RENAISSANCE RANGERS REAP ROVERS RETURN (Fiorentina … 0 GERS … 0, Gers win 4-2 on penalties! We’re IN THE FU**ING UEFA CUP FINAL!!!)

Bet Lynch.

Albert Tatlock.

Ken and Deirdre.

The family Duckworth.

Les Battersby and BETTY’S STEAMING HOTPOT!!!!

The Bears are going across to the Rovers for a pint, duck, and no-one - NO ONE IN ALL OF EUROPE - has been able to stop us!!

From Athens to Bremen. From Lisbon to Florence. From Glasgow to Manchester. This, chuck, is the greatest night of our fucking lives.

If I could write like Rangers can defend then - maybe then - I could explain what we’re all feeling.

If I could eulogise the way Nacho Novo believes then - maybe then - I could sum up what this means to us.

If I could reach through your PC screens and give you all a massive hug in the same way Rangers tonight reached through our TV screens and gave us all a massive heart, ego and groin massage then perhaps, perhaps I could get within the length of the M6 of verbalising the Red, White and BLUE wave of emotion sweeping all over World Beardom into the wee small hours of Firday 2nd May 2008.

Christ - If I could just stop welling up every five minutes then maybe I could type a coherent sentence and GIVE IT SOME FOR THE TEDDY BEARS!!

Coz they certainly gave it some for us. Oh man. Do we have the best defence in the history of European competition or what??!! If I can stop texting my family, mates, colleagues and their mates and their mates’ mates’ mates - and his mum’s neighbour’s dog - for just one second, I could actually go and have a look at the stats and work out if any other side has reached a European final by conceding just TWO goals in that competition. Probably, yes, but did those other famous defences consist of a 38-year-old with a groin strain, a guy in his first season who can hardly speak the native tongue, a reserve goalie who’s been here for just four months and was playing only his second European match tonight, and two centre-halves at full back - one a Bosnian Serb living in Glasgow; the other a young boy who cannae even take a shy properly?? I mean, for fuck’s sake - if EVER there was a testimony to the fact WALTER SMITH is THE SUPREME ARCHITECT then it’s the fact this collection of pros tonight out-Italianed the Italians, in Italy.

Our uber-catenaccio defence, of course, consists of more than tonight’s players. Allan McGregor is the man who kept clean sheets and performed various miracles in the previous rounds and Christian Dailly and Steven Whittaker have stepped into our continental back-line when required. But I have been seriously and finally disabused of one long-held assumption this evening: I have suspected for months that our midfield is the true heart-beat of our current team - and that Barry Ferguson, our club captain, is the very fulcrum of all we’ve achieved thus far in 2007/2008. Basically, I thought our defence - great as it is - looked utterly brilliant as a direct result of what was going on in front of it. No more. I think that no more. If the tirade we endured in Bremen wasn’t enough to illuminate me, the vertable shit-storm of Italiante pressure we weathered in Tuscany this famous night finally knocked the news into my noggin: It isn’t just our defending which is great - it’s our DEFENCE which is GOD-LIKE!

And, yes, Carlos Cuellar is our man of the season - maybe our one-season man of all time.

We are a team of indefatigable unity. We are a unit of the densest cohesiveness. We are a coherence of immutability. This Rangers team is SOLID in a way I always dreamed we coudl be and the pish we’re being forced to listen to about “the sum of the parts” and “lacking individual technical skills” is particularly irrelevant because we ain’t talking about singles tennis or a bit of snooker. We’re talking about a TEAM game and, for me, Rangers in 2007/2008 have shown what belief in the team and adherence to the collective can achieve. It can achieve history.

But I now know beyond all doubt that the team unifies around our back line. When you give the ball to a Bundesliga team for 90 minutes and only concede once, that’s a hint that our defence is our strongest area. When you give the ball to a SERIE A team for THREE AND A HALF HOURS and then GIVE THEM A START IN THE PENALTY SHOOT OUT, and still win with no goals conceded, then the evidence is overpowering.

I weep when I think of this Rangers defence.

Consigliere Genco, on his death bed, in the director’s cut of Godafther, asks Don Corelone if he can have a word with the devil, maybe pull a few strings with God and get into heaven. The old man’s Don asks him not to blaspheme but it is a sign of how powerful Vito Corleone has become. What Francis Ford Coppola doesn’t show you is the next few frames of footage, where Marlon Brando whispers to the old man, “I tried to get you into heaven, mate, but Cuellar and Weir have put the shutters up - no-one’s getting past tonight.” At that point Genco gives up and dies.

