This deserved a repost and it's own thread:
The Forgotten Ones
I entered his street and immediately I knew which house was hisā¦without looking at the numbers. His garden was his numberā¦his identity.
Red, blue and white flowers carefully pruned, giving a show of a bygone ageā¦perhaps gone but obviously not forgotten. The vibrant colours of blue, red and white told their own story. Carefully nurtured and carefully tendedā¦and they told me so much about the man I had come to see. The basics had not only been done wellā¦..they had been strictly and faithfully observedā¦followed to the letterā¦.resulting in a show of pure magnificence.
Before I even chapped his door he was there inviting me in. And as we walked through his hallway I felt I was in a time warpā¦framed portraits dawned the wallā¦triggering my memory to remember players both my father and grandfather had spoken of. But furthermore there were pictures of players and managers I had never even heard of.
As we entered his living room I caught a glimpse of our former monarch gazing down at me and immediately recognised it as Annigoniās portrait from the 1950ās of Queen Elizabeth the Second. And around the room I was taken back through timeā¦some from my early yearsā¦but some even from before even my grandfatherās time. For there above the fireplace hung a picture of William of Orange on his white horseā¦victoriously crossing the Boyne.
At this point I knew my paperās researchers had done their job well. This Rangerās supporter was most certainly one who we would refer to as āold schoolāā¦and that was exactly what my remit was. To interview one of the āforgotten onesā.
As I spoke with this old gent it was hard to believe that anyone could ever have taken issue with himā¦.or the things he honoured and defended could ever be seen as offensive. His manner was assuredā¦and his voice steadyā¦.you knew the moment you spoke to him that nothing but truth emanated from his lips.
āSo how did it start I asked himā¦what was the catalyst ?ā
He thought long and hard before he spoke.
āWell it wasnāt just one thingā he said. āMore a combination of factorsā.
I asked him to elaborate.
āAt the time there was fairly vitriolic campaign against Rangers by certain sections of the mediaā¦no matter what Rangers fans did it would be reported in a negative fashionā
āSuch as ?ā I asked.
āWell when I was younger I attended a European match and we had a huge card display before the gameā¦one of the biggest everā¦with Saltires and Union Flagsā¦it looked magnificent, but afterwards all the press would say was that Ibrox looked like a Nuremberg Rallyā
How ironic I thought. In a country where immigrants received classes in āBeing Britishā that home grown British citizens showing their loyalty to flag and crown could be compared to Nazis.
āAnd it went onā¦ he continuedā¦bit by bit they kept chipping awayā¦and the more they chipped the more defiant we became. We loved our club and refused to let it be tarnished by the negative press and their lies. We were fighting for more than a football clubā¦we were fighting for a set of beliefsā¦.a way of lifeā
As I listened to the old gent speak my memory was taken back and I remembered conversations with my grandparents about āthe old Rangersā. To a time where supporting the club was not orchestrated like a directed playā¦tedious and predictable, lacking feeling and passion but was instead spontaneousā¦imaginativeā¦colourful and not forced. To a time when banners and songs said so much about the people who sung them and what they believed in. When to be a Ranger truly reflected the person you were.
āAnd then of course there was the anti-sectarian initiativeā. ā¦he continued. I listened in awe as the old gent recounted the impact of Holyroodās legislative impact. I almost had to pinch myself to ensure I was hearing correctly. My sense of disbelief was due to the revelations years afterwards regarding the same Labour Party who had been the architects of this legislation. How could it be the same party whose āwest coast mafiaā was commonly spoken of in journalistic circlesā¦.whose own sectarian scandals exposed in places like Monklandsā¦could have the gall to drive through such legislation. ?
āIt was another timeā¦another placeā the old gent retorted. āSpin doctors and a favourable press ensured a smooth passageā
Ah āspin doctorsāā¦.it had been years since I had heard anyone use that termā¦.its use nowadays in politics was political suicideā¦for since this old gents day the spin doctors had been exposed for what they were ā¦.professional liars who dressed up bad news or even worseā¦ twisted and distorted the truth and misled the public.
āAnd what of those inside Ibroxā¦.those with the powerā¦what did they do to defend the club ?ā I enquired.
He looked at me ruefully and thought long and hard before answering. āThey say time is a great healer but I find it hard to forgive them. They were warned time and time again about the consequences of their failure to respond to the liesā¦to the accusations against the club. But they did not listen and they did not defend the club. Instead they pursued an agenda of appeasing the press and their liesā¦the only time they responded was when they themselves were criticised.ā
āAnd what affect did that have ?ā I asked .
For the first time during our interview I saw emotion in the old gents eyesā¦not just sadness but a deep sense of pain. āIn the end we came to realise that the clubā¦the institutionā¦the way of life we were fighting for bore no semblance to that which masqueraded as Rangers Football Club. They continued to appease the press and politicians to the point that they drove and banned their very own supporters from Ibrox itselfā
Had it not been for my previous research it would have been difficult to believe what the old gent was saying, but I knew it to be true. The difficult bit was trying to understand it. Hindsight only made it more difficult to understand exactly what the āguardiansā of Rangers were trying to achieve.
For they had at their disposal this priceless gemā¦this body of people who lived for the Rangersā¦whose lives embodied everything which this club stood forā¦who were wonderful ambassadors for this once great clubā¦and not only did the fail to hold onto this priceless gemā¦they actively threw it away. Unforgivable.
And of course the rest as they say is history. Rangers became a club without a soulā¦without traditions and lacking in heritage no longer an institution or a way of life. Ibroxā¦when fans bothered to attendā¦was like a morgueā¦devoid of spontaneous atmosphereā¦and the only singing was when the ācustomersā bothered to respond to the screen prompts pleading with them to sing.
Itās a true sayingā¦. sometimes you only truly appreciate something when it is gone.
