John Callan (@JohnLCallan)
I’m not going to sit here and tell you you’ve woken up in a very different world this week from last, where everything is possible and nothing is certain, just because Aberdeen grabbed their first win over Celtic since people started considering them to be genuine title challengers. If Aberdeen are anywhere near the summit next Spring however, one very brief moment from Saturday will be cited as the time that became an altogether more realistic possibility.
Had Aberdeen gone on to secure a 1-1 draw following Jonny Hayes’ red card, it would have been a creditable result which the majority of Dons fans would have been satisfied with. But questions would have still remained, not to mention a sizeable mental block between them and any title ambitions, over whether they could actually beat the champions when it matters.
That’s why Paul Quinn’s bundled winner from a free-kick both won and delivered by the increasingly excellent Niall McGinn was so significant. Aside from bringing about a tremendous moment of elation, it has simultaneously confirmed just how much of a threat this Aberdeen side could become. If even Pittodrie can produce a noisy and vaguely intimidating atmosphere, as it did on Saturday, then the notion that the Dons might just have the strongest team in the country maybe isn’t too remote.
Craig Anderson (@craig_killie)
One of my favourite things about Scottish football is that, despite the best efforts of the SFA’s compliance officer, it remains a relatively unsanitised environment where players and coaches still act like human beings rather than clean cut media trained PR products. Think back to Lee Erwin’s tremendous interview after the relegation play-off at Fir Park, to Ian Black’s self-deprecating “I’ll paint this place maroon” t-shirt, to Ian Murray’s backfiring 7-0 hairdo and to the existence of Kenny Shiels. These guys behaved in the exact manner you would have expected from a random fan off the street, and that allowed their supporters to identify with them. This weekend, Shay Logan added his name to the list with some sensational trolling of the travelling Celtic support at Pittodrie.
Celtic are a club with a confused identity. At Pittodrie on Saturday they nobly displayed a banner welcoming refugees to Scotland, but you’d struggle to find condemnation of goalscorer Leigh Griffiths in the week that the striker pled guilty to offensive behaviour after calling Rudi Skacel a refugee. Their supporters present an image of being anti-fascist, anti-racist and anti-anything else bad, yet Logan has been booed relentlessly by their support ever since he spoke out about being a victim of racial abuse at the hands of a Celtic player. This hypocrisy, is of course, by no means restricted to Celtic – the majority of supporters across Scotland tend to wear rose-tinted spectacles when it comes to their own club. Nonetheless, the treatment of Logan on Saturday was unfair, and therefore my moment of the weekend was the Aberdeen full-back getting it right up the booing hordes.
With Aberdeen trailing at half-time, the obituaries for the title race were already being written, and the “Same old Aberdeen” stories were being prepared. Logan, yet again, was bearing the brunt of the Celtic taunts as the champions looked to be moving back to the top of the table. But this is a different Aberdeen side, one which had the confidence, the bottle and the determination to fight back, even in adversity after being reduced to 10 men. And perhaps crucially, it is also a very different Celtic side, with a shambolic defence, a woefully out of form Scott Brown in midfield and a lack of genuine threat in the wide areas. Inspired by an excellent second half performance from Logan (albeit up against the invisible Gary Mackay-Steven and the woeful Tyler Blackett), the Dons charged back into the match courtesy of a Adam Rooney penalty, then grabbed a victory thanks to Quinn’s late strike.
Then came my moment of the weekend. With the Dons attempting to see out the game, Logan bought a foul on the touchline, right in front of the away support. As he lay on the deck, copping all sort of abuse from foaming-at-the-mouth supporters, he simply looked up and blew them a few kisses. Then, like a heavyweight champion with a swift one-two combo, Logan got to his feet and delivered a passionate chest thump towards those supporters followed by another set of kisses. I would have loved to have seen the camera pan towards those fans to see the purple spittle-flecked faces and perhaps even a few tears and snotters. It might be small and petty, but then again, I’m small and petty and I absolutely loved it.
Kris Jack (@krisjack85)
As the token Motherwell fan contributor to the Terrace, its been a tough few weeks trying to find a positive MFC moment to pick as my highlight of the weekend’s football. However, when Louis Moult tapped in his fourth goal in as many games for the Steelmen in injury time on Saturday, it did give me reason to both smile and be mortified at the same time.
