£5m for Craig is not pie in the sky

It wasn't all that long ago that the Meatandgreaseman was considering an offer from Cardiff City, believed to be around 350,000, for the kid who would now probably stop Halley's comet were it to come flying at him in the penalty area.

Apparently, Craig Levein and the Meatandgreaseman had a right rammy about it, but Gordon didn't fancy Cardiff in any case and has since imparted his advice to Derek Riordan. Now Hearts have upped the ante, and the uncle and the cousins, in an attempt to dissuade Gordon's suitors and keep him at Hearts.

There will be plenty conjecture over the keeper's true worth, particularly in football's current financial climate which is almost as derelict as Tynecastle's main stand [more of that later]. But let's be honest, between the posts Gordon is cooler than The Fonz in a fridge and if Gianluigi Buffon cost Juventus 32m, I'd say five mill for big Craig is a steal.

He was absent on Saturday, of course, and Steve Banks seemed to make for an able deputy as Hearts maintained Champions League ambitions atop the SPL.

The Nou Camp may yet beckon for Hearts in Europe next season, but for now they will have to make do with places like the Nou Dump, or Celtic Park to give it its official name.

Best to be careful when mentioning the phrase "Champions League" in Glasgow's east end, for it is still an obscene subject as Chick Young found out when requesting, during a pre-match interview on Saturday, that Gordon Strachan think back to his destructive initiation as Celtic manager.

"We're talking about how well we've been playing recently and you want to take me into the darkest corners of my memory bank?" came Strachan's tongue-in-cheek retort, for he is correct in shivering at any recollection of Celtic's Bratislava blootering. So we'll do it for him, because the match provided the quote of the season before a ball had been struck.

"We must not underestimate Artmedia," said Tommy Burns, Celtic coach, before the game. Biff. 5-0. Bums not so much oot the Champions League windae as plummeting relentlessly towards the ground below, where they landed with an almighty splat.

Hearts might be expected to do better if they qualify, but regardless of their intentions to renovate at Tynecastle any Champions League ties will be played elsewhere due to the insufficient dimensions of the Gorgie pitch.

UEFA Cup regulations require a minimum pitch length of 100 metres, with which Tynecastle's recently-extended surface complies, but for Champions League ties the pitch must be at least 105 metres and this is where Hearts fall short.

The Meatandgreaseman may well afford himself a wry smile. "Told you it wasn't fit for purpose." Unless they do something that involves 90 degrees but that will surely melt the grass and make the surface all dry and bumpy, not to mention confusing the players who might start shooting into the dugouts or taking a throw-in after a goal is scored.

Were Hans Eskilsson still at Tynecastle he would easily adjust the quickest to any pitch rotation given his inability to recognise where the goal was in the first place. And what of the cost? Romanov has a bank full of money, not an abyss. If Hearts continue uncovering ways to spend his money at this rate he'll be doon the social in Kaunas pleading for a crisis loan.

Maybe as part of the deal to rebrand Tynecastle the new sponsors might stand the cost, which would be a real result for Hearts. So prepare for the grand opening of the fully rotational, all-singing, all-dancing Cala Homes Tynecastle Stadium.

No? We'll just stick with the Ukio Bankas Stadium instead then.

Just not Cricket as celebrities leap onto bandwagon

CELEBRITIES have charged from the woodwork of late to reveal their supposed affection for cricket, which is clearly irrespective of England's victory in the Ashes which witnessed Hugh Grant spectating at The Oval.

The actor played a fair amount of cricket in his pre-Divine Brown days. He sucked, by all accounts, and now spends his spare time on the golf course, although he remains a fan of his national side and has also been monitoring the Super Series Test between Australia and a World XI. Another celebrity cricket fan engrossed of late is Sir Mick Jagger. On tour in America with the Hirpling Stones, Jagger has been waking in the middle of the night, putting his teeth in and switching on the hearing aid to catch matches in the Ashes and Super Series. Old folk don't sleep much anyway.

An interesting little tale has reached me concerning England's Ashes celebrations. The cricketers were taken aback by the tumultuous welcome afforded them by hundreds of thousands of supporters in Trafalgar Square during their victory parade.

Apparently, as they absorbed the adulation, Andrew Flintoff leaned in to Michael Vaughan. "God," he said. "Look at all these people. I thought we had signed for Celtic."

But unlike goings on around Parkhead, cricket portrays itself as a sophisticated sport, highlighted by the family of the late cricketing icon Sir Don Bradman opposing a plan by an Australian company to sell biscuits bearing his name.

The Bradmans have been stung into action in the past when an adult shop attempted to call itself Erotica on Bradman. Good heavens. Soon we'll have other models of discretion like John Hartson exposed for having an affair.

Scots support has Togo to Cherif

NEVER thought I'd see the day when Cherif Toure-Maman, graced a World Cup finals, but at the risk of compromising my patriotism I've been pondering cheering for Togo next summer.

You may recall Toure-Maman as an undistinguished Livingston midfielder. He insisted on wearing the shirt everyone fought for, the number 91. Apparently it was his favourite basketball player's number, which should have set alarm bells ringing over his footballing ability right away. The squad-number system wasn't adopted in this country until 1998, which thankfully was after Frank McAvennie's retirement or we may have had to endure the classily-romantic Celtic striker prancing around with an oversized 69 on his back.

Bearing such a number permitted Toure-Maman a licence to stand out, however. What he did with a ball was, we thought, never going to afford him much prestige, but I bet he's having a good old snigger at us as Togo head for Germany. So without Scotland I motion Togo, and anyone who plays England, as our adopted nation for the finals. Altogether now: "One Cherif Toure-Maman, there's only one Cherif Toure-Maman...."