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Weir’s Week: long pots, pyjamas and eight places lower than Libya

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By Stewart Weir
Saturday A busy day, with two sporting institutions taking centre stage, namely the Grand National from Aintree and the Melrose Sevens – the latter won by the host club, admirably led by Scott "Scarface" Wight. But it was the previous evening's viewing which started my week. STV’s The Football Years has been an excellent series, picking out the highlights – and lowlights – from the past few decades. Last week focused on the exploits of Rangers during their treble-winning season and unbeaten European run of 1992/93. The vintage footage has brought back many memories, of how good some footballers and teams were, and how bad the fashion sense of others. You would be hard pushed to find any criticism of this series, although some of the journalists who have appeared as talking heads were at best adjacent to the action rather than close.

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That aside, as any editor will tell you, the difficulty with things like this is what you leave out. Friday’s programme recalled the best Rangers side I’ve seen, which – apart from a sprinkling of "foreigners" such as Hateley, Huistra, Steven, "Disco" Dale and "Miko" or "Chenks" (but seldom Mikhailitchenko with a "t") – was a Scotland XI better than the Scotland team of the day. But from the story of that season, there was a minor detail overlooked that I picked up on – namely that Rangers clinched the treble minus future Gers boss Ally McCoist, who had broken his leg in Lisbon having scored a mere 49 goals up to that point. While much was made about Rangers proving themselves in Europe, the importance of being the best domestically was never, ever, overlooked by the members of that team. Having won the second dog-fight and with it the "Battle of Britain" against Leeds United, captain Richard Gough held court within Elland Road. My erstwhile colleague from the Daily Mirror, Harry Harris, who knew Goughie from his Spurs days, tried to press the point that the Leeds encounter was surely the biggest club match the Rangers captain had ever played in. “Aye, but we’ve got a bigger one on Saturday,” replied Gough. “But you’ve just beaten the champions of England,” said Harris. “How can Saturday be a bigger game than that?” “Because,” said Gough, “we play Celtic on Saturday. And if they beat us, they’ll be telling everyone they’re British champions.” Of course few, if any, of the assembled English press penned that line. Either they didn’t see the significance, or did they just see being best in Glasgow as small-mindedness? Sunday Something that was noticeable on Friday night’s offering was just how passionate Walter Smith was as the relatively-new Rangers boss, struggling at times to contain himself, particularly when his side scored a crucial goal. Compare that to Sunday’s goal by Niki Jelavic against Hamilton Accies, when the soon-to-be-retired Smith failed to connect with an attempted high-five with assistant coach Kenny McDowall. The co-ordination and teamwork just wasn’t there. Maybe Wattie is standing down before the celebrations become as embarrassing as Sir Alex Ferguson’s daddy-dancing… Monday In cricketing terminology, OD stands for One Day, as in the limited-over form of the game. However, you can’t help thinking it might also stand for overdose, something even the most avid follower of the game must be experiencing by now. Those who think that the Chennai Super Kings or Rajasthan Royals are £6.80 for a pack of 20, or that Deccan Chargers only work for alkaline batteries, or that Kolkata Knight Riders are condoms, won’t know what the IPL is. But a week after a world cup that took a month and more to complete, we are straight into the Indian Premier League, the live and hitting version of fantasy Twenty20, where the best players in the world become little more than hired assassins. ITV4 – fast becoming the nation’s leading digital (or is it terrestrial?) sports channel – are showing the action live, which is colourful and fast and should be watchable and entertaining. But much as I love the game, even I’m feeling a bit jaded by it all. Overkill is taking away from the spectacle. It’s almost like the sequel to a movie which you saw just a year ago, only with more colourful pyjamas. Still, it beats re-runs of The Fall Guy – but not of The Sweeney. If the IPL isn’t enough, Australia beat Bangladesh, taking the series after a nine-wicket win with Shane Watson clattering 185 (out of a total of 232) from just 96 balls, including 15 fours and a world-record 15 sixes. Amazing, but so what? … Tuesday Snooker has tried to get its act together on many fronts of late, one being how authorities handle illness. Ding Junhui was fined £2,000 by the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association after failing to report that he was suffering from illness before losing 4–0 to countryman Liang Wenbo in their Euro Players Tour Championship match in Germany. Officials reported Ding, who was fined for turning up "in circumstances where