Steven Whittaker coming back with Mutu to almost our goal-line, forcing the much-feared, much-lauded Romanian strker to miss a point-blank header. Big Christian Vieri sitting on the ball instead of tapping it in, simply because we were swarming round him like men posessed. Fiorentina resorting to endless shots from the edge of the box and beyond. This wasn’t JUST as sustained as Werder’s pressure in Germany but it was more penettrative. I asked Rangers to keep it tight for the first tewnty minutes. They kept it even tighter for the next 100 minutes too.

To describe the tension is impossible. You either understood it or you didn’t. You are either a Bluenose or you aren’t. If you watched that game and wanted Rangers to win with every part of your being then you have just endured the perfect mix of heaven and hell. Continual relief from continual torture. And as it got into the 80s we began to make moves on grabbing a killer away goal - it was as though Rangers knew we couldn’t suirvive the strains of extra time. We didn’t get that goal and then we did survive the strains of extra-time - all of us except Big Cousin. He seemed up for it when he came on - even if it s just because he wants a move to a big league - he felt he was harshly dealt with by the ref for any attempt to hold off an opponent and got booked because, basically, he was suckered by a more experienced opponent.

But then Danny was pushed from side to side by a couple of Florentine scumbags who knew he was ready to explode. Why he didn’t make it worth his while and actually broke the guy’s face is beyond me but he was duped into a pathetic head-brush and down went one of the hardest guys on the pitch as if felled by a shotgun unloading in his tonsils. Our man’s fault. Stupid. Cousin is out of the final but - really - did you let that worry you about tonight’s result, when the red was flashed? Florence was all about the defence by this point. Nacho had that chance arriving on his thigh instead of his toe. Whitts had that curling shot at the end of nornmal time. Prior to that, Steve couldn’t get his balance for a flick past Frey. But, those brief flickers apart, we were all about the defence tonight. We were all about shutting the back door. Cousin’s wreckless and stupid departure with ten minutes left didn’t change that one iota.

To penalties it went and, suddenly you realised that we didn’t just have to win the shoot-out for the glory of a European final but we had to win it to keep our season intact. Had we lost to Fiorentina, lost out on the chance of the UEFA Cup final by the very last method available, we would have gone to Easter Road on Sunday in the most exhausted state of mind and body possible, having lost three big away games, late on, with a man being red-carded in each. The headlines and the suspicion would be “Rangers are cracking up”.

And then Barry - shackled, injured or just absent for the entire game - decided to try and play the captain’s part. He was a true captain to bravely take the first kick. Frey did do well to save. But the heart sinks - and then their guy slots away nae bother and you’re suddenly thinking “I wish McGregor was here - this isn’t St Johnstone at Hampden, Alexander!”. And then Whittaker slots home his third crucial pen of the season in his usual, cool-as-get-out style. And then they score again and the wee Violet prick does the auld “nae sweat” motion of brushing some imaginary dust off his imaginary lapel. And that’s when it gets personal - that’s when it becomes a war of manners - our manners versus their lack thereof. That’s when it’s good, solid, honest Scottish Rangers against the Macchiavelian, poncey latins. Even OUR Latins have succumbed to The Rangers Way and we cheer them on to avenge the Rangers way. Our Bosnian Serb slides in the coolest penalty of the lot. So cool I shit myself - thinking it’s going straight into the gaolie’s grateful palms. But no. We’ve made it 2-2 but have taken a kick more. I need something to swing this our way. I need some sort of belief I can actually help my team because a chance like this might not come around again in my lifetime.

And then I remember.

As I scour the dusty recesses of my brain for a moment of equal(ish) import, I remember 22nd May 2005, the day Motherwell scored twice to give us the SPL title. What was I doing that day? No ticket for Easter Road, no way I was watching the Celtic game on Setanta: Instead I listened to it on the radio - UPSTAIRS! Before the Fiorentina player makes his way to the penalty spot I dash up them stairs, sit on the very same chair I was sat on almost three years ago and twiddle with the same bit of rug on the floor at my feet in the same room where I first heard Scott McDonald had given us the title. I jumps up, dashes back down the stairs and gets into the living room just as Alexander palms it round the post. I watch Brahim make up a million times for his paltry Hampden shoot-out miss - with a roll down the correct side and into the corner of the net. Fuck it. I dash back upstairs. When the UEFA Cup semi is in the balance even a 22 stone man can travel! I park my arse in that chair in the spare room, I twiddle that bit of rug and I’m back in the living room as Vieri puts it over the bar.

