There’s some fresh enthusiasm in Lanarkshire this morning with the appointment of Englishman Ian Baraclough as Motherwell manager. Baraclough had a couple of successful years with Sligo Rovers from 2012-14, winning their first title in decades, before things fell apart this year, but his role as a scout for Huddersfield over the last six months is likely to interest Motherwell as much.
Motherwell directors have had a long-term tradition when looking for a manager of saying they want someone ‘plugged into’ the scouting and agent network. This game is all about the right contacts, you don’t get to acquire a promising Blackburn Rovers reserve (as Motherwell once did), but this particular activity is also very competitive.
The small matter of how to deploy players is, of course, equally important, but if you’re Motherwell, Celtic or Barcelona, that call is a shot in the dark.
I watched newco Rangers for the first time last night, although I ended up watching a lot more Queen of the South than I expected. The latter, each of them journeymen, were excellent, the former were symptomatic of everything that’s wrong with comfortably well-off footballers. Newco’s medium-term future, if they have one, will be to spend the next few years building a self-sustaining lower league club, capable of winning promotion and remaining a top-flight football team thereafter.
Get along to Celtic Park early tomorrow, Davie Hay will be signing copies of Caesar & the Assassin in the Superstore. If you ask him nicely he’s promised to sign your CQN Annual too. Don’t forget your camera!
Also remember to look out for the Foundation bucketeers as you approach the ground or enter the turnstiles. My boys and me will be at the North Stand, turnstiles 1-13, say hello if you’re around.
Thanks to everyone who donated to Mary’s Meals yesterday, the response was overwhelming. Emails went out this morning to winners of the Magners’ tickets.
You can order your CQN Annual here, or get a special Annual-DVD bundle here.
As a special offer, everyone who buys an Annual, or bundle, before Christmas will be entered into a prize draw for a VIP Meal of 4 at a Celtic Park restaurant on a match day. One entry for each Annual bought; pile in.
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Neil canamalar Lennon hunskelper extrordinaire
03:37 on 14 December, 2014
He said: “I didn’t defend it. Partially because I didn’t know about it — they didn’t serve any papers.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had a castle in Scotland, is supposedly based in Monaco, was lifted in Mexico having just flown there from Japan.
Maybees they just didn’t know where to serve papers?
Worried about lack of progress at Celtic? Spare a thought for BVB fans……..
Borussia Dortmund were frighteningly toothless as they plunged into the relegation zone following Saturday’s desperate 1-0 defeat to Hertha Berlin.
Shaken by another defeat, Dortmund players trudged over to their fans at the end of the game to be greeted with a rendition of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” but patience will soon wear thin if Klopp fails to turn this around.
As down the glen one Easter morn , to a city fair rode I. There armed lines of marching men , in squadrons pass me bye. No pipes did hum , no battle drum , did sound it’s loud tattoo
Burghbhoy,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9MRbek0JXk
HH
If you really think about it, you got everything you need.
No one can stop ya if you truly believe.
In this asphyxiation culture, there’s no place for the weak.
People circle like vultures. Waiting for someone to break.
It’s alright, it’s OK. You can leave anytime you want to. Take your time, walk away. You can come back if you’re supposed to.
Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. Oo-la-la. It’s alright, it’s ok. It’s alright, it’s ok. It’s alright, it’s ok.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ty-IJ3qz-GE
nl&m,
Could have asked his da
Neil canamalar Lennon hunskelper extrordinaire
Yeah, true dat.
“What everyone forgets is I’m the only person in recent years who hasn’t taken a penny out of Rangers.”
He actually put a penny in.
Wonder where the arsenal share money went ? Did he use it for running costs :)
……..maybe running away costs!
Sevco ain’t gonna qualify for the playoffs. Bear in mind, the “FIRE SALE” sign is going up as soon as the transfer window opens.
Their ‘star’ players will be gone.
All their players of any resale value will be sold.
What will be left? Their youth team? The same team recently pasted 6-1 by Celtic.
The fans will abandon ship, big-time.
If and it’s a big IF, Sevco survive, they most certainly won’t be looking towards the top-flight.
