Reflections on a Scottish Cup Quarter-final

It's famously been 80 years since Albion Rovers last reached a Scottish Cup quarter-final. Standing between them on this occasion was the might of Rangers, a club that (in its former guise, at least) has done rather better in the intervening eight decades.

Of course, few among the Albion Rovers faithful were expecting a win but we were hoping that the team would give a better account of itself than it did in the 4-0 reversal earlier in the season in the League Cup. Rovers-Rangers games are something like buses - you wait ages for them and then two come along in quick succession.

The Rovers team warms up

I arrived at Ibrox early, to soak in something of the "atmosphere" - which only served to remind me why I support Albion Rovers (and Morton, my "second" team). Everywhere were expressions of the supposed joys of sectarianism, and that supporting Rangers has something to do with a gross misunderstanding of the complexities of Northern Irish politics. The Rangers fans came with their banners proclaiming their (to me, rather confused) identity, while the Albion Rovers contingent were obviously simply out to enjoy themselves.

Ah, the joys of sectarianism!

It is not only the misplaced identity with sectarianism that I struggle with, the the near tangible sense of entitlement that many Rangers fans still seem to have. Sitting just feet away from Rangers supporters, it was difficult to avoid hearing some of the asides aimed at us an our "wee team". Yes, a team that - until the end of last season - was playing in a higher division than they were. Some Rangers fans were already dismissing the opposition and talking about where they would want to be sitting at the final. Still, these are supporters and at least one of them appears only to buy a ticket to have an opportunity to goad the visiting fans - not once during the entire 90 minutes did he once look at the game...but surely those running club are now free from such arrogance? They will have a bit more insight into their current circumstances, yes?

Erm, no. In his programme notes captain Lee McCulloch reflected on the embarrassment of drawing with Stenhousemuir, while also making a comparision of sorts with Albion Rovers: "it is 80 years since Rovers reached the last eight...but it's going on five years now since we last won the Cup and for Rangers that is too long." OK. So, "wee" clubs like ours can wait almost a century for a semi-final and that's fine, but Rangers, well, they're such a special club that it's completely wrong that their supposed divine right to win everything has evaporated. Not much humility in that statement from the Rangers captain, but enough of an arrogant sense of self-entitlement to make every Rovers fan reading those words to hope our team can bring him down a peg or two.

The teams line up. 

But that's enough of Rangers. Let's talk about the game.

Rovers kicked off and within two minutes almost took the lead when Liam Cusack's well-hit shot flew wide of the Rangers goal. Rangers, not taking this warning very seriously, threw a great deal forward looking for the opening goal. By some miracle, and some incredibly astute and solid defending, Rangers don't score. And then, on 13 minutes, another miracle happens: Rovers string a few League Two passes together and win a corner. From the resulting corner, Lee McCulloch (yes, him) connects with the cross - commiting the schoolboy error of attempting a pass across the face of a crowded goal - and Ciaran Donnelly connects to give us the lead.

Our first quarter-final in 80 years? Let's have a party!

This takes everyone by surprise, including the Rovers fans. We all forgot where we were and started singing. Not accustomed to loud renditions of non-sectarian songs, a few of the Rangers fans tried to tell some of our more vocal supporters that they didn't appreciate visiting support making quite so much noise. Not that we cared.

Rangers obviously expected that all they had to do was keep possession and wait for us to meekly capitulate. This is the only way that I can satisfactorily explain their unadventurous tactics of aiming predictable crosses at static forwards, and resorting to pot shots from outside the box. On the rare occasions that they did work openings, the finishing was profligate to say the least. It was as if Peter van Vossen and Erik Bo Anderson were making comebacks.

The Rovers defence stood firm, making a string of heroic tackles and interventions. Our keeper, Neil Parry, was in good form and looked to increase in confidence as the match wore on. At half-time, with the score at 1-0 and Rangers' lack of imagination clear for all to see, Rovers fans started to believe it could be our day.

The scoreboard tells the story. As do the emptying stands.

And it deserved to be. But for a controversial incident on 78 minutes both teams would have got what they deserved: Rangers, elimination from the competition (they did, however, get the fully merited treatment from their own fans) and for Rovers a semi-final place (although the chairman will be happy with the financial rewards of a replay). Unfortunately, a hopeful hoof upfield was chased by the hugely unimpressive Bilel Mohsni who appeared to either collide with the goalkeeper or handle the ball on its way into the net. For a few seconds, no-one was quite sure what was happening. And then, without consulting his assistant, the referee walked off towards the centre circle.

I've watched the replays several times. My reaction at the time was that the referee had made an enormous mistake. On reviewing the evidence, I don't see how the referee can have allowed it to stand - at least not without consulting the better-placed man on the line. It's questionable whether Mohsni made much contact at all, but if he did it's with his arm. And if that isn't a foul on the keeper, then nothing is. I suppose it isn't for nothing that Scottish referees were sponsored by Specsavers.