I just sit down on the sofa as Nacho takes the ball. You know Nacho does the Historic stuff. You know Nacho’s always been destined to be a Rangers legend - from the moemnt he signed for Raith Rovers. You don’t let that fool you on a conscious level. You need to protect yourself. The referee re-spots the ball and you feel as if that is the sickest thing anyone on this planet has ever done to you in yer long, sorry life. The ITV4 commentator says something about Manchester preparing itself. You shout out ” shut it, ya fate tempting …” and explete the word “bastard” just as Nacho’s run takes him into the box … you see the wee man hit the ball with pace, passion and BELIEF and …

Jumping.

Hugging.

Collapsing onto the floor.

Kisses.

SCREAAAAAMIIIINGG!!!!

Tears,

Guffaws.

Expletives.

Head-rush.

Joy.

Pain leaving the body.

Tension needing a help out the door.

Joy.

Overwhelming fucking joy of a life-time’s passion reaching it’s highest point of fulfilment so far.

Oh, my Rangers. Our Rangers. EVERYBODY’S Rangers FC. The whole world’s gonnae know about us now. And Zenit will wear white so we can wear the home strip this time. We can wear the Red and Black socks in Manchester, as the world ses what our team and our support is all about.

Nacho Novo does destiny. He just makes a point of being historic. And this is the most amazing football moment of my life. It is for any Bluenose who doesn’t remember 1972. I’ve dreamed a long time about The Gers playing in a European final filmed in COLOUR! I’ve watched any a team of well-organised pros get some meaningless club to European final after European final. Once you get to one of those your club has meaning. We’ve always had meaning - we just needed to get to another Eruopean final to spread the word and, for once in thrrty-odd years, feel an aoccassion which came close to matching our stature.

I’ve sat at Pittodrie as Aberdeen beat us 5-1 on a cold, January Saturday. I’ve watched the Rangers captain score our opening goal and then stroll right back down the park to equalise for the opposition, who are Clydebank, in front of 10,000, in our state-of-the-art 45,000-capacity stadium. I wasn’t there but I remember Chesterfield pumping us 3-0 in the Anglo Scottish Cup, a tournament in which we were only “competing” because we’d failed to qualify for Europe. I remember watching from an area normally reserved for Pars as we went 3-0 down at First Division-bound Dunfermline in the Scottish Cup last January. There’s been times when Rangers really HAVE been in crisis and there’s been times when only our results have been in critical condition. Never, however, did I think we should be trying for anything les than European silverware. Never, however, was I that convinced we had the collective mind-set to pull it off - especially not 15 months after another nadir of domestic dissapointment.

Walter Smith is the Renaissance man and a script writer couldn’t have picked a better city for him to complete the comeback than Tuscany’s brightest jewell. Walter hasn’t just revived his own reputation over the last three years - he’s revived Rangers and Scotland’s and he’s actually revived some level of glory neither has known since Walter himself was just beginning as a pro. Walter Smith is now, undoubtedly, second only to Bill Struth in managerial achievement at Rangers. It’s time for the Copland Road stand to be re-named.

Rangers are the first Scottish club to play in the final of both the European Cup Winners Cup and the UEFA Cup. Rangers are the first Scottish club to play in FOUR European finals. If you want to push it - and Aberdeen do - we could say we’re the first to play in three DIFFERENT European finals by including the Super Cup. And we’ve just created a chance for the club to win FOUR MAJOR TROPHIES for the first time in its history.

Yet, for me, it hasn’t really sunk in yet. What we’ve just achieved in Florence has not sunk in properly - that’ll take a lot of alcohol this Friday night. And, in truth, so much of me had convinced myself it was written in the stars that some of me thinks it isn’t surprised:

In 1972 there was an all-English European final (Wolves v Spurs in the UEFA cup), in 2008 there will be an all-English European final.

In 1972 we played a Russian team in their first European final: in 2008 we play a Russian team in their first European final.

In 1971/72 we knocked out French, Portugese, Italians and Germans enroute to the final. In 2008 we gubbed Lyon in Lyon to make up for Panathinaikos not being French but, other than that …

In 1972 Bayern Munich went out in the semi-finals of the competition we won. In 1972 our captain was unabvaialable for the home leg of the semi.

Every Scottish team to have played in a UEFA cup semi has drawn the home leg first and then triumphed in the away leg.

