Uilleam

Did you see the celebrations at the goal? Their players looked pretty pumped to me. (Of course there should have been bookings for running to the crowd.)

Rangers were second to the ball all day. It looked like Windass and Hodson were ring rusty. Rangers could play until Hallowe'en, and not score. Maybe players are off the boil, or, worryingly, maybe one or two are not up to it. Fhilth FC is no great shakes, but wanted it more, it was clear. Joe Garner? Really?

Nah, Hank never steps out of the shadows..................

JonJo Shelvey @142

More chance, surely, if they follow a rugby prescription?

A Centurion with a time machine....Medicus Qui

Nos 137 & 150 are The Proclaimers, right?

Arguably, a Palestinian......

Thanks for that, Keith, no doubt we'll all join with you in kissing its fetid, stinking arse.

Put the support through the mill, with a meagre 1 win in 13 matches in charge. Strange, one of the country's finest young managers, we were told.

Nothing to do with the "Ulster Fry", then.......

I take it that the decision, and penalty, relate only to "seizure of documents subject to legal professional privilege and irrelevant documents not covered by the search warrant", and not to documents relevant to any live case. What is clear that the Crown Office/PF, as with all matters relating to the Rangers' cases, has shown a remarkable lack of professionalism.

Goal of a start to the fhilth, then.

Sutton is opinionated, and trying, desperately some would say, to cultivate an image as brash, outspoken, controversial, and of operating from left field. As a result he does overstep the mark, sometimes, probably too often for our sensitivities. He may yet learn to learn. There are guys who have been around and drawing a wage for very much longer, who really grind my gears, and who contribute nothing other than the vacuous, or the obvious, or the downright inane: step forward Mr Andy Walker, and Mr Davey Provan, stalwarts of rasellik, both.

Highly original, highly amusing banter. If he keeps up that standard of repartee, he might, just might, attract the attention of the Nobel Literature Committee. (He should live so long.)

The guy on the fhilth board, who, less than surprisingly, was victim of anti-semitic abuse by supporters, was a board member at BT, also, was he not? Where is he now? If the 'special relationship' forged by him, still holds, we can expect nothing from BT Sport.

Our Odious Coach could have them run out covered only by woad, for all the difference it would make to performances and results.

The little turd is trousering something like 400K per annum, plus perquisites. As he seems like the kind of man who is always last at the bar (if, indeed, he approaches it at all), he will have to be crowbarred out of his position; that is presupposing Lawwell actually wants him bagged.

If rasellikfootballclub was the agency instrumental in the employees' evasion, and the players, etc, lose huge sums, might they have a case to pursue it? I, for one, would love that, just love that.......

It would become even more interesting if rasellik, itself, was, in any way, responsible for this.

Actually, I could see a wage rise and a contract extension for the little turd; after all, there is no alternative to him; imagine where we would be if he was lured away by a top club side!!!

