You'll never dive alone

By Bernard Thompson

Published in the irish Times new media edition

A-a-ah, the little soul! There he was in his bestest footy gear, ready to watch his favourite team in their first ever Champions League match. He looked just like an athletic pixie. All excited he was. But his disappointment was heartbreaking when a dodgy penalty spoiled it. He stamped his feet and clenched his little fists but it was no good. Celtic had lost. Yes, it was a tough week for Martin O'Neill.

What a rotter that Nicola Amoruso was! He Fosberry flopped to get Juventus the three points. He cheated, Ref, he cheated! He's admitted as much himself. Chris Sutton has never done anything like that. His penalty collapse was clearly just.

Celtic players never cheat or play dirty - no, no, no. Celtic players know nothing of gymnastic floor exercises. Celtic players are hard but fair like "rugged" Neil Lennon and "clumsy tackler", Alan Thompson, who have tattooed players all over Scotland, with their stud marks. They're just professional and Calimero was right: "eet's an eenjustees eet ees".

In truth, moans aside, Celtic did perform outstandingly well in Turin and the League form continued to hold up with a 2-0 win over Aberdeen. Now, though, they start from scratch against Porto. O'Neill's animated protests in Turin earned him a one-match touchline ban, to be served on Tuesday. Barring him from the dressing room, though, makes sense only in the minds of UEFA officials. I pray never to understand such logic. Celtic's away showings in Turin and Amsterdam suggest that a draw would not be disastrous but defeat would make their prospects look pretty gloomy.

At Ibrox, on the other hand, there are unconfirmed sightings of smiles. They caned Dundee Utd, 6-1, on Saturday and looked almost stylish in doing so. UEFA have just about seen sense and moved the tie with Anzhi Makhachkala, to a neutral venue, (albeit in a single-leg match) and if they get through the next week unbeaten, things might finally take a turn for the better.

Playing in midfield, rather than defence, Bert Konterman looks like a football player rather than a comedian. Fernando Ricksen has yet to have an emotional incident, this season. And the unfairly criticised Tore Andre Flo will have taken more confidence from his three goals at the weekend. All this with Barry Ferguson's return and the presence of Craig Moore gives Rangers a real chance of taking something from the first Old Firm game on Sunday.

As for our other European representatives, Hibs indulged in second-half panic against an AEK Athens side that they were coming to grips with to make my backing of them look rather silly. Unabashed, and a frustrated Russian Roulette player, I am still going to stake everything on them somehow overcoming AEK, who have better players. Kilmarnock's 1-1 home draw with Viking Stavangar doesn't make them look like great bets to go through, either, but I will also stick with them to overcome. My motivation in this is to delay admitting that I was wrong until I have thought of a decent excuse for my poor judgement.

Even these disappointments pale next to the fate of Billy Davies. The first Scottish manager of the season to be mutually consented can curse his bad luck. Respected by his peers and admired by his subordinates, he had produced decent results before the wholesale selling of his squad. His team were also fitting standard-bearers for the town of Motherwell: dull, depressing and often absolutely filthy. On the bright side, it is claimed that Marius Lacatus and Walter Zenga are among 40 serious candidates to have expressed an interest the job. Others include Harvey, Sasquatch and Howling Jake from my local boozer.

Finally, sincere thanks to those big lumps in the international rugby scene. I had considered panning Martin O'Neill for losing his head in Turin but nothing makes me appreciate association football as well as rugby union's contemptible game. My upper lip is snarled, not stiff. I want to hear songs slandering referees, not "Bye Bye Blackbird". And in my book, tunnels are for pushing and shoving opponents - not applauding them.

For all the current whines about cheating, it is in football that players can say, "I took a dive - get over it." It is in the game of soccer that managers blow fuses while apoplectic fans vent spleen at the pitch or throw tellies out of windows. There is a passion, a spontaneity and, damn it, an honesty that the jolly good show of 15-man rugby will never elicit. So keep chopping them down, Neil. Splutter your words of anger, Martin. And you Chris, as long as you play for Celtic, dive on. And you'll never dive alone.