Plus, d’ye all know we played Dynamo Moscow in an Ibrox friendly in November 1970 - ie in the season before we beat them in the Cup Winners Cup final. Who did we play in an Ibrox friendly last season? Think it began with a “z”…?

We’re the team who defends like demons and Zenit are the team which attacks like demons. But they only run through teams who want to COME OUT TO PLAY with them. We won’t. Yes, Arshavin will be back for Manchester but their top scorer - in fact the tournament’s top scorer - was tonight suspended from that final, after scoring two of the four conceded by Oliver Kahn (THAT’S FOR MICHAEL MOLS YA AULD BASTARD - HAPPY FUCKING RETIREMENT!!!) and he was booked for nothing too.

Sometimes ye think it’s just fate, don’t ye.

And THREE of the FOUR MANAGERS of this season’s European finalists are past or present Rangers employees. We could have both European trophies being won by Scottish managers this season and, even if Chelsea win the Champions League, we beat them in a pre-season friendly last July!

And Dick Advocaat was brought in to replace Walter Smith because Walter could win domestic trebles but he couldn’t win a European trophy. Well, Dick could only manage a domestic treble with us too - how sweet for Walter if he manages another domestic treble AND a European trophy at Advocaat’s expense.

The durability of this Rangers team - yet another extra time and penalties win, the third semi-final win of the season - is already legend. We’re all so glad they have now become official legends.

How sweet for David Murray. How much of a wake-up call for those who tried to hound him out of Ibrox. How much of a wake-up call is it for those who booed Rangers off the picth after our home leg against Sporting Lisbon? How much of a wake-up call for ME, thinking PLG was the only way to a European final or that Walter Smith could only bring us domestic success.

Walter, I apologise. Barry - mmmm - not yet, mate. GIve us that special performance in the final, perhaps. Or perhaps yer just running on empty, Capo. I’ll see ye in Manchester anyway.

Manchester, though? MANCHESTER??!! That’s not an “exotic foreign destination” - even if we dae take in Canal Street when we’re doon there. That’s not like our hopoed neebors five years ago, all packing in their jobs, pawning the family jewels and trailblazing their way by sea and air to Andalucia. We just need to take the afternoon off our work - and Wednesday’s half-day shutting anyway! We just kinda roll over the border and roll back. Basically, if the entire Rangers support just gets oot of bed on the other side on May 14th, we’re there - we’re in Manchester! How are the Travel Club gonnae justify “package deals” for this one? Will they throw in a packed-lunch and a word-search with yer match ticket? Will ye get a chartered flight to an M74 Service Station of your choice? Will they offer four-star accomodation at yer ain hoose, the night before and after the game…with free coach transfer to and from the stadium …

I mean, we could watch the lunch-time showing of Neighbours in our own hooses and still have plenty time tae drive doon tae the game. I’m gonnae look pretty pathetic wearing my sombrero from the front door of the hoose tae the driver’s door of my motor?! There’ll be nae captain to get yer photo taken wi in the cockpit, either - would it be too much tae ask the CityLink bus driver to rig up a wee portable set of stairs ontae the coach fae Buchanan Street, just so we can turn round half-way up the steps and get one of they group photos taken on the runway … erm, in the depot? And where abouts in Lancashire can ye buy a big toy donkey tae bring hame tae the wife??!!

Fuck it. I don’t care how I get there or how we get on against Zenit - at some point I’m doing the Coronation Street tour, and that’s final!

Listen, since I was knee-high to an Airfix Japanese infantryman (1:32 scale) I dreamed of seeing Rangers winning the European Cup and I most wanted to see us do it at WEMBLEY, coz that would let the maximum number of Bears try to get in and create a racket the like of which Britain has never known, all with Union Jacks flying. It isn’t London, it’s Manchester. It isn’t the Champs League final, it’s the UEFA Cup final yet we have twice the chance of winning as a result and I feel two million times happier tonight than I was even in those childhood daydreams. We’ll get the adult fantasies dealt with first and then, next season, Walter can get to work on sorting out our childhood wish list.

Coz he’s running out of stuff to tick off.

The 2008 UEFA Cup Final: THE RANGERS v Zenit St Petersburg.

About this entry

You’re currently reading “RENAISSANCE RANGERS REAP ROVERS RETURN (Fiorentina … 0 GERS … 0, Gers win 4-2 on penalties! We’re IN THE FU**ING UEFA CUP FINAL!!!),” an entry on FatEck.co.uk

Published:
05.02.08 / 2am
Category:
News