MAKING A DOG'S BREAKFAST OF MOTORWAY MENUS

BY JIM BLACK

NEVER mind who killed Cock Robin. Forget about who framed Roger Rabbit. What I want to know is who is responsible for the disappearance of Little Chef?

The perpetrator of this ghastly crime should be hanged, drawn and quartered.

Where once Little Chef could be seen adorning the frontage of prefabricated buildings serving as enticing eating places for the weary traveller, from John O’Groats to Lands End, now stands monuments to the 21^st Century’s new age of fast food joints and coffee houses.

Having recently completed the near 1,200 mile return journey from Inverness to London I confess to having lost the will to live at various moments in my quest to find an establishment that actually serves good, wholesome food – the sort that leaves you with a feeling of contentment.

The early starter, the all day breakfast, the Olympic breakfast, sausage and mash, pie of the day; all have been replaced by tasteless burgers, supermarket fodder for food luvvies and pre-packed sandwiches full of disgusting concoctions ranging from ham, mayonnaise and dill to egg with cress and cold crispy bacon and sausage. I wouldn’t feed most of it to a starving dog for fear of offending the animal’s taste buds!

We are assured by Alex Salmond’s rapidly expanding food police that such offerings are far healthier than a traditional fry-up. Maybe, but I would prefer to be given the choice between eating a meal that satisfies certain cravings when you are driving hour after hour than one that tastes like it’s been made from sawdust and pigeon droppings.

Not that I appear to have much say in the matter, judging by my experience of trying to find desirable sustenance on Britain’s motorway network.

Just for a moment I thought I had cracked it on the journey south when I spotted a sign informing that I was approaching a Road Chef at the Sandbach Services in Cheshire. Not so.

Road Chef would seem to me to imply exactly that, food prepared by a chef or chefs. Instead, when I enquired as to exactly where this facility was located in the complex I was informed by the young lady serving behind the Costa Coffee counter that I had a choice of her establishment or McDonalds. Not wishing to dine on packets of biscuits, slabs of cake or cardboard Panini, I opted for a Big Mac.

To be fair, choice is not limited to Costa or McDonalds. For those who wish to turn their comfort break into a shopping expedition, there is also the choice of Waitrose or M&S at some service areas.

Do me a favour. What are you supposed to do; purchase a loaf of bread, a packet of ham, a jar of coffee, a pint of milk and a set of cutlery? Evening officer, the reason I’ve parked up on the hard shoulder is to prepare my evening meal. You don’t happen to have a kitchen table and a kettle on you, by any chance?

I could go on listing my many complaints, but what’s the point? Little Chef is almost no more and we’re stuck with sub-standard alternatives.

But there is at least one bastion of good, old fashioned cooking – The Ballinluig Services in the Perthshire village of the same name, just off the A9, where they serve traditional grub.

And while I am on the subject of traditional food, why the hell can you no longer seem to get a roll and ham or a plain egg roll without any of the other gunge included? I’m sure the Ballinluig Services do them, so why do other outlets simply refuse to cater for those of us who enjoy their food plain and simple?

No, don’t bother replying as I have neither the will nor the patience to listen to some sort of cack handed explanation about nutritional values.

Just so long as the Ballinluig Services continue to flourish there remains a glimmer of hope and a refuge from the average speed cameras the SNP’s appallingly arrogant and self important Minister for Transport Keith Brown assures us will make the A9 a safer track.

But that’s another rant for another day.

EXPLOITATION AT THE RYDER CUP: CALLING MR ALEX SALMOND

BY BRYAN COONEY

IT’S possibly injudicious to write about your relatives on a public platform such as this, but lack of judgment seems to form a stout branch of the family tree, so here goes.

Today, I ’m concentrating on what I consider to be exploitation, and also the autumnal madness of my Chicago-based brother- in-law.

Alejandro Gonzales, aka Alex, is a volunteer (one of around 1,800, or so) for this year’s Ryder Cup in September. I’m still wondering whether he has forfeited his wits.

But, before highlighting the plight of the less than privileged key workers at Gleneagles, it’s necessary to paint a picture of a rather incredible and impressive man who, it must be stated, has not uttered one single word of complaint about what’s ahead of him.

At 82 years of age, Alex is a former oil company executive who declares himself quite captivated by the game of golf. As a player, he’s Mr Average in that he’ll never be a reincarnation of Lee Trevino but, there again, he will assuredly never witness the indignity of the number 24 attached to his handicap.

He takes his allegiance to the sport further by dedicating some of his leisure time to the professional game: he’s been a steward at two Ryder Cups, a US Open and quite a few other big tournaments. It allows him, he says, to be close to his heroes. You cannot curb enthusiasm like that, it seems.

