Glenn Gibbons: Ally McCoist led by heart into Ibrox quagmire

WHEN Ally McCoist talks to himself of a morning (don’t think he won’t yet have reached that stage), the conversation will almost invariably begin with the question: “Why did I take this job?”.

He already knows the answer, of course. He became manager of Rangers because a lifetime of conditioning – first as a fan and, later, as a glorified hero of the club – made the opportunity irresistible.

Despite a natural brightness that would have assured him continued success in his television career – and would certainly have alerted him to the risks of succeeding Walter Smith at Ibrox during these hard times – McCoist would have been as drawn to the post as surely as the moon to its orbit around the earth.

In this respect, he would have had something in common with Alex McLeish in 2001, when he was teased from Hibernian by the then Ibrox chairman/owner, David Murray. Having arrived at his meeting with Murray in understandable excitement and anticipation, McLeish was deeply disappointed to be offered wages that amounted to little more than a quarter of those earned by his predecessor, Dick Advocaat.

Having asked for time to think, he subsequently tried to persuade Murray of the demands and hazards of one of the two most prestigious positions in the country. He was told, quite curtly, to “take it or leave it”.

Murray clearly knew what the candidate knew – that even a relative pittance would be no obstruction to his accepting an appointment that nobody at that stage of a managerial career could possibly refuse. The trophies McLeish quickly accrued, including the domestic treble in 2003, ensured that his earnings would soon reach a level that made his pay-off in 2006 appropriately enriching.

But McCoist’s proximity to Smith last season would have given him all the insight necessary to assess his prospects. When the veteran manager left Ibrox in May, 1998 – the announcement of his departure having been made the previous October – it was because, as he would confirm years later, he was sacked.

His second exit nine months ago was similar to the first in that, once again, he expressed a desire to remain in the game and would consider offers, although not with another Scottish club. On this occasion, there was no question of dismissal. Smith was leaving because it would not be worth staying. It is extremely unlikely that he would not have appraised McCoist of the looming obstacles.

But, among aspirant managers, even the sharpest of minds tend to become victims of an irrationality that “normal” people find bewildering. If, for example, McCoist had recognised in advance that Rangers’ financial distress could create an environment in which it would be almost impossible for anyone to judge his merits as a manager, he would most likely have convinced himself that he could handle it.

It is one of the depressing by-products of the club’s paucity of resources that such a situation has arrived. Even in the seemingly improbable event of Rangers winning the league title, it is not difficult to speculate that McCoist’s success could be overshadowed – perhaps even sidelined – by the media concentration on Neil Lennon’s failure.

The likelier outcome to the championship, a Celtic success, would certainly leave McCoist exposed to unfair taunting. He is already being ridiculed among opposition fans as the man who blew a 15-point lead; in the event of ultimate dethroning, the gloating derision of the winners and the savagery of frustrated and resentful followers of Rangers could make him the meat in a putrid sandwich.

There will be no shortage of commentators on the outlets available nowadays ready to assert that McCoist is responsible for making his own bed. But that kind of trite condemnation takes no account of the passion that informs the decision-making of someone in the Rangers manager’s circumstances. Instead, it merely betrays the emotional bankruptcy of the speaker.

Steven Pressley’s Orwellian ref rant is pure fiction

Who would have thought so many football managers could boast the kind of literary background that would bring them a deep understanding of the concept of doublethink? As anyone who has taken a coaching badge at Largs will know, of course, doublethink is the device by which the totalitarian government in George Orwell’s masterpiece, 1984, is able to shape historical events to suit its purpose, in the process bending the populace to its will. It is the ultimate in re-branding through propaganda.

Steven Pressley of Falkirk was the latest to demonstrate his appreciation of the principle when he offered his explanation for the rant at referee Euan Norris that brought his banishment to the stand during the Scottish League Cup semi-final against Celtic.

Pressley’s anger stemmed from the curious conviction that Norris had somehow done his team a disservice by awarding Celtic a penalty. He began his “rationale” by admitting that he had not seen the incident and, therefore, “I’m not saying it wasn’t a penalty.”

This suggested that someone in his company had seen the offence and had assured him that Darren Dods’s crude flooring of Celtic’s Thomas Rogne – in the manner of an Olympic-standard Graeco-Roman wrestler – was a penalty seven days a week and twice on Sundays.

It was at that point, however, that Pressley entered Orwellian mode and invented an alternative scenario – one that had not actually occurred – by way of justifying his condemnation of Norris. “But I want to ask you just one question,” he said. “Would it have been given at the other end of the pitch?”.

The hypothesis is as ludicrous as the implication that Norris would have seen Rogne execute a similar challenge on Dods in the Celtic box and taken no action.