Rangers didn't endear themselves to us with their unsportsmanlike conduct. When Parry put the ball out of play for a player to receive treatment, we didn't expect for Rangers not only to refuse to return the ball but launch an attack. And when Chris Dallas went down injured, the pitiful attempts from some Rangers fans to suggest he was timewasting when he'd just been forced out of the biggest game of his career were a bit much.

Throughout the match, Rangers fans made their feelings known. They were less than impressed, as well they might be. It might have been sporting if some of them applauded the Rovers' players efforts at the final whistle, but by that point many had already left and were now on twitter and facebook, talking about meltdown and crisis because a "joke team" had out-thought, if not out-played, them. Fortunately the Rovers fans, still in party mood, stayed behind and applauded their team.

It was a historic occasion. Personally, after already beating Motherwell and Stenhousemuir in the previous rounds I'd have preferred anyone other than Rangers away in the quarter-finals simply because I have little truck for what Rangers represent on a commercial and cultural level. Dumbarton at home would have been perfect! However, I am proud to have seen my team in the quarter-finals of a Scottish Cup - something that many Rovers supporters have never experienced - and to have been just 12 minutes away from an improbable semi-final place was incredible.

It's the final whistle and Albion Rovers have won - 1-1!
(You get the point.)

Seeing Ally McCoist on TV defending the referee's decision just underlines what a great day it was for us.

We now have a replay at home (wherever that will be - almost definitely not Cliftonhill) and we'll have to do it all again. We know Rangers are beatable.

Thanks should go to the stewards who were fantastic toward the visiting support, and to Rovers themselves for the tremendous way they attempted to ensure that every Rovers fan, even exiled supporters, had the opportunity to be at such a historic game. Jeers, however, to the TV crew who, having the Scottish Cup in their possession allowed Rangers fans the opportunity to have their pictures taken with it, without thinking that some Rovers' fans might like the same opportunity.

The best thing about this quarter-final was not simply that we got something of a result. It was that, at the end of it, it was not just about Rangers. We were not simply a team that had got that far only to capitulate to a supposedly "big" club for the dubious privilege of being labeled "plucky" by the Daily Record. The team, the club and our fans did themselves, Coatbridge and Scottish football proud. Well done, everyone!

It’s a been a great season for Morton

It may not seem like it for many Morton supporters who have just seen the team lose 1-0 at home to Dunfermline. But it has been quite an amazing season and one that every Morton fan should be proud of.

OK, it isn’t quite all over yet but it’s looking almost certain that the Ton will finish in second place, and therefore not achieve the promotion to the Premier League that for so long this season seemed a distinct possibility.

It’s been 25 years since Morton were last relegated from the top flight and it’s been a long – and sometimes very painful struggle – to get back.  It didn’t quite happen this time around, but it’s the nearest we’ve come in all that time and, if we can keep the team together, we should have a great chance next time.

It’s easy to point to some key games we played poorly in, such as the defeats to Dumbarton and Hamilton, or the recent visit to Firhill.  All in all, it’s been a cracking season though and to finish second to a team playing as well as the current Partick Thistle team – having pushed them hard – is an achievement in itself. Sure, in the final analysis we failed to secure promotion but, at the beginning of the season, did anyone genuinely think we would?

Not me. I just wanted an improvement on last season – and I think it’s safe to say we achieved that!

The way we’ve played this season has been good for the club, the fans, the Scottish Football League and the town.  It’s been terrific to see people in Greenock getting excited about the team again, even if not enough turn up to Cappielow. The team has given people in Greenock the chance to feel good about the place again, and that’s priceless.

My better half is not a Morton fan, in fact she quite likes Partick Thistle which makes life interesting. I think though is fair to say that anyone – even the “the only good thing to come out of Greenock is a Paisley bus” kind of St Mirren fan – must admit there’s something very special about this Morton team.  Allan Moore deserves real credit for what he’s done so far.

The best thing is that the club is still a work in progress, at all levels. It’s come a long way from the dark days of the early 2000s under Hugh Scott.  Chairman Douglas Rae has brought not only some much needed stability in the last decade but has overseen Morton rise from the pits of Hell itself (well, the Third Division, which is the same thing) to second in the First Division –and of course has contributed to the vastly improved financial position.  On the playing front, season 2012-13 showed what Morton are capable of – I think we can be optimistic that there is much more to come.

So, while the last week has been a disappointing one for the Ton, it’s been far from a season of failure.  It’s been our best season for over a decade– arguably even better than 1995-6 when Morton (including Finnish ace Marko Rajamaki) missed out on promotion by goal difference to Dundee United.  We should be proud of that, and look forward optimistically.