If it’s raining where you are, listen to this……..
If it’s sunny, enjoy!
My Girl J&MC stylee……
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdlSS7GVUUA
Huns creaming themselves about billy Davies getting the sevco gig, lol
naw, big Mike’s coming in – front loaded warchest (remember that one) – what will the 2nd reincarnation be called? New NewCo? The NewCo? NewNewcastle? Cessnock Rovers?
Newcashley?
Hoping to see Lustig back in the team today ~ he has been missed.
Griffiths to start? If he’s fit, for sure!
Forrest and Brown also likely to be back in starting XI.
Scepovic or Guidetti……..or both?
Stokes & Commons on bench?
Ah, I just love the Celtic!
COYBIG
gordon64
22:14 on 13 December, 2014
Liquidated or ‘in liquidation’.
Has McCoist resigned or is he ‘in resignation’
‘Potato,potahto,tomato,tomahto.
Let’s call the whole thing off’.
———–
:-))
Good Morning Timland.
Back from walking the dog,a horrible morning,don’t have
a clue what side RD will pick today,can’t seem to get a handle
on the guy.
If you can get yerself well wrapped up and get along to CP,
I believe there is a collection today,well done to all the helpers,
please give what you can……..a quick shower and away to 8:00,
catch you all laters.
Time to vote for the “Biggest FIBBER of the year…..the shortlist has been cut down to two outstanding contenders……
“My players do not dive” – Jose Mourinho
or
“I never asked for any of it. I’m a private, low-key kind of guy, not at all suited to being involved in a football club. What everyone forgets is I’m the only person in recent years who hasn’t taken a penny out of Rangers.” – Craig Whyte.
It is up to you, the viewers, to make the final decision and award this rarely competed for trophy.
Hail Hail
Estadio
3rd contender surely “we don’t do walking away”
Borrowed from Don’t Let It Be Forgot
Celtic Star
Stevie McNally stood on a chill December evening gazing wistfully into the bright window of the Celtic shop on Argyle Street. His breath was visible in the cold Glasgow air and he was shivering a little as he peered through the glass. Christmas shoppers flowed around him like a stream around a rock. A of the few passers-by looked at him with disdain and one muttered audibly, ‘Oot the way Jakie.’ A small manikin wearing the child sized Celtic strip had the word ‘Sale’ written on a red label stuck to the chest and a shop assistant was about to stick on a price tag. He so wanted to buy his Celtic mad son a strip for Christmas but unless it went below £25 he simply couldn’t afford it. It hurt him that he did so little for Patrick these days. It also hurt him that his son’s mother now lived with another man who got to play with him every day while Stevie barely saw him. It terrified him that he’d drop out of his son’s life completely and be forgotten by him. Stevie had seen the other man in Pollok Park with Patrick and it tore at his heart when he saw how his son seemed so attached to him. He wanted to give wee Patrick a present he’d enjoy for Christmas and perhaps on a deeper level remind his boy that his Dad still existed. The young assistant glanced briefly at him through the glass as she attached a label which read £25. Stevie walked to the door and pushed it open before stepping into the warmth of the shop. As the door closed behind him, cutting out the chill and noise of the street Stevie looked around and soon located the sale section.