Having become accustomed to press boxes and gantrys over the last few years, I feel I have done fairly well in keeping my shit together when Motherwell are involved, so as to come across as professional as possible. From memory, James McFadden’s first goal back in Claret and Amber in a 4-1 win over Hibs at Fir Park, and Henrik Ojamaa being bundled over in the box at Parkhead right in front of the ref without a penalty being given are the only times I have made a tit of myself in front of my would-be-peers to the point where I’ve drawn daggers and dismissive looks from the assembled press-packers.
Now far removed from the Scottish Premiership, I’m plying my trade as a reporter on the DanskeBank Premiership here in Northern Ireland. On Saturday I was deployed to The Oval in East Belfast as Glentoran hosted Portadown, which had a cracking first half and a dire second half. With my match report pretty much written, I was scrolling Twitter, expecting to see that the ‘Baraclough Out’ brigade were to be once again justified in their opinion.
Instead, I saw that Louis Moult had side footed past Scott Fox in the 91st minute, to which I let out an unexpectedly audible “You f***ing dancer!” at exactly the same time that Portadown’s Keith O’Hara was shown a red card for a last man challenge. Still unable to tell “which teams are which” over here, I could feel all press eyes on me for seemingly celebrating the sending off in such an enthusiastic manner. I quickly explained the Louis Moult goal, even flashing my iPad at them as proof, to quell any judgement on my leanings.
I didn’t think much of it until I was snubbed by another journo when I asked him where I’d get a hold of the Ports gaffer for a post-match chat, meaning I didn’t get the quotes I needed for my piece. So cheers Louis, your goal brightened my weekend and made an arse of me at the same time.
Craig Fowler (@craigfowler86)
The punch heard round the world.
Or was it a closed fist flick? Anyway, my favourite moment this weekend came on Friday night. At the end of a frightfully dull (neutral’s perspective) and incredibly frustrating (Hearts’ perspective) match, Juwon Oshiwana decided to liven everything up and really give us something to talk. Why the Nigerian was so enraged we’ll probably never find out. Maybe it was a disagreement over sandwich filling now that’s it’s certain Hearts are not going to challenge for a title and Oshiwana might be having a few picnics after all. Who knows?
What we know for certain is that he’s a grade A nutter. I kinda suspected this anyway having observed some eccentric moments from him during his relatively brief time in Gorgie – there’s a reason the boys on We Have No Cares say that he tried to ‘Cruyff turn’ the linesman – but it’s always nice to have that feeling confirmed.
Though, admittedly, the Hearts fan in me will never rest fully whenever he’s in a game – a feeling I’d hoped had left town with Marius Zaliukas – the Scottish football fanatic is positively giddy at the prospect of what he’ll do next. You know, once he serves his suspension and gets into Robbie Neilson’s good books again.
Craig Cairns (@craigcairns001)
After the berating we got for our Partick Thistle preview last month, I finally managed to make it along to Firhill on Saturday to see them at home in the flesh. After a struggle to get going this season, Robbie Muirhead and Mustapha Dumbuya were brought to the club and paired on the right hand side for their debuts. Muirhead was a constant threat, darting forward to join Kris Doolan up front when his team had the ball, while Dumbuya restored some of the attacking thrust from right-back sorely lacking since the departure of Stephen O’Donnell.
Though it wasn’t any of these individual performances that inspired the choice for my moment of the weekend. Nor was it the fact that Thistle rattled the bar three times then inevitably lost a goal at the other end. Or the dumpling Dundee supporter that stood up during the eighth minute to applaud the passing of Ralph Milne in some inverse tribute. I almost ruptured my cringe pipes watching a man, on the wrong side of middle-aged, in baggy jeans and trainers, a raincoat, baseball cap and with a huge golden hoop in his ear, stood there for a grinding twenty seconds, until he realised no one else was going to join in and sat down.
No, that was all trumped by my trip to the toilet in the away end. I slid in sick on the way there then stood in a very small queue while we all pissed, what felt like, one at a time in this walled cupboard of a urinal. Spillages of piss on the floor, trying not to brush up against the next guy’s tadger as you make your exit, not being sure whether to wash your hands in the sink outside the urinal – yes, outside because there isn’t even room for a sink in there! – or to go home right away and bleach them. It is far and away the worst toilet facilities I’ve ever used and I’ve been to Morocco. And Stark’s Park.
Tony Anderdung (@tonyterrace)
Some moments don’t need an introduction.
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