But now it’s time to study the exploitative nature of this year’s biennial bun fight between Europe and America. We’ll vote for fairness and start with the one perk afforded volunteers. Most of them work a four-hour shift - and then are permitted to watch the proceedings in their downtime. Now, ain’t that cute?

But prepare yourselves for the negatives. Firstly, workers are expected to pay in the order of £65-70 for their uniforms, which comprise a windcheater, polo shirt and cap.

Surely they are remunerated in other ways? A daily wage, for instance? Er, not so as you would notice. Other than a £15 daily voucher for food and drink, they won’t receive a hillock of beans, far less a hill, for their efforts. Neither, it‘s claimed, are they given an allowance for travelling to Perthshire.

While we’re at it, let’s count the ancillary costs of being a volunteer. Whilst the panjandrums of the competition are firmly ensconced in the luxury of Gleneagles - no doubt contemplating the millions of pounds of profit - the worker ants must scurry around finding their own accommodation. Again, they must pay for this themselves.

To ease this potential burden, Alex originally considered staying at a hotel in nearby Crieff, but was deterred by the prohibitive cost of £200 a night. So, he will stay in Glasgow at approximately £60 a night and make a daily 100-mile round trip in order to perform his duties in the merchandising marquee. Remember, we’re talking about an octogenarian here.

Overall, the cost to his pocket will be equally disturbing: at a conservative estimate, his trip from America will cost him two or three thousand pounds, possibly more.

Now, let me underline again that my brother-in-law’s lips are sealed against recrimination. When I say that the organisers are taking an almighty liberty with willing hands, Alex prefers diplomacy.

“It doesn’t bother me, fortunately,” he responds. “I’m retired and in a (financial) position to do it. Hey, I’m still blessed with the memory of Medinah. Now that came as a complete surprise.

“I’ll always remember that the Europeans were so happy - meanwhile I think the Americans took it in their stride: I didn’t see any confrontations. I don’t think we’ll ever see another ending like that one.”

Alex is not getting off that easily, though. I press him again for a reaction and am rewarded with a token victory. “Oh, I suppose I’d like to see some additional benes (benefits) for the volunteers. We do work hard and try to make it as smooth as possible.”

So what benes would be acceptable? “Oh, okay, the ball swings towards the Ryder Cup group as far as being able to take advantage of myself and others. But, hey, by the same token, if I weren’t there, it would be very easy to fill my shoes. I understand 18,000 people volunteered. That gives you an idea how many people out there want to do this.”

That may be so, but who expects a man to work for nothing in this age of corporate activity and insatiable greed? It is exploitation by any name you can conjure.

There are no firm figures regarding what the European Tour as organisers expect to make from this year’s competition, but I do know that, back in 2006, the K Club in Dublin is said to have cleared £10million after the taxman had deliberated.

They say Gleneagles will generate £100million, so you can take that as around £20 million of clear profit.

Wouldn’t it be nice if each and every one of those volunteers from all over the world went back home with a small but well-earned bonus. Plus a pleasant memory of their time in Scotland?

I’m no actuary, but my instant calculations say it would take just over one and a quarter million pounds to do that. Small potatoes, indeed, considering the crop.

Now, I understand the Scottish Government was highly instrumental in bringing the competition back to Scotland. Perhaps another Alex - the one called Salmond, can supply a rescue package.

Mr Salmond positively thrives on being seen and heard at big events; I also imagine he believes in fairness. What a chance for him to flourish his true mettle.

He could step in and demand justice for the underprivileged of Ryder Cup golf. Surely, it's not beyond him in this year of destiny?

LAWWELL MAY FOLLOW LENNON OUT OF PARKHEAD

BY ANDY RITCHIE

I WAS spot on when I was the first to reveal that Neil Lennon would be leaving Celtic.

Followers of No Grey Areas were tipped off weeks ago that Lennon was poised to quit. Now I believe a second high profile figure may soon follow Lennon out of Celtic Park – chief executive Peter Lawwell.

The majority shareholder Dermot Desmond wants Roy Keane as Lennon’s successor and I believe that could hasten Lawwell’s departure.

Why do I think that? My gut instinct is that Keane wouldn’t be Lawwell’s preferred choice. Keane doesn’t strike me as the sort who is prepared to compromise and take instructions. I also get the distinct impression that when he sets his mind on doing something, he’s unshakable.

Lennon was Lawwell’s man. Keane is Desmond’s and I suspect there would be an inevitable clash of personalities.

It’s no secret either that Lawwell has been touting himself for high-powered chief executives roles with Premiership clubs. He was keen on the Arsenal job and there have been one or two others.

So, watch this space, and remember who told you first when there are further changes at the top at Celtic.

To be honest, I do think Lawwell really wanted to do more to try to persuade Lennon to stay. I believe he had already made his mind up that next season would be Lennon’s last and it suited him when the manager announced he was quitting.