Would the Old Firm just sod aff?

By Bernard Thompson

Published in the Irish Times new media edition

Hurrah! The football’s back and Scotland is echoing to the sound of sated men burping in contentment. We have had the first European action already and, if that fact was an indictment on recent performances, it still allows us to boast that our teams can handle anything that Slovenia can throw at us. Happy days.

But these times are happier for some than for others. Dermot Desmond’s assertion that the Old Firm will inevitably move to the Premiership has sparked the usual mixture of salivation and spluttering anger. For once, Celtic seem to be leading while Rangers officials are nodding in agreement.

David Murray, who has always insisted that Rangers are fully committed to Scotland, is now "coming round to the idea". According to Murray, he is starting to suspect that the rest of Scotland’s clubs would be better off without the Old Firm.

That suggestion is nonsense, of course. Rangers and Celtic have always propped up the smaller Scottish clubs and Murray was being more realistic when he predicted that eight to ten of them could go bust, even with the help of the big two. However, there is much talking to be done, although Celtic’s chairman, Brian Quinn, insists that everyone, to whom he has spoken, views the idea favourably.

One factor that must be overcome is the barring, from UEFA competitions, of any club that does not play in its own country’s primary league. It has emerged that the Welsh clubs, Swansea City, Cardiff City and Wrexham are currently banned because they play in England. Presumably, this would also apply to the proposed Atlantic League, which is still being discussed.

On the field, the start to the season was unusually good with at least three goals scored in every match. Dick Advocaat is already planning for the contest with Fenerbahce, after Rangers' 3-0 away win over NK Maribor.

The Gers also beat Aberdeen by the same score, at Pittodrie, in a match that, for once, failed to explode into a blood-letting. The Rangers goals came from each of their new signings, Christian Nerlinger, Russell Latapy and Claudio Caniggia and there is room for hope at Ibrox. If they can steer clear of unrest or misfortune, for a few weeks, they look certain to challenge very strongly for the title, this year.

Celtic’s own 3-0 win, over St Johnstone, was unspectacular but efficient. The result was less talked about than the speculation about whether the club or certain players would be moving. Stephane Mahe seems to be bound for Hearts as may be either Jonathan Gould or Stewart Kerr. The latter two are redundant at Celtic and Hearts, who are set to sell Anti Niemi, need a replacement urgently.

But who is coming in? Matt Elliott is touted as a stick-on certainty to sign this week while O’Neill’s admiration for the Battler of Wounded Knee, John Hartson, endures. Unfortunately, with a Champions League transfer deadline looming, Coventry seem to be trying to turn the screw by demanding "seven million of your Scottish pounds". Also mooted are moves for Fiorentina’s Moreno Torricelli and Tomas Repka as well as Magnus Hedman.

Now, all of this Old Firm stuff is pretty much par for the course in the Scottish Premier League. However, it would be remiss to fail to highlight two far rarer events. Firstly, Livingston played their first ever top division game and won it, beating Hearts by two goals to one. Livingston look like providing a model for success with a small club, much of it based on stadium development, and they have a real chance of sustaining SPL status.

But the first leaders of the SPL are Dunfermline. The Pars, who are managed by the talented Jimmy Calderwood, beat probable relegation candidates, Motherwell, by five goals to two. It will probably be the only time, this season, that neither Celtic nor Rangers are top dogs so the fans in the Kingdom of Fife are entitled to live royally for a few days. However, I wonder if this brief success might prompt greater hedonistic dreams: "We could be Scottish Champions if the Old Firm would just sod aff!"

Oh, to be Irish in Paradise

By Bernard Thompson

Published in the Irish Times new media edition

 When Celtic lifted the Scottish Cup, to secure the domestic treble, a huge step was taken towards the restoration of the club's reputation. In these days of football clubs being described in terms of their brand identity, Celtic's association with failure and defeat was damaging to more than the morale of the supporters.

