SOME OF you might have been thinking that the Scottish Premier League was a busted flush, a perennial two-horse race that excludes the rest of the footballing public. Those of a cynical disposition might even suggest that the Old Firm brand has been damaged by overexposure, promoting a feeling that the games aren't very good. But it turns out that Celtic against Rangers matches are different. I know, because Ian Crocker told me so.
A month ago, during the last lunchtime encounter from Ibrox, I was pulling together a salad Niçoise in my kitchen when I tuned into Radio 5. The commentator said: "There hasn't been a shot in the first 20 minutes". "There hasn't been a pass,"
put in Pat Nevin. It didn't make me long to be there. But that was my problem, apparently, and on Wednesday at Parkhead, Setanta's match commentator set out to convince me.
Battling every sign to the contrary (like odds of 1/10 for Rangers to win the championship) Crocker was beside himself with excitement. This is a man who knows 101 ways in which Old Firm games matter, 98 of which he prised into his opening rhetorical flourish which began, "a match unmatched, a famous and fascinating fixture, a rivalry unrivalled. The oldest of old rivals, the Old Firm".
That set the standard. For 90 minutes, he feigned constant amazement as events unfolded in front of him. "Anything can happen and it usually does on derby day in this city!" he yelled. "A yellow card for a sub! It can only happen in an Old Firm game." Not really. The manager of the Sunday League team I played for was sent to the dressing room for sticking out his artificial leg and sending the opposition's right winger base over tip. Only on the playing fields of Saughton, eh?
Where the Old Firm really departs from other professional fixtures is in application of the rules. In the first minute Barry Robson launched a potentially lethal assault on Christian Dailly, leaping up and elbowing him in the face. A sending off offence? Not even a yellow card. In these games, assault and battery is permitted, it's only slashing that that'll land you in trouble. After 14 minutes, finally a name went into the book: Celtic's Paul Hartley for carrying a leg. It was Lee McCulloch's.
By the second half, brawls were breaking out. Aidan McGeady and Nacho Novo squared up; Barry Ferguson and Georgio Samaras handbagged each other. These days, I'm never certain where we stand on these matters, but I'm pretty sure I've heard Mark Lawrenson languidly remark on MOTD, "That's how it is these days, Gary, You raise your hands, you're off." Except in the Match of Matches, the Derby to end all Derbies.
Still, at least both teams wanted to win, the goals were good and the ending coaxed a grunt of disbelief from this onlooker, along with paroxysms of delight in the Setanta sales office as Rangers' odds for the title slipped to 1/9.
No such joy surrounded the Monday night offering, in which Chelsea drearily set about Wigan in one of the worst games of the season. For those who stuck it there was the reward of a late equaliser.
This time the commentary – from John Champion – was nicely understated. When a camera lingered on a banner which read "Chelsea our Religion" he said: "No wonder there's been a surge of atheism in SW6."
Normally, the honesty of this assessment would have made me chuckle but as I'd spent the best part of the afternoon liaising by telephone with a technical helpdesk in faraway Newcastle-upon-Tyne, as I attempted to install a new digital card on my TV, my goodwill was at breaking point, and I was £120 per annum poorer.
At half time I cracked. Panellists Steve McManaman and Tim Sherwood mulled over events. "Terrible, absolutely terrible," said Steve. Dead right, agreed Tim, "I wouldn't want to pay to watch that every week." You said it, Tim lad. But these are difficult decisions Setanta subscribers must face to keep you in a job.
The full article contains 701 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