What might be useful is, with talk of league reconstruction in the air, is for the powers that be to reconsider the ridiculous set-up than allows only for one team to be promoted to the SPL. It was a flawed measure in almost every respect, and if the top tier of Scottish league football is genuinely to be a meritocracy then the very least that should be done is introduce play-offs, as is the case for promotion/relegation from the other divisions.

After a season like this, I’d say that both Thistle and Morton deserve promotion. But I’m bound to say that being a Morton fan. There is of course a better case for introducing a second promotion spot – to make end of season games more meaningful for players and spectators alike.

I should add that I used to live in Panmure Street behind Thistle's ground and went to quite a few games. (Well, I've always had a sense of humour.) If Morton were going to lose out to anyone, I'd rather it be Thistle than anyone else.

And so, congratulations to Thistle – I hope you do well next season in the SPL and I look forward to hostilities being renewed in 2014-15, when of course Renfrewshire derbies (but not Old Firm clashes) will hopefully again feature in the SPL! In the meantime, Morton fans should reflect with sober judgement on this season and look positively towards a brighter future.

Some reflections on Xanthe's dedication.

Xanthe is now seven months old.  Those seven months have gone by extraordinarily quickly, during which I have developed practical skills I never believed I would need and an unusual ability to remain alert in spite of all the sleepless nights.

It's interesting that, already, differences are emerging between my parenting approaches and those Anna prefers.  Inevitably, these stem from personal and family experiences.  They also are the product of the expectations of those closest to us. of our respective views of the world and ultimately how we see ourselves.

The small matter of the baby's rite of passage came up, and in some respects we are in agreement.  Neither of us believes that a bit of water and some religious mumble-jumble will do a child much good.  Similarly, we don't believe in imposing religion upon a child's life.  I personally struggle with the notion of baptism as being anything but voluntary.  But we also are both of the view that we wish for our family - and extended family - to be as involved in Xanthe's life as possible and we saw the value in something that would celebrate this new life while also looking to the future - perhaps actually going beyond traditional rituals and practices while loosely confirming to them.

Anna's from a more typically religious background than I am; her father is the minister of an independent church in Cumbria that seems to swing between socially liberal and conservative philosophies depending on the issue. We certainly have some interesting conversations.  They don't "do" religion in the classical sense either, which I find quite positive.  However, sadly in their proclaimed irreligiousness such people become religious: my brother had specifically requested before Xanthe's birth to be a godparent (one reason why this was important to us) but apparently their church does not believe in them.  Wasn't there a chance of incorporating this into a dedication ceremony for a family member?  It seemed not, at least without creating internal family feuds.  

It does make you wonder, if they can't  accommodate family requests what chance is there of actively reaching out to others in need of inclusion such as LGBT people?

Godparents were important to us not from the perspective of religious convention, but because mentoring and supporting parents in the roles is vital in a child's development.  And in my brother Adrian and my friend Bob, not only had we found two incredibly supportive mentors with a real interest in Xanthe's development, but some incredibly good role models.  Both have very different life experiences which will enrich Xanthe's cultural and social understandings as she grows up.

It would have been quite a nice thing to have a dedication ceremony in Anna's family's church but neither of us wanted to labour the point about inclusivism, and we certainly didn't wish to exclude people we'd already asked to be godparents.  

Fortunately the Salvation Army was on hand to allow us a "dedication" rather than a Christening ceremony.  I like the Salvation Army, although I don't really buy into where it comes from theologically. They've been quite good to me in the past, to put it mildly.  And, on this occasion, they allowed us to create our own  ceremony including a secular song that I'd written, performed by Xanthe's cousins.  We were able to fully involve both family and godparents in ways that we wanted and while there were many Christian references the religious content wasn't laid on very thick, always positive for those present who struggle with ecclesiastical speak and religion more generally.

The event itself took place last Saturday; indeed, as we had hoped, it turned into a celebration of a young life with huge potential.  It was also a way of bringing our rather diverse family and friends together, of making people feel significant and involved, and for enjoying some pretty good food.  It also made a statement of how deeply Xanthe is loved and the dedication many people have to care for her.

These events are important for so many reasons.  It's a milestone in Xanthe's life and a means of drawing people who are important to us (and therefore to Xanthe) together.  And, in our case, it sent out a strong signal of inclusiveness.  Everyone was welcome, because they are a part of Xanthe's life.  We are all the products of hundreds of relationships: they might vary in terms of how they positively affect us, but there can be no denying that they make us who we are.  And, as Xanthe's father, those people who have shaped my own life inevitably influence Xanthe's in unseen ways.  No doubt my attitudes and worldviews were forged by my own family, friends and countless people I've come into contact with.  This was reflected by hidden tributes to people who were not present and will never have the privilege of knowing Xanthe personally: a Gaelic reading in memory of my friend Bill Beaton, a rendition of Le Lac de Come in honour of Dr Jose Belda, who taught me the piece and inspired me to study medicine, and my own song being written to the tune of The Dark Island in tribute to an elderly lady named Mrs Williams who, during my time at Oban High School, contributed in no small way to my personal well-being and who, rather amazingly, decided to take up learning the accordion at the age of 90.

