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Walter Smith - he was a showman, with shiny trophies everywhere...


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By AIDAN SMITH

There's a sector of journalism which is hugely under-rated and yet endlessly inventive. I'm talking about those campaigns dreamed up on slow Tuesday afternoons, usually by more excitable journals, almost always involving Rangers.

Remember "Flecky for Scotland"? That was the campaign to get John Fleck into the national squad. The lad had made only a handful of first-team appearances but such was the slowness of that Tuesday, and such was the player's resemblance to Wayne Rooney, that few were surprised by the headlines, close to "War is Declared" dimensions. The small funnies could justify their stance like this: it's a feel-good story, a heartwarming one about a kid, our very own assassin-faced baby - what's the problem?

 

Then there was "Nacho for Scotland", the campaign to put Nacho Novo in the dark blue, which could be justified thus: the Scottish Parly, no less, are always banging on about "inclusiveness" so what better way to demonstrate the policy than by recognising the plucky Spaniard as one of our ain folk - and we'll even pop a square sausage in his international cap?

 

And so we come, as we inevitably must, to "Arise Sir Wattie". The campaign to get Walter Smith a knighthood hasn't ended with the click of regulation brown-loafer heels at the foot of the marble steps, before the manager exited Ibrox. A few days ago, an esteemed member of the hack-pack began his column: "Sir Walter Smith of Carmyle sounds just fine to me . . ." The journo's paper is a famous title once celebrated by punk poet John Cooper Clarke for being "Where William Hickey meets Michael Caine/Again and again and again and again", so clearly it likes to hammer a point. Maybe this scribe is staffing the knighthood lobby by himself over the close season, but the calls will build again in time for the New Year's Honours List - just you wait.

 

So, should he get one? Walter Smith: The Football Years, STV's two-part retrospective beginning on Tuesday, can help us decide. It goes all the way back to Smith's own playing days and unearths grainy footage of a rare goal, netted from five inches in a Dundee derby, followed by a weird kiss-the-boot celebration. And it concludes that, as a boss, he's right up there with Scotland's greats: Matt Busby, Bill Shankly, Jock Stein and Alex Ferguson.

 

This is the key area of debate. Those who think he is, point to his ten titles and 21 trophies; those who think he isn't, not quite, mention his lack of success in Europe, the arena which brought knighthoods for Ferguson and Busby and should have done for Stein, too, being the trailblazer. In the documentary Smith regrets those Champions' League wimp-outs.

 

We're reminded of a 1997 boast by Sir David Murray, that Rangers could win the trophy within three years.

 

The chairman gave Smith some great players, at least in his first spell at Ibrox but, while Brian Laudrup and Paul Gascoigne could be casually brilliant in the SPL, they often didn't turn up on European nights.

 

Ironically, Smith had lesser talents second time around but made it to a Euro final. Those hesitating over the knighthood talk about the lack of style ("Anti-football," said Lionel Messi) and Ally McCoist insists that, even against Zenit St Petersburg, they had to go defensive although, in a one-off game, many would have wished the club of Jim Baxter and Willie Henderson to have attacked more.

 

There are no great revelations, save for the fact that, on Fridays, Smith was partial to an Empire biscuit. Lots of people say lots of nice things: "honest, genuine, a real football man". No one quite hails him as a "brilliant tactician", although it has been almost brilliant how he's papered over the cracks these past two seasons. Football, he argues, isn't about "the manager standing up there, accepting the plaudits" - it's about the players. There are a couple, the Stevens Whittaker and Naismith, who are probably running for him still.

 

But "Sir" Wattie? I'm afraid not, and here's why: he's coasted like a Gazza on a reputation, never challenged, as the SPL's biggest muso, a rock 'n' roll fan with impeccable credentials, but the terrible truth emerges at the end of this portrait. Given the chance last year to see Crosby, Stills & Nash in Las Vegas, he opted instead for Barry Manilow.

 

http://scotlandonsunday.scotsman.com/sport/Aidan-Smith-Walter-Smith-.6779822.jp?articlepage=2

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What a bitter ass clown. I briefly read parts and showing what a twat he is. How he gets to write in a bloody paper/website I'll never know.

 

The one good thing though is the pain in that article oozes out:D

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Guest Dutchy

Is it Aidan that makes the decision?

 

I didn't think so.

 

Of course, I'm sure Walter's not too worried about all this, but I can't say for sure. Me, peronally can't stand the honours system. There's so many knights in Britain, you've probably never heard of them before as they're all obsure businessmen, well SDM isn't, I suppose.

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Me, peronally can't stand the honours system. There's so many knights in Britain, you've probably never heard of them before as they're all obsure businessmen, well SDM isn't, I suppose.

 

A worthy subject for discussion! :thup:

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