The same young assistant who had stuck the sale label onto the manikin sized him up as he approached the window display. He knew he looked rough. He had been unemployed for what seemed forever and since parting company with Patrick’s mother he had spiralled down and now called a grim room in a hostel by the Clyde, home. A fight with an un-medicated schizophrenic in another hostel the year before had left him with an angry red scar which ran the length of his cheek. He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and quickly looked away. Wrong choices, wrong friends and the wrong attitude had seen his life fall apart after he parted with Annie. Booze and drugs fuelled much of his downfall although he was now making a real effort to stay clean and sober. He looked at the smart young shop assistant in her neat Celtic Polo shirt, her smart pony tailed hair freshly cut, ‘Aw right hen, is that boy’s Celik strip in the windae twenty five bar?’ She glanced almost imperceptibly over Stevie’s shoulder towards a male shop assistant as if reassuring herself that he was watching, before focussing on Stevie, ‘No, the top is £25. The full strip is £45 in the sale.’ Stevie’s heart sank a little, ‘Jeez Brother Walfrid widnae like that.’ His pointed little joke met a blank stare so he continued, Ye goat it tae fit a seven year auld?’ She nodded, ‘Yes,’ and fetched a shirt from a pile on a nearby display shelf. ‘I’ll take it to the till for you.’ Stevie was used to this. Poor looking people were considered potential shoplifters by some and not to be trusted with the merchandise till the money was handed over. She handed the strip to a burly male colleague who looked at Stevie without bothering to put the hooped shirt in a bag as if doubting that he could pay for it. ‘Twenty five pounds please?’ he barked at Stevie who took the money from his tracksuit pocket and counted it out onto the counter. Two wrinkled tenners and five pound coins. All that remained of his Jobseekers allowance. The assistant took the money with his fingertips as if it might be infectious and placed it in the till. He then bagged Stevie’s purchase and handed it to him. ‘Thank you, Merry Christmas.’ His less than friendly expression rather undermined his festive wishes.
Stevie walked through the bustling streets noticing the excited children gaping at the Christmas lights and generally enjoying being in town at this time of year. Music, which sounded like Peruvian pan pipes drifted down from Buchanan Street and the sparkling Christmas decorations lifted the whole scene. Stevie caught glimpses of that other Glasgow too, the one few bothered to notice. He spotted Eddie, a long term homeless friend of his begging outside Argos. He was sitting on a piece of cardboard and had his dog Jinky with him. Eddie had been hospitalised the year before when some drunks turned on him. For some, homeless also meant worthless but Eddie was the most kind-hearted and decent guy Stevie had ever met. He shared whatever he made begging with the other ‘invisibles’ of the Glasgow homeless scene who crossed his path. Stevie smiled at Eddie as he passed, ‘You still no goat a job ya chancer?’ Eddie grinned his toothless grin back at him and replied in his gravelly Glaswegian voice, ‘Waitin oan a call fae Selik, hear they need a striker!’ Stevie laughed, ‘Striker? You couldnae strike a match ya auld bam.’ The friends smiled at each other and Eddie gave Stevie a small clench fisted salute as he walked on.
Stevie’s Celtic store green bag was inside his tracksuit top close to his heart, ‘Patrick will love it,’ he mumbled to himself as he headed towards Clyde Street and his bed for the night. He skipped up the stairs into the hostel and noticed a group of the residents had gathered at some sort of meeting in the TV room. He entered and sat just as a stout man in a tidy suit was finishing speaking. ‘So basically, the Foundation gives tickets to those who couldn’t otherwise afford to go to a game. I’m leaving 20 with the hostel manager and I hope to see some of you at Celtic Park next week.’ It seemed to Stevie that he’d timed his arrival to perfection. As the man turned to leave, he noticed Stevie’s Celtic shop bag now in his hand. ‘I hope you can make it pal, you’re obviously a fan.’ Stevie nodded and chanced his arm, ‘Can I take my boy?’ The man smiled, ‘Of course you can.’ Stevie looked at the Hostel manager who held a white envelope stuffed with tickets. The man, a life-long blue nose called Ian, had a soft spot for Stevie and caught his eye, ‘Don’t you worry Stevie boy, goat your name oan two already.’ Stevie was elated. He could take Patrick to the match. His son had never been to Celtic Park and perhaps they could share a good time together. Make a memory Patrick would treasure.
