Sir Alex Ferguson: Never Give In (2021)

 

Divided City by Theresa Breslin (Random House 2005)

 

Footsteps.

Running.

Graham didn’t hear them at first.

He was walking fast, eating from his bag of hot chips as he went. Taking a detour via Reglan Street. The kind of street his parents had warned him never to be in. The kind of street where your footsteps echoed loud, too loud – because there was no one else about.

From either side the dark openings of the tenement building mawed at him. It was the beginning of May and fairly light at this time in the evening. But even so . . . Graham glanced around. The sky was densely overcast and shadows were gathering. He shouldn’t have lingered so long after football training.

Graham dug deep into the bag to find the last chips, the little crispy ones soaked in vinegar that always nestled in the folds of paper at the bottom. He wiped his mouth and, scrunching up the chip paper, he threw it into the air. When it came down he sent it rocketing upwards, powered by his own quality header. The paper ball spun high above him. Graham made a half turn.

Wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

Now.

‘Yes!’ Graham shouted out loud as his chip bag bounced off a lamppost ten metres away. An ace back-heeler! With a shot like that he could zap a ball past any keeper right into the back of the net. He grinned and thrust his hands in the air to acknowledge the applause of the fans.

At that moment noise and shouting erupted behind him, and Graham knew right away that he was in trouble.

Footsteps.

Running.

Coming down Reglan Street. Hard. Desperate.

Pounding on the ground. Beyond them, further away, whooping yells and shouts.

‘Get the scum! Asylum scum!

Play For Today: Just Another Saturday (1975)

Boorish Boruc?

I actually think Boruc might have a point on this one.

Did I miss the memo that stated football players had to act like something out of 'Corinthian-Casuals - The Movie', whether they felt like it or not? (I bet I did - there will be a bullshit FIFA directive out there about it.)

Boruc is guilty of nothing more than candour, which is more than can be said for the Celtic and R*ngers boards with their hollow cant about tackling sectarianism, whilst their eyes glisten at the ever-ringing cash registers.

I nearly coughed up my cream cheese bagel Saturday morning, when I caught a glimpse of Hutton, Ferguson and McCulloch on the big screen with their gee'd up sectarian gurning. If they're that hate-filled when they are rolling over a disappointing Celtic, think what they'd be like at the receiving end of a Celtic hammering? (I'm know such a scenario is hard to imagine at the moment.)

Boruc was within his rights not to indulge in the post-match hypocrisy.