Wilson An interview from today's Times of London with the great man (a pity about the author, but hold your nose and read):- http://www.thetimes.co.uk/edition/scotland/we-lost-in-bratislava-but-later-we-crushed-spain-6-2-8ljpb2df5 We lost in Bratislava — but later we crushed Spain 6-2 Davie Wilson played in a powerful Scotland team but, he tells Graham Spiers, they lost in Czechoslovakia Graham Spiers October 11 2016, 12:01am, The Times Wilson resisted the riches of clubs south of the border to stay at Rangers, where he scored 157 goals It is 55 years ago now since Davie Wilson travelled to Bratislava with Scotland to face Czechoslovakia in a World Cup qualifier. This most prized Rangers left winger was 24 years old, earning £45 a week at Ibrox, and savouring every day of his life in football. “These were special times — and what a Scotland team we had back then,” Wilson enthuses to me over a cup of tea in Glasgow. “Sometimes you felt nobody could touch us. You’re talking guys like Denis Law, Jimmy Baxter, players of that ilk. Don’t forget I played in a Scotland team that trounced Spain 6-2 in Madrid in 1963.” The mystery only deepens. A check of the record books shows that, on that trip to Bratislava in 1961, Scotland were beaten 4-0 by the Czechs and Slovaks. One month earlier they had gone down 9-3 at Wembley. Yet a year later Scotland would beat England at Hampden, and go back to Wembley and win 2-1. To say nothing of that slaughter of Spain in the Bernabéu. The best goal I ever scored in my life, funnily enough, was during that Scotland 9-3 disaster at Wembley Wilson is keen to point out how many fine margins there were in football back then. “We finished the 1962 World Cup qualifying campaign level on points with the Czechs, and it went to a play-off, which they won 4-2, but only after our goalie, Eddie Connachan, had made a mistake,” he said. “Well, the Czechs went on to the World Cup final in ’62 where they lost 3-1 to Brazil. So as a team, we weren’t so far behind them. Look what we did to Spain.” Scotland defeating Spain 6-2 away was, and remains, an astonishing result. Yet the players in dark blue back then — Wilson, Ian St John, a young Willie Henderson, an emerging Billy McNeill, a brilliant Eric Caldow, never mind Baxter — were among the finest in Britain. They were days when Wilson himself felt the very essence of happiness. “I was a Rangers player, and a Scotland player, and I used to come out to the front door to give my father his match tickets — this would be either for games at Ibrox or at Hampden. He would stand there and his eyes would be laughing. His whole face would be saying, ‘that’s my boy’. “The best goal I ever scored in my life, funnily enough, was during that Scotland 9-3 disaster at Wembley. England had gone 3-0 up but my goal brought it back to 3-2. “I scored 157 goals for Rangers and quite a pile, too, for Dundee United, but that goal at Wembley was my best. I thought, ‘right, 3-2, here we go’. But, my god, our goalkeeper Frank Haffey … what a stinker. I was a better goalie than him.” In the early 1960s quite a few Scottish players, among them Baxter and Pat Crerand, chose to take the riches of English club football. But Wilson says he had no desire to give up playing in front of vast crowds at Ibrox, nor to leave the institution that was Rangers. “In 1961 Everton came to see me on the quiet — at my pigeon loft, in fact — with a view to signing me. They didn’t want anyone to know about it. “Everton said to me, ‘we’re going to put a bid in of £100,000 for you — you’ll be the first £100,000 player in British football.’ But I said to them, ‘I’m sorry, I cannae come’. For one thing, I was very happy at Rangers. But also, it would have been impossible for my father to travel from Glasgow to Liverpool for games, and he came to all my matches. “I would have gone on more money down there — about £100 a week. But I never wanted to leave the Rangers. And that was the end of it.” During this time Wilson claimed 22 Scotland caps —he would triple that today — and saw first hand the genius that prevailed in the Scottish game. “The best coaches I ever worked under would be Jock Stein and Eddie Turnbull. Whenever I was around Turnbull [as a youth player] I just wanted to hear what he had to say about football. He was a coach with tremendous ideas. “At Ibrox my manager was Scot Symon: he never left his office. I doubt he ever once saw us train. But he knew he had a great team. It was our trainer, Davie Kinnear, who got us fit. Mr Symon just picked the team — a 4-3-3 — and out we went. “This was the Rangers of Ian McMillan, Baxter, Henderson, Bobby Shearer, Caldow, Ralphie Brand and Jimmy Millar. In Baxter and McMillan we had two great passers of the ball. McMillan was a winger’s dream — he just took out the defenders every time with his passes.” Wilson used to go “jivin’” at the Barrowlands dancehall in Glasgow but his football remained sweet and pure. On March 17, 1962, he scored six for Rangers — a record that still stands — in a 7-1 win at Falkirk. But the end would come at Ibrox. After 11 trophy-laden years with Rangers, Wilson was suddenly dumped by the club, when Symon decided to swap him for Dundee United’s dribbling Swede, Orjan Persson. “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life,” Wilson claims Symon said to him on the phone a week later, with the former replying, “well, it’s too late now”. At 29, he went on to enjoy four good seasons at Tannadice, where a young Walter Smith was his kit boy and gofer. “I had great times at United,” he says. “But then Jim McLean, who was actually younger than me, came over the road from Dundee to be the Dundee United manager. I knew Jim wouldn’t take to me. I said to Walter, ‘lad, go and get my boots, cos I’ll be off … this manager won’t fancy me.’ “Jim came in and said to me, ‘I’m going to let you go’. It was nothing to do with skill, but the fact I was older than him. I thought, I’m going to have my say here. So I said, ‘you know what Jim … you couldn’t play in the games that I’ve played in … you couldn’t have played in the Bernabeu or in European finals.’ “We had our wee tiff. But when Jim won the title with Dundee United in 1983 I phoned him and said, ‘well done, you’re a very good manager, and I hope we can forget our fall-out’. He said, ‘aye, okay, let’s leave it at that’.” At Ibrox my manager was Scot Symon: he never left his office. I doubt he ever once saw us train Today Wilson is a contented man in Glasgow, soon to be 80 years old, and with an unusual side to his life. “I’m a spiritualist,” he says. “I go to a spiritualist church. I’m a medium. It’s just something that’s in you that has to be brought out. “I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life — we weren’t all Jimmy Baxters. I never fancied the taste of it. My father didn’t drink and nor did my mother. “Whenever we won anything at Rangers, and they poured champagne into the cup, I put it up to my lips as if I was drinking it, but I never did. These were great, great days.”