For that, Martin O'Neill will have the eternal gratitude of the marketing executives who attempt to promote Celtic worldwide. However, an even more profound change took place over the last twelve months and that was the resurrection of a sense of Irishness at Celtic Park.

It is no secret that the Irish in Britain were not always exactly welcomed. It is unsurprising, then, that the Irish in Glasgow and beyond should cling to a club that was founded to assist the poorest of their number. For generations, Scots-born Protestants, like Jock Stein, seemed comfortable with the profile of a club that was open to all but proud of its links across the Irish Sea.

That began to change in the Fergus McCann era. With the "Bhoys Against Bigotry" campaign, McCann made genuine, well-intentioned efforts to distance Celtic from sectarianism but, at times, the political correctness seemed to resemble a symbolic cleansing of Celtic's image. In a country in which singing The Soldier's Song is regarded as bigoted behaviour, there was a suspicion that Celtic were trying to eradicate all mention of Ireland.

But McCann's departure enabled the first of three extremely influential Irishmen to come to prominence. Dermot Desmond became the club's major shareholder and the most powerful man at Celtic. In terms of popular perception, little changed. Desmond always suffered by false comparisons with David Murray at Rangers. The Scottish press have tended to expect Desmond to match the spending - and high-risk strategy - of Murray, despite sound legal and structural impediments on his doing so.

Still, it is easier to convey, to the general public, the simpler message: "If Rangers can do it, why can't we?" With Desmond's reluctance to embark on any personal PR campaigns, there was little fresh enthusiasm for Ireland amongst the support, a substantial part of which complied with the "denial of roots" culture.

That has changed since the appointment of Martin O'Neill. No breast-thumping patriot, O'Neill is an unlikely leader of a reawakening of ethnic consciousness. Nevertheless, he is unafraid to be seen for who and what he is. In many ways, his expression of Irishness that is neither apologetic nor ostentatious is precisely what Celtic should have been aspiring to in the reinvention of the club.

There is also more to his importance in this matter than his success. The quiet, dignified but strong personality that O'Neill transmits to the supporters contributes to making him the first manager since Billy McNeill, to fulfil the role of icon, which Celtic fans crave.

Part of O'Neill's success has been his ability to appear to be a father-figure to the entire Celtic community. In that atmosphere, it is unthinkable that the Irishness of Celtic could be undermined.

The next link in the chain came with the purchase of Neil Lennon. There are Celtic players who are more talented than Lennon but few who are more effective and he has no peers in terms of commitment. The fact that he rejected a higher salary to articulate his passion for Celtic began a process of endearment that could see Lennon accede to legendary status.

The taunts and threats that the move brought on him only strengthened a level of support that was already bordering on hero-worship. If ever a player looked to be a likely captain of any club, it is Neil Lennon with Celtic.

But could he yet have one more rival? Roy Keane's avowed desire to play for Celtic presents another intriguing prospect. There is a (perhaps misplaced) general presumption that Keane's undoubted ability equates to Martin O'Neill's desire to sign him. But, if Keane should become a Celtic player, while still at his peak, the level of Celtic hysteria might threaten to overwhelm even the captain of Ireland.

Let there be no doubt that Celtic is a Scottish club. At the same time, there are lessons to be learned from a recent academic study, which compared the experiences of Irish Scots with those of American blacks. It also found that anti-Irish hostility engendered a hesitancy in acknowledging Irish heritage. Perhaps, then, people at Celtic could be forgiven for paraphrasing James Brown: "Say it loud - Irish and proud."

Could he be the Celtic Messiah?

By Bernard Thompson

Published in the Irish Times online edition

The qualities of Martin O'Neill are myriad. That has been obvious to anyone who has taken a passing interest in Scottish football, this season. He has a level of intelligence that causes media hacks to be more than a little guarded when laying the camouflaged man-traps that often pass for questions to Old Firm managers.

