Glenn Gibbons: Hypocrisy rules as McCann and Murray swap places

Published on Friday 30 October 2009 22:20

IF NOTHING else, events at the Old Firm over the past 15 years confirm that few sideshows are more bizarre – or captivating – than the sight of football chroniclers scurrying to distance themselves from past mistakes.

This is an exercise that invariably has no place for contrition, an admission of guilt or even a semblance of acknowledgement of previous misjudgements, but it does accommodate a shipload of hypocrisy.

When revisionism sets in, those who, like David Murray at Rangers, were once exalted, had better be prepared for an unaccustomed rough ride. For those who have been routinely vilified – in this case Fergus McCann at Celtic – the reappraisal is, almost without exception, made too late.

In the years following the little Scots-Canadian's rescue of the Parkhead club on the day it was due to be declared bankrupt in 1994, nobody was more consistently castigated by a media whose agenda was certainly not shaped by a proper scrutiny of McCann's work. It was, instead, in most cases inspired by the Iago-like whispered lies of former hangers-on who had been slighted by McCann's decision to jettison them on the perfectly sound premise that they had nothing to offer.

This media-led campaign against the Celtic managing director was so appallingly effective that the club's own supporters jeered him as he unfurled the league championship flag – Celtic's first in ten years and the one that denied Rangers a record tenth on the bounce – in 1998.

The derision was widespread and profound, despite the evidence of McCann's work: a colossal new stadium taking shape, improvements in the team's fortunes and a staggering increase in season ticket sales and in the club's annual turnover, making them the perfect business model in the eyes of properly-qualified analysts.

By the time of the tenth anniversary of McCann's accession – five years after his departure – in 2004, many of those reporters, readily abetted by sports editors, who had crucified him during his tenure were, quite shamelessly, proclaiming him the founding father of the modern Celtic, a visionary to whom a statue should be erected and after whom Celtic Park should be re-named.

In one or two quarters, however, there remains a residual resentment, marked by a refusal to recognise McCann's achievements. Indeed, on Tuesday of this week we were told by one newspaper that it was Brian Dempsey who had saved Celtic. By the following day, another had informed us that David Low had actually formulated the business plan that took the club out of the abyss. Fergus must be very grateful.

Now, in the last few months, it has been possible to detect a subtle shift in the media's treatment of Murray at Ibrox.

While he has avoided outright hostility from his 'friends' in the business, it has become clear that he is no longer regarded as infallible, a man editors and their minions believed should be humoured and accommodated.

Instead, the conclusive evidence of his reckless fiscal policies have clearly taken Rangers into the dark place vacated by Celtic 15 years ago and there is now, inevitably, a penalty to be paid. It seems obvious, however, that Murray's previous influence on a scandalously compliant media has been so strong that, so far, he has been given a relatively easy time. His severest critics are to be found on forums among the club's supporters.

Perhaps, as the true extent of Rangers' problems unfold – and deepen the longer they go without a buyer – the former chairman will be subjected to the kind of institutional opprobrium McCann had to endure for work that, ultimately, brought his club unprecedented prosperity. Not that Murray should be especially discomforted by the unusual experience of being publicly harangued. With his main business, Murray International Holdings, having declared liabilities of 760 million, Rangers are probably the least of his worries. This tendency among football commentators to present personalities in a misleading light extends in the present circumstances to the Rangers manager, Walter Smith.

One of the most puzzling aspects of the recent happenings at Ibrox has been the readiness of several media outlets to portray Smith as the kind of victim whose plight could catch the attention of Amnesty.

It is a picture in need of serious re-working. Smith himself would bridle at the idea of his having been unfairly treated by Rangers, an institution whose willingness to pay him handsomely for his services over the ten years of two terms has helped – along with notable success in his businesses outside football – make him sufficiently wealthy to be impervious to hardship.

At the moment, the manager certainly has more money than his club.

Smith re-affirmed his personal welfare last week, when I asked if he was concerned that his employers would ask him to take a pay cut when his contract expires in January.

"As I think I've said before," he replied, with a knowing smile, "I don't have any concerns".

He would agree without hesitation that Rangers owe him nothing.

The other bewildering element of Rangers' headline-friendly plight is the role to be played by Dave King, the South African entrepreneur.

King has already been nominated by a number of papers the only man in the world with the money and the desire (he is said to be a lifelong fan) to buy the club.

Curiously, one of the pieces which proclaimed him the likeliest new owner also reminded us that he was facing 322 charges of criminal fraud and that his passport had been impounded by the South African authorities.

Quite apart from any possible "fit and proper person test", Dave would appear to have a serious problem with actually getting here.