The problem with such events is that, too often, they are overtly religious and lack any kind of scope for actually focusing on the child themselves.  Surprisingly many still find the need to endure such tedious ceremony, often in spite of their lack of belief. That wasn't for us.  Similarly, while there are beautiful humanist naming ceremonies which I'm happy to promote, we also wanted to include many family members who have particular Christian beliefs and may have struggled with an entirely non-religious service.  We felt that inclusivism was a more fitting message than any other and are certainly very grateful to the Salvation Army, who allowed us to make Xanthe's dedication all things to (almost) all people and, most importantly, for accommodating the many very personal and unique requirements we had.

It was a surprisingly beautiful and inclusive ceremony.  Actually, come to think of it, given our respective families that isn't too hard.  Plenty of people from different backgrounds including some LGBT people - all who have one thing in common: they're part of Xanthe's life.

Christenings, dedications, naming ceremonies...ultimately, whatever they are called, they should be about introducing a child to a world of love, with people close to him or her pledging commitment to their well-being.  It isn't God's day, it's the child's - and the family's.  

The last word goes to Xanthe's godparent Bob and his wife Helen who wrote to us afterwards: "We were honoured to be part of your dedication service and lovely family party/celebration.  Thank you for inclusing us.  How fortunate Xanthe is - to be born with such a lovely, lively family,with such a splendid cohort of uncles, aunts, cousins, etc. It was very good to be part of Xanthe's big day."  

No doubt, it's one of many "big days" Xanthe will have throughout her life.  I imagine that some might turn out to be a little more expensive...

In defence of beach volleyball

I’m a huge sports fan.  I’m also a great believer in the ethos of the Olympic Games, even though I am suspicious of how de Coubertin’s noble ideas have become increasingly marginalised by creeping global capitalism.

With the Olympic Games on our doorstep this year, myself and Anna bid for a number of tickets to various Olympic events.  Twenty-three in total – and we were successful in only three.  No doubt LOCOG were looking to create a fair system for ticket allocation but they only succeeded in creating an arbitrary one, whereby some people got everything and others got nothing.  I suppose in some respects we were fortunate and we had the opportunity to be part of the Games, unlike several others who would have loved to have been able to attend three events.

We didn’t manage to secure tickets for some of what we’d really have liked to see – such as athletics, swimming, diving and judo.  But we did find our way into watching fencing and table tennis – the former delighted Anna as, in a former life, she was a fencer – as well as beach volleyball.

Ah, beach volleyball.  It’s something I’ve watched courtesy of the BBC’s televised Olympic coverage since its inauguration at the Barcelona Games but for which I’ve never developed a real interest.   What I have gained over the years is a respect for the game and its athletes – if not necessarily the way that it is presented and packaged – in addition to a disdain for those taking cheap shots at the sport, who claim it should not be a part of the Olympics or who underestimate the technical quality of Olympic beach volleyball.

Beach volleyball is often perceived as something of a sideshow to the principal Olympic events.  Like synchronised swimming before, it has to be laughed at before most people take it seriously.  At best many consider it light-hearted popular entertainment but others can be notably more hostile - including The Times’ Giles Coren who wrote such a horrifically judgemental piece on Monday, completely ridiculing the sport while displaying his ignorance in the process, that I feel compelled to make a defence of beach volleyball here.

It is quite amazing that two people can be watching the same sporting event and come away with such differing appreciations.  While, as I’ve indicated previously, the culture surrounding beach volleyball is not exactly my cup of tea, I am able to look beyond it and recognise the finer points of the game for what they are.  Unfortunately, Coren lacks this ability and seems to have made his mind up even before he’d had any chance to witness the serving, spiking, blocking and digging on offer.  “The field of sand [resembled] a bull ring”, he opined, simply for poetic effect.  “But there would be no blood today, unless one of the girls broke a nail.”  Hmm, no prejudice there then.  The kind of pathetic sexist jokes that even The Sun refuses to print are fair game when writing about beach volleyball it seems – an indication of how far in the credibility stakes the game has yet to come.

Prejudices aside, Coren enters into some more detailed objections to the game as an Olympic sport.  “This isn’t sport, it’s a saucy seaside postcard” he explains.  “It is a fun holiday game that has slipped into the Olympics by a back door marked ‘sex’.  There’s no skill to speak of, no variation of pace, no subtlety to the game.  You can only score with a smash or a fake smash-dink, or if your opponents fall over in the sand.” 