he may otherwise have properly withdrawn,” and where he was unable to "compete properly, which not only impacts on his reputation but also that of the sport.” Heavy stuff, and changed days indeed. Remember, this was the sport which over the years had people like Alex Higgins, Quinten Hann and Mark Williams hopping and hobbling around the table because of various leg injuries. We had at least one player made out to be a drug cheat because he loaded himself up with Night Nurse Cold & Flu, all because withdrawing from an event just wasn’t an option. On another occasion, the aforementioned Williams was forced to play in somewhat difficult circumstances that only became evident when he stretched for a long pot. Without warning the public or the referee, he dropped his cue and bolted from the arena. “I bent over and had two options – go for the shot or go for a shit,” was the bold Welshman’s graphic explanation into the nature of his illness. And before you ask, no, he wasn’t on the brown… Just days away from the Betfred.com "Embassy" World Championship (as someone referred to it recently), and Ronnie O’Sullivan’s participation in the event is called in to question. I am not one to make light of people’s problems, particularly around issues like depression which have beset Graeme Dott and Mark Allen of late, and O’Sullivan for some time. Cruelly referred to as "The Two Ronnies" (because no one is ever sure which one is going to turn up), the three-times world champion – arguably the most gifted player the game has ever seen – would receive more sympathy and understanding if he didn’t threaten to retire every time he’s interviewed. O’Sullivan has sought help from leading sports psychiatrist Dr Steve Peters, the "mind guru" (as the Daily Mail called him) who helped the Great Britain cycling team win eight gold medals in Beijing in 2008. Fitting perhaps, because you get the feeling one of them will be on their bike soon… Wednesday Don’t say we weren’t warned, but FIFA’s latest world ranking list shows Scotland tumbling 16 places down from 50th to 66th. Playing (and losing) to Brazil doesn’t seem such a good idea now that we’ve lost our place amongst the third tier of European seeds. Since they were first published in 1993, I have followed these rankings with amusement more than anything, laughing as we are overtaken by some nations which were not even nations when the list first appeared. It also helps to ease the pain if you read this chart, pop-pickers, in the manner of Alan "Fluff" Freeman (this might help, "Not arf!") or Tony Blackburn. Among this month’s big movers – and reaching their highest-ever standing – are Montenegro, zooming in at 24 (although their most famous son Hugo was "Top of the Pops" once). Albania – yes the country which had Norman Wisdom as its cultural hero – are at 50, and Rock-ing The Casbah at 58 is Libya. Libya! A war-torn country ripped apart by civil rebellion and the kind of international assistance you can do without is now higher than this nation which could rightly lay claim to having given organised football to the world. Pathetic. Of course, it is all too easy to draw comparisons between those who preside over the SFA and Libya. One has a president who rules with a fist of iron, who has seen off those who would challenge from within, will crush insubordination by unleashing the power of his office against them, who has scant regard for state or international law, and who obviously cares little about his or his nation's standing in the world. And the other is led by Colonel Muammar al-Gaddafi… Thursday And it emerges that the SFA bosses are considering legal action against Paul McBride QC after his allegations that they were "biased" towards Rangers and against his client, Celtic manager Neil Lennon. SFA chief executive Stewart Regan said: "We are now considering, with the benefit of legal advice, whether to sue just Paul McBride for damages or whether to also sue other parties. "In making his unjustified and inflammatory remarks, Paul McBride appears to be acting as a self-publicist and not as a QC. His wild and inaccurate statements are defamatory and appear to be malicious." Where oh where is this all this bickering and paranoia going to end? Hopefully in the High Court, with the SFA represented by Donald Findlay QC… Friday And Bolton Wanderers are but days away from an FA Cup semi-final with Stoke City. How well have Owen Coyle and sidekick Sandy Stewart done at the Reebok? Another great advertisement for Scottish managers making their mark in England – or should that be Scots-born managers, given that Owen Coyle is Irish, by dint of his parentage and his one cap against Holland? Enough genealogy, though. I first got to know Owen when he was at Clydebank before his £175,000 move to Airdrie. Yes, Airdrie had that kind of money in 1990, and got a debut hat-trick as part of the repayment. He was still living with his parents then, and on one occasion I had cause to call the family home looking for him. “Is Owen there?” I asked, to which Mrs Coyle replied: “What one do you want? Auld Oweny, young Oweny or onie Oweny…?”

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