Stevie used the office phone in the hostel to phone Annie. It was his first call to her in six weeks. ‘I want tae gie Patrick a Christmas present and take him tae the match oan Saturday.’ She responded in the curt, dry manner she adopted when he called these days. ‘You can meet me at my ma’s and I’ll check ye oot first. If yer drunk or smellin’ of hash yer no getting near him.’ Stevie felt a surge of anger but controlled it, ‘I’m aff the drink and don’t touch any other stuff, Annie. Ye need tae trust me mer.’ She cut across him, ‘Stevie, you’ve let me doon so often, I canny trust ye. Wan o’cloak at my Ma’s and nane ay yer nonsense or ye kin forget it.’ With that the phone went dead. Ian entered the room at that point, ‘Stevie, ye need tae square yerself up before goin’ tae get yer boy on Saturday. I got some gear aff a guy who left the hostel last month. He wiz aboot your size.’ He handed Stevie a black bin bag. Stevie glanced inside at clothing he knew was a cut above anything he owned. He smiled at the middle aged hostel manager, ‘Cheers Ian, yer no a bad guy for a zombie.’ Ian laughed. ‘Just you and yer boy have a good time son. They grow fast and it’s important he knows who his auld man is.’ Later, as Stevie tried on the nearly new clothes he found piece of paper in the pocket of a pair of jeans. It was a receipt with Ian’s name on it. He had obviously given him some of his own clothes. Stevie mumbled to himself with a wry smile, ‘Aye, no a bad guy for a Zombie right enough, Cheers Ian.’
Stevie McNally felt a little nervous as he walked up towards Annie’s mother’s house. It was here he had finally blown his relationship with Annie three years before. Annie was waiting by the close, looking to Stevie as beautiful as she had when he had first got up the nerve to ask her out when they were 16. Now as they both approached 30, the affection they once felt had melted like April snow. There was not a day which passed without him regretting losing her but he accepted that he had blown it and wouldn’t get another chance. He smiled nervously at her, ‘Aw right Annie, yer looking well, doll.’ She sized him up, noticing the smart clothes which had replaced his usual track suit. ‘So are you. Glad tae see yer sorting yourself oot.’ He nodded, ‘Done some bad stuff Annie, I know that but I’m on the right road noo and I just want tae see the wee man for a while, you know.’ He handed her the bag from the Celtic shop, ‘Here’s a wee present for him for Christmas.’ She took the bag, ‘Get him back here for six, Stevie.’ With that she turned and nodded at the first floor window where her mother was watching the scene below from behind the net curtains. After a moment, the close door opened and six year old Patrick stepped out into the bright chill of the day. He seemed bigger than the last time Stevie had seen him and his tousled dark hair needed a trim. Annie zipped his warm jacket and gave him a hug, ‘See you at supper time Patrick. Stay wrapped up.’ As she headed back into the close Stevie called to her, ‘Annie!’ She turned her head as he continued, ‘I really am sorry ye know.’ She pursed her lips and turning, headed into the close without replying. Stevie smiled at his son who regarded him with amused interest, ‘We really gone tae the match Da?’ Stevie took his hand, ‘Of course we are but first we’ve going tae see the statues at the front of Celtic Park and the walkway. It’s brilliant, Patrick.’ They set off hand in hand, Stevie’s spirits lifted by simply being with his boy.
Patrick talked incessantly about Christmas and his Primary one class at the local school as they joined the stream of people heading for the stadium. ‘Miss Brown said Christmas is when magic things happen da, ye need tae see a big star first though. That’s the sign something really good is gonnae happen. A long time ago a baby was born and Miss Brown said there was a big star o’er his wee hoose and Miss Brown knows everything!’ As Stevie listened to his son’s rambling innocence, part of him was aching at having missed so much of his son’s journey through life while another part of him just basked in being with him on this bright winter’s day. God how he loved this boy, he was the one bright light in his life. ‘Miss Brown sounds like a good teacher, son.’ Patrick nodded, ‘She said the Romans came here a long time ago. Did you see them Da?’ Stevie laughed at his son’s utter innocence, ‘Naw Son, before my time, I think yer Grandad John did though.’ They turned off the London Road onto the Celtic walkway. ‘Look Da!’ cried Patrick, ‘It says Celtic on the ground’ Stevie stopped with his son in the middle of the huge club crest emblazoned on the walkway. His son knelt and traced part of it with his hand, spellbound. Stevie had forgotten how children could be amazed by things adults took for granted. ‘Aye but look at the stadium son…’ Patrick glanced up at the huge bulk of Celtic Park. The Celtic way was lined on both sides with green and silver Christmas lights and this drew the eye to the stadium itself at the other end of it. Christmas lights glinted from the walls above the main entrance and two large Christmas trees sparkled by the statues of three Celtic Legends. Patrick’s eyes widened, ‘It’s magic Da, it’s Christmas magic!’ Stevie smiled, ‘I know, they did a good job wi aw these lights.’ Young Patrick shook his head and pointed high above the ground to the very top of the main stand. ‘Naw, look a star! A Christmas star! Miss Brown said that means that something good is goin’ tae happen!’ Stevie followed his son’s gaze and his eyes came to rest on a huge golden star which glinted above the red brick façade of the south stand. ‘Jesus,’ he whispered to himself, ‘it is a star.’ He fought back a tear as he took his son’s hand, ‘C’mon let’s go see the Celts, see if that Miss Brown was right.’ They walked to the stadium together each in their own way amazed at what the day had brought.