Let’s take the references to sex and saucy postcards first.  Clearly Coren was unfortunate not to watch either the USA or the Australians’ talented women’s teams in action because their “veterans” (i.e. all clearly over 30) are far from sex symbols.  And, of course, objecting to a sport simply on the basis of how players are attired or their physical attractiveness is no objection at all – unless the logic is extended to the likes of tennis, where Maria Sharapova’s style is far more seductive to my eye than beach volleyball’s double Olympic Gold Medalist Misty May-Treanor.  Admittedly there is a “fun” culture surrounding the game, but then this is beach volleyball.  Perhaps Coren has never been to a beach before?

Coren makes the point that the presence of “sex countries” such as “Brazil, Sweden and Romania” mean that their women are perceived as “suntanned, sexually liberal from a young age and principally employed in the sex industry”.  Quite honestly, I’d guess he was the only person in the crowd making such an assessment.   Most were simply appreciating the drama.  As Coren will know, like other Olympic sports entry to the beach volleyball competition is subject to qualification, not assumptions about liberal morality, and his argument is bogus.  Accepted, beach volleyball oozes sex appeal – but it is not fundamentally about sex any more than is women’s tennis.  Or men’s rugby for that matter (why should sex appeal be exclusively aimed towards heterosexual males?).

The bikini-clad “entertainers” who came on to dance during intervals were not only dreadful (they were less entertaining than the rakers who came to level the sand between periods of play) but probably don’t help challenge the attitudes of those who would reduce the game to a celebration of heterosexual sexuality.  However, I naturally assume this is an attempt to recreate the “fun” culture of actual beaches (well, beaches anywhere apart from Lowestoft) where you might actually see people in bikinis playing with giant balls.   Whatever it is, it is a sideshow and hardly the essence of the sport.  As for “Mexican waves and playing the Macarena” – in what way does that debar beach volleyball from being a valid sport, Mr Coren?  A few years ago I went to a football match at Burnley and saw cheerleaders aged between 6 and 8 writhing around to Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?  If people want to complain about the use of sexual appeal in sport there are far more valid objections to make.

Anyway, let’s get back to the main thing: the game which, it is claimed, is devoid of skill, subtlety or any other redeeming qualities.  I’ll make it simple: beach volleyball is a form of volleyball, a game that I used to play.  Volleyball itself is a sophisticated sport, combining strategy and technique with individual player specialisation and choreographed team movement for systematic play.  True, in beach volleyball the importance of the latter are much reduced but it is no more a non-sport on that basis than is Twenty20 cricket, which is not the highest form of the game but certainly not one lacking in skill.  It’s simply that the required skills are different.   The parallel with Twenty20 cricket is actually a very good one, as beach volleyball is often distinctly more exciting and entertaining than “true” volleyball, even if the tactical purists will never fully take to it.

To serve with consistency and accuracy is a skill in itself.  Some of the blocking on display, especially from the Brazilian men, was world class and would be recognised as such in any form of the game.  In some respects beach volleyball is that bit tougher than conventional volleyball, as teams are smaller and allowed fewer touches and thus accuracy, understanding between the players and co-ordination of movement is of increased importance.  It’s also not easy playing on sand, something that obviously doesn’t occur to Coren or others who believe that “you or I could get up to something like bronze medal standard with a couple of hours of training”.  All forms of volleyball require a great deal more preparation than that, and to excel at any sport requires the ability to think a good game and intellectually outmanoeuvre opponents. 

Coren seems to take the view that beach volleyball is a woman’s sport, perhaps due to a combination of his viewing sex as the essence of the game and his own heterosexual preferences.  The idea that men actually play the game too sends him cold: “some men came on to play and I found that a little gross.  I felt dirty just watching it”, he says.  This says far more about the journalist than it does about the game.  He goes on to describe male beach volleyballers as “the Olympic distillation of a jobless thicko beach bum, carrying totally inferior sperm to the supercharged world-beating millionaires of the serious track and field”.  This man has some serious prejudices, which presumably account for him being unable to value the amazing performances of the British duo and their Brazilian counterparts in one of the most dramatic first sets I have ever witnessed.

Clearly a problem beach volleyball has is how it popularly compares to other, more “serious” sports.  This makes it easy for Coren to claim that “if [beach volleyball players] were good enough to play tennis, they’d be playing tennis”.  But why should they want to play tennis, when they’re volleyball players?  It’s a completely different discipline.  I wonder if Coren extends the same logic to table tennis players, who should presumably be putting down their bats and showing off their bums like Maria Sharapova?  It is a great pity that a society we seem to have developed a sporting hierarchy, with the likes of the highly publicised football, rugby, athletics and tennis towards the top and the less popular or more “marginal” sports such as water polo and beach volleyball easily disregarded.

