WHAT WE WANT TOMORROW
This Saturday, two teams with delusions of grandeur and not a pot to piddle in between them will meet to determine who is the first team in a third-rate league. Logic dictates it should garner very little attention, but I bet I¹m not the only one who is having trouble sleeping already.
Our aim from this game must be clear. We must win, and win by playing the type of football that we have played all season. Physically, we have few players capable of matching Celtic¹s lumbering Neanderthal brute strength, but nor can they match the ball players in our team; can any Celt pass like Ferguson, or run like Lovenkrands, or command a defence like Amoruso? The answer is no. What they can do, however, is cheat.
My wish on Saturday night is that if we lose, I¹m blaming the players and not the referee. I honestly have no problem (well, not many!) in accepting defeat if we deserve it, but I really can¹t handle the hollow anger which mounts after we get screwed by weak little men, proud of their office and power but fearful of the retribution of the ignorant unwashed masses. If Rangers lose due to the pathetic attempt at neutrality of Kenny Clark rather than because of the merits of either team, it will be too much to take.
You know what I mean - the Sutton back-in/dive; the Larsson patented ‘bum out-legs up’ dive; the Petrov Dying Swan. I would also like to think that if Neil Lennon or Paul Lambert complete 90 minutes, then it is because they have behaved rather than the ref has bottled sending them off for their latest assault on a Rangers player.
I want us to win with style, to hammer this Rugby League club back to the papier-mâché hole they crawled out from. I want our fans to bring flags, wave confetti and sing louder than the militant ones. And I want every one of us to be able to hold our heads up on Saturday night and say ‘we did our best’.
And I want us to be allowed to do so.