Don’t it always seem to go . . . That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.
As Craig Thomson brought an end to the 2014/2015 season those immortal words of Joni Mitchell rang true. However, at the sound of Thomson’s full-time whistle it was still the feel good tune of Twist and Shout ingrained in this writer’s head as a wonderful season of Scottish football reached its climax in a madcap way that was only suitable.
It wasn’t until later when the realisation the season had actually reached its conclusion that Mitchell’s tune took on greater significance. It’s like that TV show you became addicted to, working your way through countless seasons and hundreds of episodes; the (concerning) relationships with the characters you have become attached to – whether in love or hate – have ceased to exist and you return to a semblance of normality. You feel as though you have achieved something meaningful – you really haven’t – and you yearn for more. More George Costanza, more Toby Ziegler, more Ross Geller. Much more Sloan Sabbith.
But in this case it is more Miguel Pallardo, more Jonny Hayes, more Stefan Johansen, more Radoslaw Cierzniak and much more of the guy who brought a red card to Fir Park.
The final weekend of the Scottish football and the build up encapsulated what has been an entertaining year. One which has provoked intrigue and embarrassment, great goals and games, one baffling statement and one hundred moments of defensive incompetence.
It wouldn’t be Scottish football without fans, the media and club officials losing their collective rag over off field pettiness, from Inverness Caledonian Thistle’s refusal to send John Hughes and Graham Shinnie to the pre-Cup final press briefing to Motherwell and Rangers arguing over tickets. But once again, as it always seems to do, it was left to the actual on field action to provide the necessary respite. And boy did it deliver . . . and then some.
On Saturday at Hampden Park there was no sign of the Old Firm (no doubt much to the chagrin of the Herald), nor either Edinburgh club or Aberdeen or Dundee United. The Championship’s Falkirk and the third best team in the country Inverness were an unlikely pairing as crowds many times over their respective average attendances descended on Mount Florida along with thousands of neutrals giving the final a friendly and unique sensation, especially when the underdogs weren’t the neutrals favoured choice to triumph (going by the trusty gauge that is Twitter).
If the first half was played in the English Premier League Martin Tyler would have labelled it ‘intriguing’, ‘tense’, ‘a real tactical battle’. In reality it was pretty tame, bordering on dull. Although in comparison to Andrew Shinnie’s Sportscene appearance it was a drunken, naked roller coaster ride full of emotion.
Falkirk played with intensity in the opening stages while Inverness took risks until the game settled down and the Bairns retreated to the reactive tactics which served them so well against Hibs. Despite Falkirk’s reluctance to commit men forward Inverness were finding the runs of Marley Watkins behind the defence as he reprised his nuisance-role against Celtic in the semi-final. He was met by a worthy adversary in Peter Grant but won the battle notching the opening goal.
The second half was more like the final the neutrals wanted. Entertainment, excitement, nerves and mistakes. ICT failed to gain control early on allowing Falkirk to build momentum. And the game seemed to swing drastically in their favour as the villainous-looking Carl Tremarco channelled his inner Djimi Traore, appearing to nutmeg and back heel the ball in one move before seeing red for denying Blair Alston a goalscoring opportunity. Grant headed in the equaliser as the game entered its final stages, Falkirk increasing their dominance with the introduction of Botti Biabi for the perennially ineffectual David Smith.
But football is a platform for unlikely heroes to emerge and this hero wasn’t on the pitch when the goal was scored. Despite being down to 10 men John Hughes kept two up front, while moving James Vincent to right back. And it was Vincent who displayed the bravery of Hughes and the quality he has instilled in his team.
‘Taking no risks is the riskiest thing of all. So, in order to avoid risks, I will take risks‘, is a favoured line of Spanish coach Juan Manuel Lillo. Vincent sprang from his new right back role to support the indefatigable Watkins whose shot was weakly saved by Jamie MacDonald presenting the risk taker with the glory.