I don’t ever expect to see a beach volleyball player voted BBC Sports Personality of the Year.  I don’t imagine Britain will ever produce a beach volleyball world champion, or even an Olympic medallist.  Part of the reason for this is, ultimately, the way the sport is perceived in this country.  As long as the likes of the sex-obsessed Coren are allowed to pour scorn on the game and its participants unchallenged, its potential development into a wider participant sport in the UK will be stifled.  The message that should be sent out, loud and clear, is that beach volleyball is fun and while we can’t all be Misty May-Treanor there is plenty of scope for individuals of all ages to get out and enjoy it. 

Let’s not have any of this tosh about beach volleyball not being a sport.  It is and the Olympics are the ideal forum for it.  In fact, if the sex associations simultaneously derided yet reinforced by Coren are to be challenged, the continuing development of the game as a respected, widely-enjoyed Olympic sport must be central to it.  It may be true that Olympic beach volleyball is as much a spectacle as a game, but if that enables more people to enjoy what the sport can offer it is no bad thing.

All photographs taken by myself at Horse Guards' parade on Monday 30th July 2012.

Rangers in SFL3 - right decision, wrong process

As we now know, so long as the decision of the Scottish Football League is respected, Rangers FC in their new guise will participate in the Scottish Football League Division 3 next season.  They will be playing their local derbies against Queen's Park - something that hasn't happened since 1948 - and will make away trips to such exotic locations as Annan's Galabank and Montrose's Links Park.  More bizarrely, they will be playing in a lower tier of the league than my own Albion Rovers who I have followed though the thin and thin since 1994, and my "adopted" team of Greenock Morton.

I believe that the right decision has been made, but probably not for the reasons many think.  What I have been far from in agreement with is the way this situation has been handled and the way in which this decision has been arrived at.  For example, I cannot see how punishing a club and its fans for the actions of its owners (with secondary effects on the club's many creditors) is in any way responsible - and certainly not the remit of a football league of which Rangers FC was not a member at the times of its alleged offences.  I also resent the way in which the debate has focused on how the SFL will decide Rangers future: it isn't the responsibility of the league to make such a decision, but to invite a new club to join the league following a newly created vacancy.

It is probably helpful if I make it very clear I am not a Rangers supporter.  I dislike a great deal about what the Old Firm represents, not least the sectarian associations which still refuse to die.  I feel that the way in which Rangers and Celtic have dominated Scottish football to a ridiculous degree has not been to the benefit of the game in general.  The sense of entitlement and commercial arrogance of the Old Firm clubs have hardly tempted me to think too positively about them.  Then again, for someone who spends their Saturdays at Cliftonhill or Cappielow, that's not a surprising thing to say.

What might be more surprising is that, in spite of the fact that I dislike Rangers, I'm not one of these fans of other clubs who has been clamouring for the harshest punishment possible.  I don't like to see any club going to the wall, whether it's Clydebank, Airdrie, Gretna or Rangers.  These clubs have or had histories, supporters and links with their communities.  True, I feel that the situation surrounding Rangers is a huge wake-up call for the Scottish game and it would have been both immoral and setting a dangerous precedent to offer a newco Rangers a place in the SPL - but nonetheless the club's ceasing to exist wouldn't have been a cause to celebrate.  And it would have demonstrated how easily any club could find it's future threatened as long as people such as Craig Whyte are allowed to forget their business sense the moment they find themselves in a club boardroom.

What I have found more than mildly irritating is that, during the protracted debate that has followed Rangers' being deducted points a few months ago, it became obvious that as far as the football authorities (and some clubs) are concerned, Rangers were perceived as too big to fail.  This itself speaks volumes about the ailing state of Scottish football and the need for revisiting how the game is governed.  No club should be "too big", especially not one that had dominated to the detriment of others who now (in the case of Stenhousemuir at least) seem to have become content to accept the skewed arrangements and feed on the scraps which fell from the rich man's table.  When vested interests are cited as a means of parting from precedent, it speaks of an unhealthy dependency and underlines the inescapable reality that Scottish football is far from a meritocracy.

Of course, there are serious issues of justice to be settled.  That, for me, is now a matter outwith the football authorities' responsibilities, especially as Craig Whyte's takeover is currently subject to a criminal investigation.  I hope that Whyte and the other discredited individuals who brought the club to its knees are, at the very least, prevented from going anywhere near a football club again in their lives.

And then there are the SFA and the SPL, who appeared to be making the rules up as they went along to accommodate Rangers.  I can only guess at their motivations, but it appears that the existing structures they are so keen to maintain require a strong Rangers at the centre.  What is certain is that the interventions of Neil Doncaster and others only confused the matter and lent themselves to the common perception that there was no-one actually in control.

