Dozy beaks beat eagle-eyed compliance officer any day

One of my favourite players from the days when hair was long, pitches were muddy and you were just as likely to be kicked by a small, clever, silky midfielder as an ogre centre-half, was Alex Edwards. As Garry O’Connor seemed very quickly set for a ban last week, then was just as speedily reprieved, I couldn’t help thinking back to a funny story “Mickey” once told me about football justice, 1970s-style.

As Hibs’ brilliant but fiery and easily wound-up midfield orchestrator, Edwards was a regular visitor to the SFA’s old Park Gardens offices and knew the routine. You’d nod at Rangers’ Willie Johnston emerging from the “court”, compliment Pat McCluskey of Celtic on the cut of his “accused’s suit”, and check on the scheduling of your case.

“You hoped it would be the morning because the sentences before lunch always seemed more lenient,” he recalled. “In the afternoon these old boys could be grumpy. I think one or two of them enjoyed lunch a little too much. They’d fall asleep as you stood before them and their specs would slip off their faces. Once I had to take a lawyer along because I was looking at a six-week ban. He had to tell one of the panel to stop snoring!”

The wheels of football justice turned slowly and wonkily 40 years ago. There were long delays between offence and sentencing, the sense that the reputations of some players went before them, a lack of corroborative evidence (no fourth officials, and a refusal to recognise TV footage) – and punishments which covered weeks rather than a number of games so, if yours ended up being snowed off, you weren’t really banned at all.

Contrast that with now. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s the SFA’s Fast Track Tribunal, part of the new Judicial Protocol System. Doesn’t sound very fast, I agree, but almost in the time it takes to recite that official handle, O’Connor had been accused of diving, shopped by his assistant manager, offered a final cigarette (sorry, a two-match ban), ensured all of our punterdom fully understands what’s meant by “Compliance Officer” and “Rule 202”, saw his club seriously consider disbanding because without him there would no goals, no hope, no reason for driving its fanbase to distraction any more – then surprisingly, “sensationally” according to the small, funny papers, cleared of all offences, save for being in possession of two big bananae feet.

I thought he was a goner. When you look at the footage again – a luxury denied us in Edwards’ day, if being made to watch replays of gallumphing Gaz on the move can be termed as such – it seems that St Johnstone’s David McCracken doesn’t touch him. Did he dive? Well, Saints may feel cheated but, if it’s any consolation, such has been the exposure given the incident that O’Connor, if he was guilty, is unlikely to pull such a stunt again.

He’s a conspicuous big fella, anyway, what with his bulk and blond hair and tattoos. Add to that the bananae feet, his preference for white boots, the thundering running style. He’d have been silly to contemplate simulation, pre-Fast Track. Now that oor fitba’s new bogeyman – murder, polis, it’s the Compliance Officer! – will be watching, it would be insane.

That said, I’m not sure relying on close shaves to remind players not to go down like the proverbial sack of tatties is such a great advert for the procedure.

Yes, Saints will feel the penalty was the game’s decisive moment (and given how much knicker-wetting goes on in the Hibs’ defence right now, I’m sure they fancied their chances of getting at least a draw). But, for O’Connor to be hit with a two-game ban for something that, had the ref seen it, would only have resulted in a yellow card, seems just as harsh when Rule 202 is contravened by just about everyone, many times in a match.

Next game, count up the number of occasions that players – as the euphemism goes – “draw a foul”. For football justice to be absolute we’d all have to become volunteer Compliance Officers similar to special constables, with football-style Crimestopper vans stationed outside every ground.

In such oppressive conditions, players would soon want to take their chances with the squiffy, snoozing beaks and pray for snow.