Aitken-like backbone issadly lacking at Old Firm

In THE company of Davie Provan, the former Celtic and Scotland winger, on the eve of an international against San Marino in 1991, the dinner-table conversation in a Rimini restaurant turned, not unnaturally, to the merits of contemporary players.

“If I were a manager,” said Provan, who had, on his retirement four years earlier, quickly established himself as a fluent and very appealing broadcaster, “the first name on my team sheet would be Roy Aitken.”

This was a declaration that might have made even big Roy’s friends bridle. While his enthusiasm and will remained undimmed throughout a professional career that began with inclusion in the Celtic first team at the age of 16, there had always been debate over his value, his recognition diluted in many quarters by an on-field exuberance and aggressiveness that could often leave his team disarrayed and vulnerable to the counter-attack. The more forthright of his critics would argue that, in these circumstances, he could be a liability.

Provan rejected the proposed flaws: “If you had ever sat in a dressing-room before a match – or at half-time when you were struggling – and listened to him, you would understand how he could lift a team. He would also do it on the pitch. I know all about his supposed limitations but, believe me, they are overcome by the way he influences those around him. Remember our Scottish Cup win in ‘85, when we looked down and out against Dundee United, but won it in the last 15 minutes? That was down to Roy. He lifted us over the line.”

Provan was, in effect, corroborating the testimony given by Alex Ferguson a few years earlier, another of those instances when even the most independent of thought among the game’s chroniclers concede that there are occasions when the word of an experienced (and undeniably authoritative) witness has to be accepted.

Ferguson’s rumination stemmed from his frequently-voiced claim that even the greatest of managers will not succeed without luck. He was adamant that he had it in abundance when he became manager of Aberdeen.

“I saw very quickly that Pittodrie already had at least half-a-dozen players who were naturally endowed with that hardness of spirit, that drive and ambition you strive to put into your teams. Some players you have to work on but, at Aberdeen, the likes of Alex McLeish, Willie Miller, Stuart Kennedy, John McMaster and, of course, the two great signings made by Billy McNeill, Gordon Strachan and Steve Archibald, already had it. I was very lucky to have that base on which to work and it’s no surprise that we achieved so much.”

These recollections danced around in the mind as a consequence of watching Neil Lennon suffer on the sidelines at Ibrox last Sunday, the present Celtic manager’s ordeal doubtless aggravated by the evidence that his team’s most serious handicap was not a lack of ability (although it was hardly plentiful), but a total absence of backbone. This was, in every way, a collective imperfection, since Lennon seems not to have at his command even one Aitken-like figure, or a single example of the kind of character that distinguished John Greig’s playing career at Ibrox.

It was noticeable that Greig a few years ago was not voted the greatest Rangers player, but the greatest Ranger, a tribute to his inspiration rather than his talent.

For Lennon, the wounds would be salted by the memory of his own playing days with Celtic under Martin O’Neill.

In the technical area beside him were two prime examples, Alan Thompson and Johann Mjallby, of the immovable conviction that pervaded Celtic Park at the start of the century. Nowhere in the club now is there any sign of a figure who could utter Chris Sutton’s opening remark on his arrival in 2000 – “the first thing we have to do is put Rangers in their place” – without sounding ridiculous. Nor should those Rangers supporters who crowed for three days after their team’s 4-2 victory believe for an instant that Ally McCoist is blessed with an array of hard cases. There have been too many examples of capitulation in Europe already to allow any other conclusion than Rangers, too, are ill-equipped to be anything other than local heroes.

Some hasty and easily-impressed media observers, apparently forgetful of the ignominies suffered at the hands of Malmo and Maribor just a few weeks earlier, rushed to acclaim Rangers as some kind of giants, with the SPL championship already all but assured. This misplaced homage was exposed as counterfeit by the Ibrox side’s defeat at Falkirk on Wednesday, a set-back that revealed their own proneness to mediocrity.

The serious implications for both Lennon and McCoist (and probably, in the present economic climate, more significantly for the latter) of these obvious blemishes is that any notional sales that could yield much-coveted revenue will be substantially more difficult to complete.

Despite the claims made for the Glasgow clubs by their followers, winning a championship or a cup in Scotland, especially as a member of the Old Firm, cuts no ice among such wealthy prospective shoppers as the leading clubs in the Premier League.

Steve Davis, for example, described in one paper as “Rangers’ inspirational captain” in the victory over Celtic, seems to be conspicuously less than inspirational when he crosses a border – any border. He will also be remembered, if at all, in England as a Fulham reserve when he joined Rangers.

As for Celtic, it is as well that their financial welfare in the immediate future is not dependent on retail. The merchandise on offer these days is of a quality that wouldn’t survive a second wash.