There has been a great deal written about the internal politics of Scottish football, and I have no wish to add to it.  What I want to say, however, is this: the Scottish football authorities simply had to follow precedent and apply it equally to all member clubs.

It was entirely up to the SPL members to decide on whether or not a newco Rangers should be allowed into its ranks.  I personally feel the final decision was the right one. After that decision was made, the SPL's responsibility was to identify an alternative club to take Rangers' place (something which, amazingly, didn't seem to feature in their thinking) - not to influence the decisions of other footballing bodies the new club might wish to approach.

As for the SFL, why the lengthy debate and the discussions about Rangers' recent history?  Why was its focus solely on the future of the Rangers newco?  It's not as if this is a new situation - what normally happens when a vacancy appears (this time created by a member club moving into the SPL) is that indications of interest are invited from non-league clubs.  So why, on this occasion, was Rangers the only club under consideration?

Let's take the case of Airdrie.  The old club found themselves in a similar predicament to Rangers and dissolved at the end of the 2001-2 season.  A newco was formed, with the name of the proposed new club Airdrie United.  The SFL were understandably concerned at the prospect of setting a precedent by which heavily indebted clubs could reform and reapply for their own place in the league and instead decided to admit Gretna.  Airdrie United, however, bought out struggling Clydebank and with it a place in the second division.  The vital point, however, is that the newco had to apply for its place in the SFL and that its application was rejected in favour of another.

When Gretna were relegated from the SPL in 2008, the club was liquidated and accepted into the SFL (on the premise that a new buyer would be found) - but only into the Third Division.  Unfortunately for Gretna, being relegated to the bottom tier put off prospective buyers and sponsors and they resigned from the league.  The SFL chose to replace them with Annan Athletic from a shortlist including Edinburgh City, Spartans and Cove Rangers.

A similar process occurred in 1994, when Caledonian Thistle and Ross County were elected into the league.  Why then, given this apparently tried and tested method of admitting new members, did the SFL not follow its own procedures in this case?  Why was there both internal discussion and public debate about which league a newco Rangers should be admitted to?  Why were the likes of Alloa Athletic's board compelled to take on board the views of their own fans in their decision making process when historical precedent should have instead done all the talking?

As far as the SFL was concerned, a vacancy had arisen.  One high profile new club had expressed an interest.  What should have happened is that applications should have been invited and each of them been taken on their respective merits.  Admittedly the process is fundamentally flawed in key respects but, until the governance of the game is reformed, it's the only one we have and should be followed for the sake of consistency and fairness.  On this occasion the SFL chose against following their own procedures and instead spent inordinate amounts of time debating which division Rangers should start out their new existence.  This would surely not have happened if the club in question had been St Mirren, Dunfermline or Inverness Caley Thistle.

What is now likely is a stand-off between the SFL and the SPL, whose attempted interference to influence the outcome of the SFL vote was heavily resented and whose plans for an SPL2 are now in serious jeopardy. The SPL has apparently threatened not to invite either Dundee or Dunfermline to take Rangers' former place in protest at the outcome and thereby may prevent the newco Rangers being admitted into the SFL. How this internal strife will help Scottish football, I can't imagine. What is actually now needed, as Alloa Athletic director Ewen Cameron told The Sun, is "a unified league of 42 clubs". The game also needs an urgent and overdue injection of integrity.  The resignations of Neil Doncaster and Stuart Regan would well be a positive start in that respect, but are about as likely as a Morton victory in the Scottish Cup final.

I can't see the likes of Edinburgh City, Cove Rangers or any other potential applicants for the vacant SFL place able to offer what the newco Rangers clearly do.   In that respect, the outcome is the right one - while the process, the nature of Scottish football's politics and what passes for leadership within the game leave a great deal to be desired.

I hope the SFL's decision is respected and look forward to the Glasgow derby, in which I will naturally be cheering on the Spiders.  The main thing is that a newco Rangers have been allowed to survive and move forward.  It not only Rangers that I hope will emerge stronger from this, but Scottish football more generally.  Admittedly in the short-term there will be economic effects that will be keenly felt, but in the longer-term there lies an opportunity to rebuild the game, its governance and its structures - and to make sure that the financial well-being of member clubs is not inextricably connected to the continued success of two giants.

How to choose a baby name...democratically

As I've very recently become a new dad, in the next few months or so I might reflect on parenthood more than a little!

I would like to thank everyone on twitter, some who I know well and some less well, for all your kind congratulatory messages yesterday after I announced the arrival of baby Xanthe.

Somebody noted that "Xanthe is such an ACE name" and inevitably conversation turned to how we picked it.  When I explained how we named her, someone else commented "if that's true, that's almost as cool as the name itself!"  Intrigued?