He has motivational powers that are certainly not lessened by his ability to present himself as a man who is not to be messed around in any circumstances. For evidence of that look only to the vocal declarations of solidarity from a group of players, many of whom were less co-operative with the unfailingly well-mannered Jo Venglos or his naïve successor, John Barnes.

He knows a bit about football, too. Winning 28 of 33 League matches, the quickest Scottish championship win since 1975, a League Cup and probable treble were not widely predicted of the team that was 21 points off the pace in 1999-2000.

And, clearly, he is also observant but wise enough to resist making provocative remarks. O'Neill chooses his words carefully and, when his comments are examined, a level of discipline is evident that is worthy of someone with legal training. He actually says very little but consistently repeats the simple messages that he wishes to convey. So it is always interesting to attempt to decode some of his more subtle statements.

This week, he was discussing anxiety. He professed a degree of bemusement that Celtic fans should allow themselves to become so anxious and transmit this feeling to the players. For "anxious" read "like foot-stamping children" because the behaviour he refers to is not easily explained by simple tension.

Celtic's "long-suffering fans", as they are known in the press, do indeed deserve the victory that Martin O'Neill delivered to them. However, a large proportion of the Celtic Park crowd is so demanding as to suggest that they were not around in the dark days of the shack of misery that the pre Fergus McCann ground had become. Otherwise they would be more grateful for a championship, served with all the trimmings, and a little more forgiving of the failings of Tommy Johnson, who scored against Dundee and St Mirren to seal the title.

What must trouble the dreams of the Celtic manager is the fact that this euphoric crowd were not a million miles from being a baying mob, even as they reached the pinnacle of one of the most successful seasons in their club's history. O'Neill knows that he will never again be so strongly aided by a Rangers side which emulated last season's Celtic almost precisely.

With Rangers' draw against Hibs, they are now almost certain to progress to the Champions League, where their superior seeding will allow them a more favourable draw than the new Scottish Champions. That might allow a team that looks better on paper than on grass to exceed Celtic's progress in Europe to predictable dismay.

If all this sounds rather biblically apocalyptic, in an Easter week that should be a time of Celtic celebration, I make no apology. O'Neill, himself, chose to refer to his observance of Lent to bemoan his inability to celebrate with Champagne. He could also hardly have missed the latest and, no doubt, ecclesiastically inspired salutation to Henrik Larsson as the fans sang their hosanna's to Henrik Larsson (a.k.a Ghod, on fans' shirts), declaring him to be the "King of King's".

Martin O'Neill's rapid achievements, which certainly indicate a form of genius, have stimulated outrageous expectations. So, when he spoke of the anxiety of fans, who have touted him as the second coming of Jock Stein, perhaps he was really projecting that, come Easter 2002, he could face demands to prove that he really is the Celtic messiah - something he has never claimed to be.

Perhaps, then, his comments about the fans' emotional state reveal a concern that the crowd that could be so truculent at the height of their joy might one day be so fickle as to demand some Barabbas, if another miracle is not forthcoming. In short, his observation might best be translated thus: "If that's how they are when we win the League; if things go wrong, they'll crucify me."

Trials and travails of the Tartan Army

 By Bernard Thompson

Published in the Irish Times new media edition

"I wonder my blood, will you ever return? To help us kick the life back, to a dying mutual friend. Do we not love her? Do we not say we love her? Do we have to roam the world to prove how much it hurts?"

Letter from America, the maligned lament for Scottish exiles, could be the anthem for the Tartan Army. This time, the bobbling masses in kilts and grouse-feathers had only to roam to Hampden Park to prove how much it hurts to follow Scotland but the pain was just the same.

It has often been said that for a Scotsman to claim to be a balanced individual he must first have a chip on both shoulders. According to popular wisdom, we always feel hard done by and an inferiority complex is a national trait. Too right, it is! Why? For that you must address the men in the only uniform that has lower standing than denim with arrows printed on it - navy blue shirt, white shorts and red socks.

