WORLD CLASS!! (GERS … 1 Inverness Caley Jags … 0)

The bitterness came up as the weetabix went down this morning. An article from Natasha Woods in the Sunday Herald was largely “fair enough” but nevertheless spoiled my breakfast. Basically, her and the rest of her hack mates had been laying into McLeish on Thursday night, after the Maritimo game, and the Rangers gaffer had the timerity to turn round and stick up for himself.

In expressing his right to a bit of basic respect he’d made a wee comment to the effect that, yes, he was an anorak when it came to football knowledge but as soon as he lost that knowledge and his desire he’d give up and become a journalist. A moany-faced wee “touche” from Woods followed her reporting of this remark and she then smugly concuded her piece with the line “But unless fortunes change for him and his team he may find himself in search of alternative employment”. Nyah-nah nah-nah-nah.

Woods and her sub-editor also had a wee bit of fun with the fact Inverness Caley Thistle’s first visit to Parkhead was John Barnes’ last game in charge of Celtic … and now it was the same club’s first visit to Ibrox! If only she’d read Gers@openfootie she’d know our very own Stuart had come up with that wee analogy last week. The other portent of Old Firm managerial change which became obvious today was the Inverness strip. Last time I saw a Scottish team wearing white tops and shorts with red socks was Dick Advocaat’s last game before announcing he’d be stepping down/up from the Ibrox hot seat. The Ulster rugby union kit was sported by Flo, Reyna, Ferguson and co as they did PSG on penalties in gay Paris.

But any hope that Big Red, the Ginger Gaffer would power away all this talk of a sacking with a victory presumed that the victory would be convincing. We managed all three points today but the performance was so poor that I too was momentarily confused about who exactly the Bears were booing as everyone left the pitch at the end. Turns out it WAS the officials (wasn’t it?!) but the room for doubt says enough about the manner of this Rangers win.

I left the house with Hibs 1-0 up on the reigning champions and current league leaders. I made the Clyde tunnel in the car as Martin O’Neill’s side equalised. I handed my pound over to the wee fellah who was gonnae watch my car mister with the Hibees back in the lead. Again, as per their loss to Barcelona the other night, initial knee-jerk joy was instantaneously washed over by the state of my own team’s affairs coming back to me in tidal - tsunami tidal - form.

If we won today, even at this stage of the season, the highest we could go was third in the SPL table. Even when Celtic did eventually drop two points in the shadow of Arthur’s Seat, they managed it by scoring twice as many away goals in one match as we’ve managed all season.

I got to Fat Eck’s Seat, the teams came out and a voice behind me began baying drunkenly for people to be punched, to be knocked out. This voice turned on folk he’d apparently come to the game with; “see you - you’re getting knocked out at half time, ya cu*t”. I’d heard this guy already this season - a new smart-card holder I presumed and a man who was too mouthy to be truly hard, truly capable of carrying out threats he was too keen to make too loudly. Nevertheless, if Yours Bluely shouted out something he disagreed with then I could be next - seeing as he was sat in the seat directly behind me. Better flyly check him out just in case. When Dado Prso nodded the ball through a haze of Inverness shirts from close range for an unsightly but much wanted 17th-minute opener, I took my chance.

The guy was fu**ing HUGE. We’re talking Bouncer Of The Year stuff. Far from being the pissed-up old mouthpiece I’d envisioned, he was one seriously large - I mean “the guy who kills Jean Claude Van Damme’s brother in Kickboxer” large - granite and gristle tree-trunk of muscle. Long leather jacket, shaved napper, dripping in cheap jewllery. More bang-bang than bling-bling. If those hands hadn’t held a sawn-off shotgun at some poimt then no-one has. I bet this guy and his two equally hard but not quite as monstrous mates will be parked in my lug-hole for the rest of this season.

And then someone somewhere kept farting. For the ENTIRE match - absolute bowfers. Totally honkin and, while there are a serious number of fat Ragers fans in the world, I’m the guy in my part of the Govan Rear who would be the first pick of any potential- cheese-breaker line-up. My Uncle - who has a season for the Govan Front decide that today of all days he’d let someone else from the bus have his smart card while he sat up the Govan Rear. He comes over to talk to me at half-time, JUST AS THE MYSTERY GUFF-MEISTER LETS ONE OFF. My uncle thinks it’s me, I know he’s thinking it’s me … “wow - that wee fellah can certainly keep that ball up, eh?! EH!!!”.

