For high farce last week, Glasgow was your only possible destination, where, amid scenes of wild jubilation, Rangers slashed Celtic’s lead at the top of the SPL to a mere 18 points.
As small victories go, it should have required a microscope. Instead it was blown up out of all proportion.
What a depressing sporting spectacle the whole thing was. At stake, the right to laugh in your neighbours’ faces, while rubbing their noses in it.
Ugliness was everywhere; from Celtic fans carrying a coffin to Ibrox to commemorate what they hope will soon be Rangers’ passing to home supporters generating an atmosphere so menacing it was decided to restrict Neil Lennon to the media room for his own safety once he had talked himself into another red card.
All the more laughable that so much hysteria was injected into a contest with standards so low that Sone Aluko — rejected by Birmingham — could skate through Celtic’s statues like Torvill and Dean Windass. And, at the other end, a talent as modest as Georgios Samaras could, at times, strut like Georgia Salpa. Noticeably, the bitterness that now characterises the Old Firm derby is writ large on the faces of the managers.
Where once — when he was away from this madness — Ally McCoist flirted with the idea of developing a sense of humour, his ballooning jowls are now fixed in grim entrenchment. His spasm of celebration that greeted Lee Wallace’s clincher spilled bottled anger along the touchline.
And anger is, it seems, all that Neil Lennon knows.
All we can hope is that Rangers somehow survive, lest all this unpleasantness need a fresh target.
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