Let us hope that the experience has benefited MacKay, and that he has learned something from it, beyond confirmation that the Manager is a twisted cee-blank-blank-tee.

Indeed he did, in the 89th minute..... https://www.theguardian.com/football/2016/oct/09/mustafa-kapi-galatasaray-14-year-old-debut Galatasaray’s 14-year-old Mustafa Kapi makes first-team debut in friendly • Kapi makes brief cameo in 2-0 away win over Levski Sofia • Midfielder born in 2002 has spent three years in club academy Galatasaray fans may have a new homegrown hero to cheer after 14-year-old Mustafa Kapi received his first-team debut in a friendly. Sunday 9 October 2016 12.10 BST Last modified on Sunday 9 October 2016 14.13 BST Galatasaray handed 14-year-old academy player Mustafa Kapi his first-team debut in a friendly against Levski Sofia. Mustafa, a midfielder who joined from Denizlispor in 2013, replaced Sinan Gumus in the 89th minute at Levski’s Georgi Asparuhov Stadium in the Bulgarian capital. Galatasaray won 2-0, with goals from Josué and Hamit Altintop, who began his career before Mustafa was born in 2002. Another player – the right-back Sabri Sarioglu – has been playing for Galatasaray for his new team-mate’s entire life. The teenager thanked the manager, Jan Olde Riekerink, with a hug at the final whistle. Riekerink was the head of youth development for Ajax’s reserve team and has also managed youth teams in China. On this evidence, he is clearly prepared to give youth a chance. The Dutchman could offer Mustafa further opportunities with Galatasaray in a transitional phase – they finished sixth in the league last season, and were handed a two-year ban from European competition in March after failing to comply with financial fair play regulations.