I got soaked on the way back to the car. Radio Scotland had stopped the football covergae and gone into a documentary on Patsy Cline by the time I got back to my car. Just as I was deciding whether to listen to the Chelsea-Spurs game on Five Live or find out just why exactly Patsy found it so hard to follow up “walking after Midnight” with another Number One smash, as I put he blowers on full power to dry myself oot, I found my own street was parked out - not a single space anywhere. Had to park miles from my hoose. Got soaked again. I would have been as well fu**ing walking to the game and back. What a CRAP day - THANK GOD FOR THE HALF-TIME ENTERTAINMENT!

The match officials, in fairness, were battling it out with the wee pink-shirted ball-juggler for most novel entertainers of the day. Stefan Kos punches the ball over the bar - goal-kick to Rangers. Paolo Vanoli kicks the ball into touch - throw-in to Rangers. but EVERY SINGLE TIME RANGERS PASSED THE BALL TO A STRIKER - OFFSIDE RANGERS!! The one or two times when we were actually offside - PLAY-ON, RANGERS!!!

I mean it was seriously fu**ing hilarious. I’ve never seen such an inept display of assistant refereeing as the guy who today “ran” the Main Stand line in the first half and the Govan in the second. The ref quickly became entangled in this web of farce and every corner, foul or shy saw a cartoon of misundertanding and fear between the men in black. One would look to the other as if to say “you flag it and I’ll back ye up with a point of my hand” “Naw, I’m flagging nothing - you point what way yer giving it and then I’ll get the flag up”. The resultant flurry of strange semaphore signalled that refs and linesman procrastinate as much as any other official in any other walk of life.

Inbetween times, the ball seemed to be thwacking punters in the East Enclosure with merciless regularity. Even when a clearance ended up in the middle tier of the main stand, the Bear who attempted to throw it back onto the pitch only succeeded in dropping a doodle bug of leather right onto the nappers of the exact same section of the enclosure. AND they all got soaked as the rain came pi**ing down on their insufficently sheltered part of the stadium with increasing ferocity.

Not long after Dado put us in the lead, Maurice Ross headed one off his own bar . And I mean from about ten-fifteen yards out, with all sorts of space around him. Rangers were made to shoot towards the Copland in the first half so perhaps Mozza got a bit confused - or maybe he wants rid of McLeish as badly as more and more Rangers fans want rid of him. Had the ball come down on the other side of the line then maybe he’d have had his wish.

How did Mladenovic injure himself? The reason I ask is because I can’t help thinking he might just have wanted out of it. Hughes was an improvement but not to any marked extent. Novo - the guy who tries like no other player on any pitch - was taken off on 61 minutes because, well, he kept getting into good positions but failing to produce a goal. After that, Inverness didn’t have to worry about us scoring. Arveladze’s influenece was negligble in EVERY aspect but at least he wasn’t putting himself in danger of missing a good chance, eh Alex!

Klos made a couple of errors in coming out for balls today. Stefan Klos is starting to make errors. Stefan Klos.

We were hanging on for a lot of the second half. Hanging on for a 1-goal win over a team new to the SPL, a club still relatively new to the world. The visitors, who had a man sent off in the dying minutes, weren’t just plucky they were damned unlucky at times. Nevertheless, we can’t forget the massive line of thread stretching at chest height across the half-way line which connected to that assistant ref’s flag. Every time a Rangers forward moved towards the Caley half they tensed the thread and up went the flag. A few more one-two’s round the back of the Caley defence would have seen so much flag-waving that the entire squadron of US Air Force fighters lost over the Bermuda Triangle in the 1940s seemed destined to be landing on the Ibrox pitch at any second.

At least that would have been interesting, mind. The play today was decidely boring. What stimulates me now, whether I like it or not, is the knowledge that by the end of this month Rangers will either improve or be in the market for a new manager. I felt dirty and sleazy last night, watching Mathc of The Day and thinking - nay FANTASIZING - “Sam Allerdyce - if we met his wage demands, maybe the lure of guaranteed European competition would tempt him to …”

We have two away games now. So that’s two chances, in two different competitions, to break our scoring duck on Scottish gounds which aren’t situated in Govan. It’s two chances for Novo to get a goal and let us see if there is a deluge apres that seminal moment. When we’re next back at The Brox, it’ll be in a third competition, one which offers us the chance of the most money and prestige. If we play like we did today then an unknown Portugese team will knock us out the UEFA cup and even comfortable victories over Aberdeen in the CIS Cup and Dundee in the SPL will count for nowt. Alex will be gone. Although, if I’m wrong about those boos and right about this performance, maybe Murray won’t wait to lose one, two or three more games.

Jeezus - Natasha Woods was right!