Fans who have been following the trials and tribulations of the beautiful game for more years than they care to recall may be familiar with a song called ‘That’s Entertainment’, a particularly memorable number courtesy of Paul Weller’s days with The Jam.
Entertainment indeed. In all likelihood, Weller wasn’t referring to football, but hearing the tune on the radio the other day served to remind how, as we enter what is commonly referred to as the business end of the football season, the sheer entertainment value rises with each passing match. The scent of silverware entices those with more than a cursory interest in the destiny of the big prizes for this season.
Sir Alex Ferguson famously called it ‘squeaky bum time’, the assumption being that these bowel-loosening times separate the men from the boys, as the battle becomes one of who can hold their nerve when within sight of the finishing line. In that regard, however, the entertainment value in the SPL has been something of a disappointment, as this strangest of league seasons draws to a close.
In truth, the race for the flag has been more stifled yawns than squeaky bums, in no small measure due to Rangers’ plunge into administration, and Celtic’s simultaneous dominance since the turn of the year. In recent years, we’ve feasted more often than not on a diet of last-game-of-the-season dramas, as the Old Firm went head to head in the so-called helicopter Sundays.
And now, well, it’s all over before the April showers have relented, and we have to make do with the column inches being devoted to the Ibrox soap opera, and the competence (or otherwise) of our beloved match officials.
Perhaps former Hibernian manager Bobby Williamson saw this coming, when, a few seasons back, he lamented that anyone wishing entertainment should go to the cinema instead. The inference, of course, was that football is an exclusively results-based business, and the quality of product pales into insignificance compared with winning (or, in Williamson’s case, not losing) football matches.
It could be suggested that Bobby didn’t exactly hold much sway in the manner of influencing our football – he was last heard of trying and failing to secure Uganda a place at the African Nations’ Cup, so he’ll at least have plenty of time on his hands to indulge himself in the latest Hollywood offerings – but he was a visionary if nothing else.
After all, if the number of empty rows to be seen in the stands at Easter Road on a Saturday afternoon is anything to go by, Hibs fans took his advice very seriously indeed.
We’ve obviously relied far too heavily on Celtic and Rangers to provide our ration of entertainment at the season’s end in the past, and this could be a bitter taste of the next few seasons to come if Rangers fail to get their act together. (Something that looks even more likely in light of the 12 month transfer embargo the club is facing as of today)
To be fair, the east coast has attempted to plug the gap somewhat, with Hibs and Hearts set to contest the first all-Edinburgh Scottish Cup final since 1896. Even the most battle-hardened, liver-pickled Old Firm fan might come to recognise that this will provide a refreshingly different perspective for us to muse over. And, whisper it, it just might prove to be an entertaining cup final into the bargain.
Whatever the case, we can’t help but gaze jealously southwards, and the stark contrast of a title run-in which should whet the appetite of most aficionados. Manchester’s big two are battling it out to be Premiership champions, and that particular race looks as if it just might go down to the wire.
Even the race for the fourth Champions League place is anything but decided as the final fixtures hove into view. Providing a timely reminder that there needs to be something at stake to really get the blood pumping, and the veins housed within the temples pulsing faster than Fergie’s jaws clamping on a strip of juicy fruit.
Squeaky bum time? That’s entertainment, folks.