It seems his race is run. Here is a review of his book, from today's Observer: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/oct/09/joey-barton-no-nonsense-review-autobiography No Nonsense by Joey Barton review – a serial adopter of the fresh start The controversial footballer’s autobiography teems with the rhetoric of self-development, but there’s no denying his self-deprecating humour… Alex Clark Sunday 9 October 2016 10.00 BST In a fractured and fractious world, diplomacy – or at least tact deployed so that one may get one’s way – is a vital tool. As with greatness, some men are born to it, some achieve it, and some have it thrust upon them: others, like the footballer Joey Barton, appear to have decided to dispense with it altogether. Here he is, resolved to confront his manager at Queens Park Rangers, Harry Redknapp, about the team’s terrible form: “He was watching the Racing Channel, and it was pointless hedging my bets. “‘Gaffer, I need to speak with you. I don’t know how you’ve managed to do this, but everyone hates you.’” There’s not hedging your bets, and then there’s walking in with an actual hedge and setting fire to it. But if Redknapp felt himself to be staring into the abyss of social isolation at that moment, Barton was also on hand with a glimmer of hope. He actually liked him. Barton, of course, makes great play of the fact that he doesn’t care whether he is liked or not. A famously enthusiastic user of Twitter, his sales pitch for his autobiography advised his followers: “If you want to buy it, buy it. If you don’t, don’t. But don’t come on here moaning at me today. I can’t be arsed with you. Have a day off.” (He had even shorter shrift for golfer Bubba Watson in the wake of America’s recent Ryder Cup victory: “Why is Bubba crying? Never even played. Dickhead!”) Full disclosure: I do like him. I interviewed him for the Observer four years ago, when an editor’s wheeze was to film us going round the Lucian Freud exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery – the idea being to reflect Barton’s apparent rebirth as a culture vulture. Charitably, you could call it a bid to disrupt expectations; but you might also suspect a little de haut en bas teasing. Anyway, we had a nice time, and afterwards we went for a spot of lunch at an unglamorous little cafe of Barton’s choosing, where he ate vegetable soup and hummus: he was swerving meat, he explained, having been reading up on it But a pleasant promenade can’t magically vanish Barton’s baggage. His combative personality has caused him problems at all his clubs, from Manchester City to Newcastle United, where he called caretaker manager Alan Shearer a cheat and accused him of wanting to surround himself with sycophants, to Glasgow Rangers, where he is nearing the end of a suspension for rowing with a team-mate following a 5-1 tonking in an Old Firm match. Last week he was also charged with allegedly placing 44 bets on football matches between July and September, in contravention of the Scottish Football Association’s rules on gambling. Off the pitch, there have been serious outbreaks of violence involving team-mates – Jamie Tandy, Ousmane Dabo – a teenage fan and his father while on a trip to Bangkok, not to mention various off-duty city-centre bust-ups with members of the public. Barton is a serial adopter of the fresh start; over the years, he has repeatedly declared himself a new man, wiser, more mature, in control of the destructive impulses that assail him. Now, perhaps more realistically, he has alighted on the Japanese theory of kaizen, or gradual and continuous improvement, and his book bustles with the frequently overblown verbal tics of self-development. It would be unfair to dismiss it because of that. Barton’s exploration of his childhood, which, despite close relationships with many family members and particularly his grandmother, was permeated with violence, will be rejected by his detractors as the search for an excuse. But killing and GBH were all around him; his brother Michael and a cousin are serving jail sentences for the racist murder of 18-year-old Anthony Walker in 2005. After the pair fled the country, Barton appealed to them to return and give themselves up but, he says, he still continually asks himself whether he could have done anything – presumably by exerting greater influence on them – to prevent the murder. Swagger though he might, those experiences have clearly marked him. But there is still humour. When Barton joined the England squad in 2007 to gain his one senior cap, he was greeted with a certain amount of frostiness by those of his new team-mates who had published autobiographies following a shabby showing in the previous year’s World Cup; Barton lampooned their efforts as “We got beat in the quarter-finals. I played like shit. Here’s my book.” It is to Barton’s credit that he captions a photograph of himself training with “my fellow authors, Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard”. See also his response to a reporter’s question as he left Rangers following his suspension. “Are you still a Rangers player, Joey?” Pause. “I think so.” No Nonsense is published by Simon & Schuster (£20). Click here to buy it for £16.40