Clichés and Crackpots.
As the dust settled on another Old Firm Sunday, it was almost impossible not to luxuriate in the blissful comfort of cliché. In a game which did not matter, we were quickly reminded thatevery match against them does. It was a game of two halves in which we won the midfield battle; it was a game with small margins in which desire and cool heads were required.
As is the way with clichés, all of the above are both factual and fatuous.
In the grand scheme of things, the three points meant nothing; however, the manner in which they were won cannot be underestimated. In appointing Barry Ferguson and his coaching team until the end of the season, Rangers left themselves open to derision from media figures and fans alike. Apparently, we had delved deep into the lucky dip of staunchness and hit the jackpot.
The mockery was quick to follow. The team were variouslydismissed as ‘a stag do,’ and ‘the staunch avengers,’ not to mention – the admittedly quite funny – Mount Staunchmore. Ferguson himself was lampooned as the failed Alloa manager and Ned Lasso. Closer to home, plenty of Rangers fans were neither enamoured nor overly excited by the prospect of limping to end of the season with these guys in charge.
But what we’ve seen on the touchline, training pitch and in the media room has perhaps given reason to pause.
Going to Turkey and winning was as unexpected as it was thrilling, but what was more impressive was how bold the manager was. This team had previously produced performances in Europe which belied their domestic form, but within the rigid parameters of Clement’s system. Ferguson’s tactical flexibility, and faith in the players to follow, bore fruit.
It is a well-worn adage that you manage things but lead people, and perhaps this is from where his recent successes have emerged. He has been unflinchingly honest in the press without discarding goodwill. He has trusted his players, showing belief in them but providing no excuses. When push came to shove last Thursday - and the set-up wasn’t functioning quite as it had in Istanbul - that trust was repaid by players who found a will to keep going when it felt like the game was slipping away.
Much the same could be applied to the team on Sunday. For the first half read Istanbul and the second, Ibrox. Boldness in selection and game plan. Aggression in execution. Strength in adversity and a belief that the game could be won.
Challenges lie ahead for Fergie et al, but they will not be met simply with a puffed chest and snarl. Those, as they should, will be present but it has become clear that these guys are more than a meme, more than a cliché, and it will be fascinating to see how we finish the season.
Like clichés, stereotypes find their origins in truth and the usual suspects from across the city rarely disappoint. I doubt, however, that anyone could have predicted the variety and scale of the outrage from the green and grey in the last day or so. Sure, we’d have all ticked the referee and VAR team on our Timplosion checklist without a second glance, and I suppose Dio’s celebration wouldn’t have been a massive shock as a late entry; however, who could have predicted that the “undemocratic and racist” actions of Police Scotland would have made cameo in tandem with the disrespectfully loud dressing room music? (By the way, Jinty, it might be prudent for an academic to understand the function of a possessive apostrophe. I mean, really?) Perhaps best of all, who, one wonders, might have mused on the availability of online guides to support the report of a skooshing?
In an era in which being a Rangers supporter has presented much uncertainty, it is reassuring to know that the joy of a win over them will always be multiplied by their utter crackpottery.
We haven’t had much opportunity of late to roll up our sleeves, puff out our chests and win our individual battles. It’s time to dig in, stand tall and fill the shirt. There are a few more to come. Let’s all hope that we are ready.
Rob Erskine