Wee Craigie is my hero so it must be that lyin’ cheatin’ bassa fae Chelski. Nae contest.
overseasbhoy
I did initially consider that as a contender, but I think that the statement was honest in that what is actually happening is that ‘We are waddling in a fat face gut busting drunken stagger in whatever direction our obesity decides to flop.”
I have to agree with them that they don’t do walking away.
Hail hail
Estadio
Hoopy birthday to ma auld mucker Jungle Jim. I wonder if his telegram from queeny will arrive before we hit the road to paradise:-)
Toot toot. Have a great day Jim.
Not nice outside here in Auld Reekie. Will need to wrap up well for the game.
Looking forward to seeing Griffiths, who definitely starts today.
The last statement by me was a joke….a poor one admittedly but a joke nevertheless. Any resemblance to someone who has just eaten, is eating or is about to eat is purely coincidental(ly)..
Hail hail
Estadio
More chance of a telegram from Elizabeth than a card from ACGR. See you shortly.
JJ
Also borrowed from Don’t Let It Be Forgot
Beir abhaile ár marbh – Bring home our dead
Those of you who watched Celtic in their unfamiliar black strip winning the cup against Hibs a couple of years back may well recall the fuss made by an ignorant group of online self-appointed vigilantes. It seems they misread the banner of the Achill Island CSC and in their myopic prejudice came up with ‘Islam CSC.’ It was a classic case of people with a pre-existing prejudice against all things Celtic being predisposed to accept lies about them all the more readily. Seeing the Achill Island CSC banner online recently got me thinking about the long links the people of the island and indeed wider County Mayo have with Scotland.
One of the saddest episodes in this history occurred in the early autumn of 1937 when 10 seasonal workers from the island were killed in a bothy fire in Kirkintilloch, north of Glasgow. The ten young lads were aged 13-24 and all were natives of Achill Island and working 50 hours a week on the potato harvest in order to support their families back home. They were locked in a bothy at night which was little more than a cow shed when a still unexplained fire occurred. The Irish women in an adjoining building escaped as did two men lodging with them. It was 1am when the fire was first detected by a fellow worker and the Scottish foreman, John Mackie, who had the keys for the padlock, was awoken but by the time he had got to the bothy and opened the door, the building was engulfed in flames and the roof collapsing on the poor lads trapped inside. One has to question why the Irish workers were locked-in in the first place.
The tragedy stunned not only Achill Island, but the whole of Ireland and Scotland. Questions were asked in Parliament about the appalling conditions the ‘Tattie Howkers’ lived in when they were working the fields of Scotland. Indeed Parliament passed a law the following year to force employers to treat such migrant workers better. In the wake of the tragedy, collections were taken up to ensure the 10 lost souls had a decent burial but when news reached Achill island, a telegram was sent to Glasgow from a heartbroken community which read… ‘Beir abhaile ár marbh.’ (Bring home our dead) The Scottish-Irish community began collecting money so that this would be possible and to their credit Celtic FC led the way with a donation of 100 Guineas. (about £7000 in today’s money) The club also allowed collections among fans at a home game where a similar amount was raised. Various community and church groups in Scotland and Ireland also rallied around and when the ten boys and men were taken to the Broomielaw to meet the boat to Ireland some 10,000 people crowded the quay to see them off on their last journey across the Irish sea.
