Celtic, The Old Firm and the Persistence of Memory

The first Old Firm match I ever followed was in 2000. Martin O’Neill has just arrived, live updates on the internet were a new novelty, and Celtic kicked the pine tar out of Rangers 6-2.

“Excellent,” I thought. “This is how it’s going to be as a Celtic supporter, then. Sunshine and rainbows from here on out.”

Now, football is football so Celtic have lost a couple of Old Firm matches since then, and Scotland is Scotland so there have been a couple of sunny days as well. My expectations, though? They’re still lodged (1) firmly in the Demolition Derby.

The Hoops may win by less than 6-2, sometimes may occasionally lose (where are my pearls, I must clutch them), but in my head, The Right and Proper Order Of The World is that Celtic win by country mile. Deviations from that script make me unhappy and itchy (exacerbated by the fact that I don’t wash my Celtic top). If it doesn’t match how I saw the world when I first started watching football, then it’s some degree of rubbish.

I suspect many in the football press are like me in that fashion; we want things to go back to The Natural Order. In this case, that Natural Order is that there must be a Rangers, there must be a Celtic, and there must be an Old Firm match.

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A new Rangers club was formed in 2012 after the previous club was liquidated. Under a strict reading of UEFA rules, this club has never been in the Champions League, never won a top flight title in Scotland, and never signed Mo Johnston. That said, the same men and women have put on their blue tops, bought their new scarves (30 percent off at Sports Direct, thanks Mr. Ashley), and gone to Ibrox.

Officially, I laugh and point and enjoy the jelly and ice cream I’ve been eating continuously for the last four years.

Unofficially, I sympathize. I was enraged on behalf of the fans of Wimbledon when their club was sold to Milton Keyes. I was enraged on behalf of Salzburg when their club turned into a billboard for Red Bull.

I cannot bring myself to be enraged on behalf of Rangers; I can barely manage to avoid giggling in public. I will however, sympathize with the loss of a club and the need to transfer that loyalty (2) to the Newco Rangers, just as the Dons supporters in Wimbledon have transferred their love to AFC Wimbledon.

I have much less sympathy for the men in suits who run the Scottish game, who wanted to parachute the new club into the top flight against the wishes of the majority of clubs and fans. Thanks to Turnbull Hutton for making a stand; he managed to somehow slay the Nazgul and win a Cup for Raith Rovers.

The new club started at the bottom tier (sorry, Spartans) and worked their way up. We’ve had cup ties, including one I’ve wiped from my memory, Men in Black style, and this coming weekend we’ll meet Newco Rangers in the league for the first time.

The press, the Scottish lords who run the game, and the casual fans are ready, excited, and pumped for the return of the Old Firm. We rail, justly, that the vendors who were owed money by Oldco have never been paid, that trophies that were won without following the rules still live in Ibrox trophy cases, and that somewhere El Hadji Diouf is not being punched in the face, but the powers that be don’t care.

It’s the Old Firm, don’t you know. Dust off the Billy Boys sheet music, unroll the flag of false equivalency. It’s the Old Firm.

Of course, I can’t truly complain, not if I’m being honest. The mixture of excitement, apprehension, and rage at the memory of Kyle Lafferty’s stupid face make the match coming up on Saturday different from all the other domestic matches we have. Maybe I don’t mind the hype. Maybe, if we can win 6-2, it means the World Is As It Should Be. It’s not the Old Firm, but I’m gonna gloat like it is.

1= pun intended

2= pun intended

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