`IT'LL NO WORK'

A high-minded initiative to stamp out Glasgow

soccer bigotry will fail, says Alan Cochrane,

because that's what so many of the fans go for

A FEW years ago, Alexander Hesketh, then Government Chief Whip in the House of Lords, was a guest of his friend David Murray, chairman of Glasgow Rangers FC, at the club's Ibrox stadium for a match against their arch-rivals, Celtic.

Lord Hesketh was much interested and not a little amused to hear the favourite song of the Rangers fans, bellowed out with gusto by the Ibrox legions. It went thus (to the tune of 'She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain'):

Would you like a chicken supper, Bobby Sands?

Would you like a chicken supper, Bobby Sands?

Would you like a chicken supper, y' filthy Fenian fucker, Would you like a chicken supper, Bobby Sands?

Lord Hesketh is an English Catholic with ancient Scottish roots on his mother's side. This macabre ditty at the expense of a dead IRA hunger-striker was his first exposure to the bizarre way in which the politics, tribalism and unadulterated reli- gious bigotry of Northern Ireland infest the stands of Scottish — and especially Glaswegian — football. It is not all one- way traffic. On the other side of Glasgow at Parkhead, home of Celtic, the chants are every bit as noxious. 'IRA, IRA, IRA' is a favourite war-cry of the faithful, whose stock-in-trade is the accurate rendition of every Irish republican ballad ever written. To a Martian, never mind an English aristocrat, arriving in Glasgow and finding that two sets of football supporters derive their raison d'etre from the troubles of a province in which few of them have ever even set foot would be strange indeed. But the plain truth is that the sectarianism is very much the fountain from which springs so much of the passion that inflames the rivalry between Scotland's best-known sporting clubs. And, to their everlasting shame, it is a passion which both clubs have used as a commercial tool to put bums on seats.

Celtic fans hold the Irish tricolour to be their very own banner. They worship the memory of Irish 'martyrs', and many of them actively venerate the gunmen of the Provisionals, those self-same 'heroes' who have murdered so many Scottish soldiers in the Troubles. At Ibrox, it is the flag of the Union which is carried aloft by thou- sands. They see no contradiction in alle- giance to this flag and their almost certain mass support for the Labour Party, whose devolution plans are seen by many as being a harbinger of — at the very least a dilution of the Union between Scotland and England.

Their hero is King Billy, that same King William in whose name was ordered the Massacre of Glencoe. They sing of hatred for the Pope, of Derry's Walls and of the Sash Their Fathers Wore — and not just in the bleachers, either. The anthems of religious hate are belted out with equal force by the suits and sheepskin jackets in the posh seats, too.

The poison is not as fierce as it once was — there are far, far fewer fights between the fans, thanks to the stricter segregation of the opposing factions and much, much tougher policing. And, good heavens, Rangers' former manager Graeme Souness even managed to break with the club's strict rule and sign a Catholic, Mo Johnston, a few years ago. But the bigotry lingers on.

Two weeks ago, the matter came to a head, at least in one man's mind. At the traditional New Year match between Glasgow's Old Firm, Celtic's chief execu- tive Fergus McCann decided, apparently on the spur of the moment, to call for a minute's silence from the packed Park- head crowd to honour the dead of 25 years previously, when 66 supporters — most of them Rangers fans — were killed in the so- called Stairway 13 disaster.

It was always going to be a risky venture. In the event, he got, after much pleading, almost a minute of near silence. But, according to eye-witnesses, there were embarrassing exceptions to the called-for tribute, with a minority of Celtic fans chanting 'Remember Bloody Sunday' slo- gans. Whether or not this was the sole rea- son for his subsequent action, McCann decided he'd had enough, and last week he took the Scottish sporting scene by storm and launched a unilateral offensive against bigotry. At a press conference, the Scots- Canadian millionaire lined up his manager and his entire first-team squad to rail against the iniquities of religious hatred, and promised to proselytise amongst the youth of the west of Scotland. Further, he said he would seek to identify and eject from his sta- dium fans deemed guilty of bigotry.

To outsiders — in other words, people who, like the author, are not from the west of Scotland — it seemed courageous. This was not, however, how it was received by many Glaswegians, who, while claiming that they supported his plan, patronised McCann for his naivety. 'It'll no work,' was the overwhelming conclusion of the fans, whose general view was perhaps best summed up by a certain Henry McGinty of Ibrox (where else?). He was quoted in Glasgow's Daily Record as saying, 'We have to have a bit of bigotry in the game, that's what keeps Scottish football alive and gives the game excitement.'

Across the city at Ibrox stadium, there was muted support from Rangers for McCann's initiative but no sign — at the time of writing, anyway — that the powers- that-be planned to follow suit. Said one insider, 'If we threw out everyone who sang sectarian songs, we'd be playing in an empty stadium.' Perhaps this view is the only sensi- ble one. I have great sympathy for McCann's efforts, but can anything really be done to change the way people think?

The twisted minds of both sets of sup- porters was summed up for me by an Ital- ian restaurateur, a long-time Glasgow resident. He surprises everyone by, as a Catholic, supporting Rangers. A few months ago he travelled to Turin to see Rangers get well and truly thumped (4-1) in the European Champions League by Juventus.

As the game drifted to a close, one Rangers fan leapt to his feet and turned to face the Juventus fans, baying defiantly, `The Pope's got cancer and we don't care.'

My friend was amazed. He can't under- stand what the Pope's illness has to do with football. And neither can I. But there are more than a few people in Glasgow who could tell us.

Alan Cochrane is editor of the Scottish Daily Express.