The boat was met in Dublin by thousands of others as the lost boys continued the long, sad journey home. When they reached Achill Island there was grief which the Irish Independent Newspaper described in the following lines…
“Sorrow which was almost too sacred to describe was seen at the Church of the Immaculate Conception. The ten coffins were laid on the catafalque before the High Altar, and around them were grouped the relatives of all the boys. They sobbed throughout the Mass and when they walked around the coffins at the end of the ceremony with wild cries of grief, they touched the coffins, fell across them, and kissed them.”
The cause of the fire in Kirkintilloch which killed the ten young Irish lads was never discovered. There were suspicions it wasn’t an accident and one woman came forward in 1982 to say that her husband had confessed to starting the fire many years before. The Police questioned him but met a wall of denial and had no proof to continue the investigation. Whatever the truth of the matter it was laudable that the decent people of Scotland and Ireland, of all faiths, joined together to help the families of those affected. Over £18,000 was raised (Almost £800,000 today) and this was eventually split and distributed to the families of the deceased and to the dozen or so survivors. Much as there has always been suspicion about the cause of the fire, we cannot, like those foolish people who misread the Achill island banner, jump to conclusions which suit our own prejudices. At the end of the day it is likely to remain a mystery.
Today a Celtic cross stands on Achill Island as a reminder of those poor boys who died so long ago. Achill Island is a small, tight knit community and everyone on the island would have known the young lads who perished. We can be thankful we live in kinder times when workers are treated better than the seasonal Irish labourers were in the past.
chuid eile i síocháin buachaillí
Rest in peace boys
Your chariot awaits.
Mon the hoops
Jungle Jim,
From one birthday celebrant to another..
Happy birthday, have a smashing day
P
” Richt!
……….Glenlivet,
….Crianlarich……
Irvine……..
…….’Cleopatra’s’
……….*cough*……………
Drongan……..
‘mon, we’re offski!…Aye,
take the bike.”
a ceiler gonof rust
08:28 on 14 December, 2014
Your chariot awaits.
Mon the hoops
£££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££
Jungle Jim happy birthday Sir.
Fortunately the weather has saved me from a soaking watching my big bhoy playing football and his game is off. ACGR brunch is on, think the big guy is joining us, either way see ye both at 11:00hrs..
Ayrshire is Green and White
HH
pod i
08:34 on 14 December, 2014
£££££££££££££££££££££££££££££££
And happy birthday to you too…
HH
kitalba
08:07 on
14 December, 2014
Borrowed from Don’t Let It Be Forgot
___________________________________________
Tear jerker right enough!
Davidopoulos 23.01
Apologies for not replying last night, I am still trying to get used to posting, toasted if bread is toasted, roasted if cheese goes straight on the bread, always will be slice sausage, the answer is in the question, the sausage gets sliced not squared
Enjoy watching the champions today
kitalba
08:07 on 14 December, 2014
Woke up wae the wind howlin in ML5 this morning
“you cant go out to collect in that “says the good lady.
“The thought of not going bucketeering never entered my head”,the thought of a wean getting something on Christmas morning that they would not have gotten without the efforts of Celtic & it’s fans was all that was in there:))))))))))))))).
That story rang so many bells with me that i’m sitting here in tears ,though I was never homeless.
If yer going today give generously and be thankful for all you have in life.
I got sent this text yesterday
“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life, it turns what we have into enough….. It turns denial into exceptance…. It can turn a meal into a feast……A house into a home,a stranger into a friend.
Gratitude makes sense of our past,gives us peace todayand creates a vision for tomorrow.
Kitalba thank you so much again for posting that .
I am blessed with all I need
Hail Hail and see you all soon in paradise
5 nil today
IMHO We as fans are a wee bit special
Pod i & Jungle Jim
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPY Birthday to both of you
Celtic 7 St Mirren 1
Congratulations to all involved at The Kano Foundation as today they will reach the remarkable figure of 3,000 kids they have taken to Celtic Park and other football Stadia, an amazing feat.
Respect to each and every one of you.
YNWA