the Rangers players appeared for their warm-up
and it was interesting to hear these patriots sing
Flower Of Scotland one moment, then bad-mouth
Scotland's skipper seconds later.
Having enjoyed something of a revival under the Two
Jimmies, they really fancied their chances of turning
us over. Get real, girls. From the opening few
minutes when Rangers forced a couple of corners, it
was clear our guys were up for it and, although we
were a wee bit lucky to see Mackie's shot rebound from
the post, it was the sort of break which has gone the
other way so often this season.
They called us all the jammy so-and-sos, with heavy
usage of the H word, and they were having fits when
Nacho fired us into the lead. ‘Ha-ha, ya feckin wee
ba….' they laughed as he sklaffed his shot from
Sionko's cross. Then it was ‘Aw naw' as it looped
into the air, over the keeper and into the net. Nice
one Nacho!
Sitting in the main stand, I was able to control
myself with a quiet ‘Yessss' but about 20 yards away,
towards the corner flag, a group of Bears couldn't
contain themselves and, true to form, the locals went
apeshit. I didn't get to see all that went on but
clearly polis and stewards moved in to throw our guys
out, they weren't too keen to go and, amidst the
debate, Libor Sionko rammed it right up our lovely
hosts by firing in goal number two. Get in there!
At that point I reckoned the Gers were in easy street
and I fancied us to go on and rattle in a few more.
It didn't happen and I wasn't too pleased to see us
getting pinned back in the second half. But we always
looked capable of taking whatever was thrown at us and
had a few chances to kill the game on the
counterattack.
So when Lovell made it 2-1, the natives suddenly got
all excited and, detecting that I didn't share their
enthusiasm, a few iffy glances came my way. When the
fourth official indicated four minutes of stoppage
time, they reminded me of a load of weans at a
Christmas party when they've just been told Santa
Claus is outside the door. C'mon children, lets have
a big cheer for...the fourth official. Hurray!
But it was just as if Santa had passed them by. Their
team couldn't get a kick of the ball in those closing
stages, there was no grandstand finish and, even when
it looked like the ref's watch had stopped, the Gers
were comfortably in control. When he finally blew his
whistle, those wonderful Pittodrie fans turned their
venom on the celebrating Bears in the faraway corner,
then broke into that famous Christmas carol which just
about sums them up.
'Nice one Simmy' they sang. Or was it 'Nice one
Jimmy'? Lets go the whole hog and say they sang of
peace on earth, goodwill to all men. Aye right!
GIRUY!!!
LITTLE BOY BLUE