These custodians of our dreams test themselves in the only true measure of relative international worth. Forget economic greatness or scientific achievement and don't talk to me about gutsy Jocks walking through minefields during times of war. Soccer is all that matters to your average family member of "Jock Tamson's Bairns" and that doesn't breed a lot of cockiness in the Hampden horde. As a football team, the Scottish national side is close to useless.

Saturday's match with Belgium saw yet another chapter written in the slapstick history of soccer absurdity. Notoriously poor in attack, the Scots were a goal up after a minute. Billy Dodds slotted the ball in beautifully after a move that, had it been produced by Brazil, would have been described as not bad.

It was all going swimmingly well. The truly desperate Hampden turf was thwarting the Belgians' passing game quite nicely. The Scots scoffed that the Navy Blues don't need the grass to exploit the "aerial power" of Colin Hendry et al. Good old Colin won his 50th cap in a rude comment on the depth of available talent.

Then came a sublime moment. What physiological phenomena explain the reflexes of the human body? Why does one person react to a stimulus one way when another demonstrates an opposite reaction? Who cares? Eric Dayflarndra's wretched instincts caused his hands to come together in front of him preventing the ball from bouncing off his chest. Penalty, red card, Dodds scores, slam-bam thank-you ma'am. Look out my sushi mat, mum, I'm off to Tokyo.

Then came the awful realisation. Scotland were in the feared commanding position. Still, it was not until Barry Ferguson was through on goal that the dastardly power of the honey trap was fully shown. There we were buzzing to 3-0 when Ferguson outdid Gordon Smith in his famous FA Cup Final miss for Brighton. Very soon our once-soaring wings were stickied until we were welded to the side of the jar waiting for sweet death.

Marc Wilmots's goal was the first to reveal another of those days was in the offing. Following him was van Buyton, whose equaliser could only have come in the last minute of injury time.

With trademark grimace, I made my way to a nearby bar where I hoped to find solace but even that was denied me. A one-eyed Belgian making the improbable claim that he had played a lot of football (about eight stones ago) chose me as a receptacle for his profusely expelled glee.

"I'm not being rude but Belgium are a lot better than Scotland," he said, and I could hardly argue. Some 60 minutes later, he temporarily excused himself with a parting shot: "Klos, Van Bronckhurst, Larsson and Valgaeren - your league's only good goalkeeper is German, the best midfielder is Dutch, the top striker is Swedish and you know where your best defender comes from. Ha, ha, ha - he's Belgian."

I did not see my Belgian friend again until, at closing time, I witnessed a barman kicking in the cubicle door in the lavatory only to reveal my erstwhile companion who had been slumbering with his trousers at his ankles. To a background of words in a foreign tongue, I left. Partial onlookers dispute the reason for my ungainly walk but I maintain that it was nothing other than the smug swagger of moral victory.

Roll on Wednesday night. San Marino, bring on your finest!

Back to the drawing board for Advocaat

 By Bernard Thompson

Published in the Irish Times, Thursday February 8, 2001

Those who have experienced Old Firm games understand that matches between Celtic and Rangers have unlimited potential to captivate, bewilder or appal.

Perhaps it is the aggressive nature of the city of Glasgow or the political and religious undertones of the rivalry that is apparently able to transmit itself to outsiders from all nations and cause them to abandon the lessons of experience and good sense.

It may be that the suspicion that "foreigners" cannot find it in themselves to care about the mere defence of "the colours" over-motivates the players on show until they resort to making decisions based on desperation and anger. Whatever the powers at play, last night's CIS Cup semi-final match was an example of how the entities involved have the capacity to hack notches in the totem of football history, irrespective of the personnel involved.

The match last night was expected to be little more than an enthusiastic warm-up for the more significant league encounter at Celtic Park on Sunday. What developed before the eyes of 52,000 supporters and millions of television viewers was one of the classic encounters of competitiveness and incident with both parties sacrificing the finer points of the game in determination that their will would prevail. In that, Celtic's victory was far more complete than the 3-1 scoreline.