For the few thousand hardcore Inverness fans it will have been an indescribable feeling. For years they will have had to suffer the nauseating sight of fellow Invernesians clad in Rangers and Celtic replica kits, sitting in Highland pubs sneering at those who choose the ICT option. But they can take pride in knowing those who sneered won’t ever experience THAT feeling. Fabio Capello once said a Scudetto in Rome is worth 10 in Turin or Milan. That ratio can only be magnified when it comes to the Scottish Cup and Inverness and Glasgow.
A legitimate argument can be made regarding the Scottish Cup final as the denouement of the season. However, if these Premiership play-offs continue providing and provoking such excitement and talking points as they have done in the last two seasons it will have to get used to its place as a mere, albeit important, pre-cursor.
Motherwell came into Sunday’s showdown with Rangers with the comfort of a two goal lead thanks to the wonderful execution of Ian Baraclough’s first-leg game plan. The pace and incisiveness of Lionel Ainsworth and Marvin Johnson exploited the space either side of the Ibrox centre halves.
Similar to the cup final the first half was a relatively poor affair. Motherwell were content to make sure Rangers found space hard to come by in the final third, while Rangers were reluctant to push their full-backs forward, exposing centre backs Marius Zaliukas and Lee McCulloch.
But that wasn’t to say the first half wasn’t memorable, just that those moments came on the periphery of the match. First we had the ‘Well fan who obviously took inspiration from the season-ticket brandishing Hibs fan by bringing a red card to the game and flashing it when Andy Murdoch careered through Stevie Hammell. The fan however loses points for not actually dressing as a referee. Arguably better was still to come as McCulloch went across to the rambunctious Motherwell Bois to fetch the ball only to be struck in the coupon then the behind by a fan’s flag. An excitable pre-pubescent teen you may think. Wrong. A gentleman of advancing years with his equally riled wife. He then had the temerity to blame McCulloch and have a go at a steward.
The fun on the field started in the second half. Rangers knew they would have to rid themselves of any caution. Seven minutes after the restart they rid themselves of any chance of promotion in circumstances that can only be described as farcical. Johnson left Foster floundering like an ageing pensioner who has just had their bag snatched by a young whipper-snapper, haring away before his shot was deflected high into the air.
And high into the air it went but it was simple bread and butter for a goalkeeper. Make a ‘W’ with the hands, knee up to protect from any aggressive opponents, clutch and hoof it forward to Kenny Miller and Kris Boyd. NOT what Cammy Bell proceeded to do. What Bell proceeded to do was his best impersonation of a young lad on his first lads’ holiday in some Mediterranean dive, trying to impress a young female on the arcade boxing machine. In a drunken stupor he swings, grazes the ball and knocks the girl out as his legs give way. Only this was way more embarrassing.
From then on it was a case of damage limitation for Rangers. But as goals two and three went in (now 6 (SIX) – 1 on aggregate) and the full-time whistle finalised a chaotic season at Ibrox the only damage that was done was to Lee Erwin’s face . . . and back.
One of the minor storylines of the Rangers season has been that of Bilel Mohsni and his combustible personality. All season had been leading up to one major meltdown. One major explosion. Erwin claimed to simply want to shake his hand before pushing the Moroccan in the back. From there it literally kicked off. Bodies piled in, punches were thrown, hair was probably pulled.
Words used to describe the aftermath in the media ranged from ‘ugly’ and ‘disgraceful’ as they claimed it overshadowed Motherwell’s win. Nonsense. It simply added to another crazy weekend in this season’s Scottish football.
A season which began with three of the country’s biggest clubs in the second tier and Scottish clubs, bar one, exiting European action before the first leaf had fallen from the trees, ended with Inverness Caledonian Thistle becoming the second team in as many years to win the Scottish Cup for the first time in their history and Motherwell trouncing Rangers 6-1 over two legs amongst The Beatles, smoke bombs, Keith and Police on horses.
Roll on season 2015/2016. I for one am ready to twist again.
WRITTEN BY JOEL SKED
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