No great effort was made to persuade Johan Mjallby to stay and it was made clear that other changes were required in the coaching staff, including Garry Parker leaving.

I reckon Lawwell thought the treble was a gimme, given how little pressure there is on Celtic at the moment domestically.

Lawwell expected a clean sweep of honours and losing to Morton in the League Cup and going out of the Scottish Cup to Aberdeen constituted major disappointments.

So, no great effort was made to keep Lennon. Significantly, there has been no gnashing of teeth or wailing from within in the wake of the announcement.

At least that was the feeling I got and I am sure Lennon read all the signs and reacted accordingly.

But if he’s honest with himself, he’ll probably reflect that he should have acted sooner when his stock was at its highest in the wake of Celtic beating Barcelona and qualifying for the last 16 in the Champions League.

If Keane does get the job I expect he’ll shake the place up and the fact that there are no credible challengers to Celtic’s dominance in the SPFL and Rangers are still stumbling around in the wilderness would probably make the transition fairly straightforward.

But while Desmond would be quite happy to see Keane in charge, I don’t think Lawwell would share that feeling.

Lennon was Lawwell’s man and he had to put up with a lot. Keane does not fit into the same category, in my opinion.

But, let’s be perfectly frank, the Honey Monster could move into the Celtic dug-out at the moment and be expected to win the treble.

But,  judging by their initial reaction to the news, whether the fans feel the same way about Keane is a different matter entirely.

IAN BROADLEY: AN APPRECIATION OF A FINE JOURNALIST

BY JIM BLACK

SCOTTISH sports journalism has lost one of its few remaining characters following Ian Broadley’s sudden death at his home in Aberdeen. He was 72.

Ian, from Dumbarton, was a newspaper man of 50 years standing and, during his time as the Herald’s golf writer, reported on all four major championships as well as the leading European Tour events and local championships.

He was also employed by the Daily Record in Glasgow and the north east as a football writer for more than 20 years after graduating from local newspapers to the news desk of the Scottish Daily Express in the early 1960s.

Immediately prior to joining the Herald, Ian also worked for the ill-fated Sunday Scot newspaper, which closed after just a few months. In more recent years he operated as a freelance sportswriter in his adopted city of Aberdeen, reporting on the Dons for several national newspapers.

During his long and distinguished career, Ian covered Aberdeen’s most successful years under Sir Alex Ferguson and, prior to that, Eddie Turnbull and Billy McNeill.

Know as “Bonesy” or “Broads” to his closest colleagues, Ian was a larger than life character famous for his fiery temperament which brought him into conflict with football players, managers, golfers and colleagues in equal measure. Mercifully, his bark was often worse than his bite and underneath his at times gruff exterior beat a generous heart.

Ian never minded putting himself out to accommodate colleagues visiting Aberdeen and enjoyed sharing a drink and exchanging stories with them. But woe be tide those who crossed him. They were not easily forgiven, if Ian believed he was the victim of injustice.

A man with strong principals, Ian’s spats with various football managers are the stuff of legend and earned him the respect of his colleagues and those involved in the game.

He was once famously challenged by the then Aberdeen manager Eddie Turnbull to settle their differences behind Gleneagles Hotel on the eve of the 1967 Scottish Cup final. There is no record of blows being thrown, but the incident highlighted Ian’s refusal to bow down to those in authority if he felt he had been wronged.

Sir Alex Ferguson recalled: “I had many arguments with him over the years but I could never get angry. I never fell out with him which says a lot when you consider my battles with the press.”

A talented golfer himself with a low single figure handicap at his peak, Ian was a member of Murcar Golf Club.

Paul Lawrie, the former Open champion, said: “I have known Ian for a number of years. He covered golf quite a bit when I first went to America after winning the Open and I got to know him.

“He also played golf at Deeside, where I play with my boys when I am at home, and I used to see him out playing in the evenings. He was a good journalist for a long time so we will miss him.”

Always good company and a man of wit and a rare ability to laugh at himself, Ian was a member of both the Association of Golf Writers and the Scottish Football Writers’ Association.

He had genuine warmth and he was a loyal and supportive colleague and friend, and in an age when new technology has replaced many of the previous working practices, he remained an old school type of reporter with the ability to ask the right questions and elicit a response.

Ian will be sorely missed by all those who knew him. He is survived by his widow Margaret and his sons John and Gavin.

NO GREY AREAS MAKES NEW SIGNING

NO GREY AREAS has made an exciting new signing...17-year-old freelance sports journalist Ben Palmer.

Ben’s Blog will be a regular feature and is the young voice of the website.

So, who is Ben Palmer?

Brought up in Buckie, Morayshire, Ben began covering sports from as wide a geographical area as Wick to Wigtown – before he was the legal age to drive.