The comment preceding the match fooled few. Dick Advocaat praised Henrik Larsson to an extent that was as gaudy as it was lavish. If he had hoped to emulate Bob Paisley in persuading his opponents' star player to believe in, rather than prove, his greatness his failure was complete. In the circumstances, Larsson's untouchable professionalism only confirmed the accuracy of the critiques offered by Advocaat and his young captain, Barry Ferguson. It was players such as Larsson who Kipling would have addressed as "a man, my son".

As for Martin O'Neill, he discussed the merits of fielding a weakened side with a detached confidence. If the injury problems that had prompted Advocaat to remind the world that he had only 15 fully fit players occurred to O'Neill, he managed to flit past the subject with virginal innocence. O'Neill would like his opponents to think of him as a naïve journeyman, content to take the hard knocks as part of a learning experience. He is nothing of the sort.

He may have abandoned the study of law to pursue a career in football but in the even more intellectually sophisticated field of interpersonal psychology, he is worthy of an honorary doctorate. There is a distinct impression from O'Neill that he could point a gun to your head and still persuade you to underestimate him. That particular analogy seems especially relevant to Dick Advocaat just now.

The victory that will be recorded in the record books belies a set of statistics that are far more significant than the imbalance of goals. More telling are the figures that will add to the disciplinary tallies. Against three yellow and one red card to Celtic players are eight bookings and two sendings off for Rangers yet there are Scottish teams that traverse the rules with more vigour and planning than they. But, as in their league match with Hearts, when Claudio Reyna and Arthur Numan were dismissed, Rangers demonstrated all of the symptoms of industrial stress to the point of breakdown.

After Celtic's opening threatened to overwhelm their opponents in an easy checkmate, Rangers seized on the opportunities of gifted possession to merit their goal if not the penalty that facilitated it. This was their chance to strike at the heart of Celtic's success this season - their belief. However, after the break, it was clear that O'Neill had been prolific with the hypodermic that has infused his team with a conviction that a protecting light shines upon them. Their resilience soon prompted a reaction of frantic despair among the Blues.

To his credit, Barry Ferguson, who was the chief offender in the first Rangers abomination on the occasion of the earlier Celtic Park encounter, has received the captaincy of his club and transformed himself from a potentially excellent player to a leader with the makings of greatness. But no monumental captain of the past could have reined in such panic in older men as was witnessed last night, when even the impeccable Michael Mols was prompted to aberrant behaviour.

The contrast with Celtic's ranks could scarcely be more stark. New to the experience, Neil Lennon nipped the heels of transgressing Rangers like a prize sheepdog relishing the work while the once vilified Ramon Vega portrayed a confidence that his gigolo looks would befit on yet another date. There was no self-doubt in Celtic.

Now all eyes turn to Celtic Park on Sunday. Rangers could win and the erratic Old Firm history gives them some succour. But for Dick Advocaat, who is proud of a record that has never seen him sacked, the prospect is daunting. He must force his players to employ a cold application that has evaded them on the key occasions this season. And he must find a way to freeze the trigger finger of Martin O'Neill. 

More predictable than Davie White

By Bernard Thompson

 Published in The Irish Times New Media edition

Tartan Special

At last, the season is hotting up. The biggest week so far in the Scottish season lies ahead with the keenly anticipated Old Firm double header.

On Wednesday, the national stadium (aka the third-best ground in Glasgow) hosts the semi-final of the CIS Cup while Celtic Park is the venue for Sunday's crucial league match. Fans on both sides are indulging in hedonistic dreams of crushing the enemy, like a boot heel on an upturned beetle, twice in five days.

There is also the matter of the other CIS semi-final between St Mirren and Kilmarnock. My infallible Old Firm predictions will come at the end of this week's round-up.