We were told at our second ultrasound scan that our expected child was a girl.  I've been naturally suspicious of such predictions since my little "brother" turned out to be a little sister all the way back in 1991, so I didn't feel a sudden urgency to have the bedroom decorated pink - but obviously we needed to start thinking about potential names.

Actually, we'd given some thought to names in the recent past.  It would have been much easier for a boy in some respects.  Given my background, I like Gaelic names and eastern European names (my grandfather was Polish) but Anna is less keen on them, especially when she can't even spell Ciorstaidh or Agnieszka never mind pronounce them.  She prefers "pretty" names, although the name meanings are also quite important to her.  Needless to say we found it a bit difficult to agree, although with a little help from a book of names we managed to create a list of 19 names we both liked.

We decided that we would allow our family and some close friends to vote for our baby's name.  Democracy can sometimes produce undesirable outcomes but as we thought each of the names was perfectly good, it seemed an excellent way to have people involved in our child's life from even before she was born.  Additional benefits were also knowing what names people didn't like and being able to share with our child in the future the choices her whole family made for her.  Obvious secondary advantages include the knowledge that if - when she is older - she doesn't like her name, we have the evidence with which to blame Grandad and Auntie Suzie.

Most importantly, we wanted to involve people who are close to us - and not least to make them feel involved.   After all, they're going to play important roles in our child's life, so why shouldn't they have a say?

Of course, questions were raised between us about which electoral system should be used and what the terms of the franchise should be.  Debate raged about whether STV or AV was better (we eventually settled for the preferential system used in the Eurovision song contest, how very me!) and how old people should be before they should vote.  That was settled quite easily: anyone who can write the numbers 1 to 8 is perfectly equipped to vote.  And so everyone in our family aged from 5 upwards was sent a pink ballot form.

I must say that most people were more than happy to take part in democratically choosing the name!  The children seemed far more excited than expected, and indeed some were so thrilled by their first experiences of democracy that they can't wait to vote in a "proper" election.   Interestingly, the children seemed to get the idea of preferential voting much easier than some of their elders did.  They were also very excited about knowing the outcome and analysing the results in astonishing depth (I suspect we have some future psephologists and statisticians in the family).

We also received some very nice messages from the voters, the highlight I think being this: "How wonderful to allow us to pick your daughter's name...this is a lovely idea and Keanu [6 year old boy] was excited picking names.  All the best."

As is perhaps to be expected with preferential voting systems, strange and unexpected results can be thrown up.  Names we thought would do well did not, while others we considered to be a bit adventurous and less likely to do well proved very popular.  After everyone had made their choices the most popular six names were:

1) Xanthe   2) Emma   3=) Rebekah   3=) Heidi   5) Aaliyah   6) Charlotte

It wasn't necessarily the case that we would go with the most popular name, especially when there were very few points separating the top handful.  I have to admit preferring Heidi or Emma but eventually we agreed to abide by the express verdict of the voters!

My brother asked me "did you know you've named your daughter after a Greek football team?"  Well, there is a team (and a town) called Xanthi, but surely Xanthe is a much more unique name than Chelsea, Charlton, Everton or other clubs children sometimes share their names with.  Of course Xanthe is a Greek name, the meaning of which is "bright".  I'm pretty sure she'll live up to this in more ways than one.

So, that's the story of how we used democracy to select our girl's name.  The outcome was not what we expected, but it was terrific to have so many people involved and interested - and quite exciting tallying up the points as the forms gradually came in.  I suspect we're not going to carry the democratic principle into every aspect of our parenting though...

I am a dad!

On Saturday, at 9.59pm, a baby girl came into the world.

At the same time, other babies were being born across the globe.  This one is perhaps no more special or precious than any of the others.  There is one small difference though - little Xanthe Aaliyah has me for her dad.

Becoming a dad took me by surprise. It was one of those things that I always would have liked but became resigned to never happening.  There were reasons for this; suffice to say that Xanthe is in some ways a minor miracle.

Being a former medical student, I've seen a number of children being born.  However, the knowledge and experience that ultimately gives doesn't entirely prepare you emotionally for the time when it's your own baby.  I'm naturally quite an emotional person and, while it was wonderful to have stayed with Anna the whole time, it was mentally exhausting.

Now I hear the women among you telling me that's nothing compared to what you go through and I know you're right.  But it's still an amazing emotional rollercoaster for any dad who's present.

I am still experiencing a range of feelings two days on, but mostly tiredness.  I expect these sleepless nights are here to stay (for the foreseeable future at least) and in the next few weeks we need a bit of time to adjust to this new reality.  So I'm guessing blogging will be kept to an absolute minimum.

For now, I'll stop writing and let the photographs to the talking.