If hostility will consume Glasgow in the latter part of this week, old-fashioned enmity was the order of the evening on Wednesday, when Aberdeen assailed Ibrox.

Two red cards maintained an acceptable aggro count for the preservers of anger. That was par for the course but the rejuvenated Tugay Kerimoglu, who scored the game's only goal for Rangers, further fanned the flames with public accusations of vile abuse.

Unbeknown to most, Tugay's mother died three months ago and he alleged that an unseen Dons player directed an obscene taunt relating to the matter. Equally offended are the Aberdeen players, who made convincing claims of ignorance of his bereavement.

Still, it sets things up for another bloodletting when the two sides next meet.

Indeed, Tugay has suddenly been launched to prominence, thanks to Rangers' injuries. He scored a scorcher against Dunfermline, with Michael Mols adding another. The match was Scotland's first pay-per-view encounter and the debate over whether such TV deals will kill or cure the Scottish game rages on.

Opponents of the scheme claimed divine intervention when thick fog in Perthshire caused Celtic's match with St Johnstone to be postponed minutes before the scheduled kick-off. That game was to have pioneered the television experiment but the plain grey screens made for a disappointing spectacle.

The postponement of the match also meant that Stillian Petrov could not serve his full suspension before the Old Firm league match.

Normal service for Celtic was resumed with a 3-0 win over Hearts at Tynecastle yesterday. The game itself was typical of Celtic's season in that Henrik Larsson supplied all of the goals yet again. The victory was not without cost, however, as Joos Valgaeren was stretchered off with a serious ankle injury.

Better news for Martin O'Neill came with Eyal Berkovic's decision to consider a loan move to Blackburn Rovers. With the imminent departure of Berkovic and the releasing of Daniel Prodan by Rangers, the musty scent of dead wood is gradually being lifted from Glasgow.

Possibly the worst signing in the history of Scottish football, Prodan failed to kick a ball for Rangers since arriving for £2.2 million sterling in 1998.

At Hibernian, much jollity accompanied Alex McLeish's decision to extend his contract until 2003. McLeish's success with Hibs has made him hot property and he had been linked with a clutch of major jobs in the past few months.

His sanity was openly questioned in 1998, when he left Motherwell for a Hibs side that was certain to be relegated. However, his reinvention of the Edinburgh club makes his the best managerial performance of the season so far. The securing of McLeish has also persuaded the iconic Franck Sauzee to extend his stay at Easter Road, where he believes that he may be manager some day.

Away from domestic football, there was excitement at the prospect of Scotland being a potential host of the World Club Championships. FIFA General Secretary Michel Zen-Ruffinen believes that the country would be ideal because of its small number of quality grounds and undisputed passion for the game.

Certainly, the enthusiasm for the tournament would outstrip that of the Brazilian debacle in which the locals refused to attend matches that did not involve their clubs. On the other hand, the teams from the host nation would probably not be regarded as the hottest favourites to make the final.

But now, to save you watching, I can tell you of the outcome of the two Old Firm clashes. I believe that the neutral venue will favour Rangers in the semi-final of the CIS Cup and that they will beat Celtic to provide the first real test for Martin O'Neill.

In the League match, I have become less convinced that Celtic will win but I stand by my conviction, chiefly because of home advantage. Even with the possible return of Giovanni Van Bronckhurst to Rangers and the probable loss of Celtic's Joos Valgaeren, I will take Celtic to deal the death blow to Rangers' championship challenge with a narrow victory in an angry game.

In doing so, I should offer one small caveat - in the form of a Scottish football fable. For part of Jock Stein's time as manager of Celtic, his counterpart at Rangers was Davie White. On the eve of a clash between the sides, both managers were asked for a prediction.

The first to speak was White, who tipped his side to secure a two-goal victory. Undaunted, Stein refused to speculate, warning that "only an idiot would ever try to predict the outcome of an Old Firm game."

If that is the case, in pre-empting two of them, I must be at least twice as clever as Davie White... I think.