A keen golfer, Ben hopes to one day cover both golf and football on a regular basis, but says his sports mind is not as narrow as may seem. His passion is greater for writing on sports of all varieties, rather than just watching his two preferred.

He started sports writing at the tender age of 13 – covering the Highland League – but has continued to climb the metaphorical ladder and has written for an array of Scottish national newspapers, including The Press & Journal, Sunday Mail and The Times.

So far in his career he has won “The Herald and Daily What News Schools Journalist of the Year 2012” and was also selected as part of the Future News event in Glasgow, 2014. This event rounded up 100 young journalists from across the Commonwealth and taught the fundamentals required in modern day journalism.

Having only just completed his Secondary education at Buckie High School – at which he was Head Boy in his final year – Ben is about embark on a four year University course before, hopefully, sculpting a career writing the back pages of newspapers.

Meantime, don’t miss his weekly blog, starting with his frank assessment of the state of Scottish football at the top level.

BY BEN PALMER

LA LIGA  and the Barclay's Premier League. Arguably the two top leagues in world football quality wise; certainly from an economic dynamic.

Questions have been raised on the ethics in either of these leagues recently. Man City look set to be fined 60 Million Euros for breaching the Financial Fair Play regulations, whereas Spain's crippling problems with racism continue to increase.

Beneath the blurred surroundings in which these leagues are played though, is still the fundamental trait mandatory for the top football leagues in the world: excitement.

Atlético Madrid won their first league title since 1996 – on the last day of the season in a winner takes all affair with Barcelona – and Manchester City won the English edition in similar circumstances, defeating West Ham. Not quite in the Hollywood style climax La Liga enjoyed, but a fitting finale nonetheless.

Essentially, these two leagues continue to flourish, continue to captivate and ooze excitement year after year. The spectators of each are lavished with sheer quality continuously.

In Scotland, however, we are being told that we have just experienced the most exciting season in years. That seemingly positive comment is merely a sad indictment of our nation’s number one sport.

The game, according to some, is blossoming, all because neither Celtic nor Rangers partook in a cup final.

Sure, it's great that we've been treated to St Johnstone winning the Scottish Cup and Aberdeen the League Cup - two formidable tasks - but the assessment that this is portraying this past season of Scottish football as being exciting is laughable.

The début Scottish Premiership season was a sham. Celtic being engraved as champions could have been done last summer, and Hearts were always condemned to relegation having to toil through a season with a bunch of teenagers and a 15 point deduction.

The main trophy in Scottish football never even had realistic potential to conceive excitement. The two most important positions in the league table had been determined before the leaves had started to drift off the trees; the period in the season where a team’s potential should become recognised.

Whilst Dundee United displayed sprinklings of their now recognised youthful zest, it didn't really matter at all in the context of the league – they would never win it.

Their developing of young Scottish talent did plant a seed of hope for the game as a whole, but their parabola of a second half of a season – rounding off with a Scottish Cup final defeat - means that we must wait longer to see it produce the desired results.

Admittedly there was tension, excitement for a pessimist, at the bottom end of the league. Hibs downfall and tussle with Partick Thistle and Kilmarnock for the relegation play-off place grabbed attention.

But does that mean a season of Scottish football has been exciting because one of the biggest clubs in the country has sunk in a manner of Titanic proportions? Absolutely not.

Teams tussling for the league title is exciting; teams having a hope of escaping relegation is exciting; our clubs battling it out in Europe is exciting - Hibs having a bunch of incompetent footballers does not constitute exciting.

With this, I am not saying Scottish football is in an inescapable cul-de-sac. It is the proclaiming of this past season as the most exciting in years that I must refute.

Scottish football has perhaps enjoyed a better year; Aberdeen fans being thrown back to the 80's was a fun period, and Motherwell's steadiness is reassuring, but we must let the game reach its peak before we jump on our stallion and shout from the roof tops.

Will we remember the dogged battle Hibs have fought in 10 years time? Probably not. Will we remember La Liga's most thrilling conclusion in a decade? Absolutely.

Let's just settle ourselves down and leave the superlatives to the games that deserve it. With the progression we are currently making, it may not be long before we merit it ourselves.

FROM HERE TO OBSCURITY

By Andy Ritchie

THE gurus/gorillas at No Grey Areas have asked me to comment on the madness of the traditional managerial shuffle in both England and Scotland.

Well, this particular shuffle threatens to turn into a stampede. It began some weeks ago with the ousting of Malky Mackay at Cardiff and Davie Moyes at Manchester United, and has since gathered momentum.

And just think, we’re only just going into the close season, the traditional time for reassessing positions.

We’ll return to Malky (and his unreserved apology to Cardiff owner Vincent Tan) in a minute. I’m gonna start with one directly out of left field: my forecast is that Guy Poyet will leave Sunderland and go to West Ham.

For that to happen, of course, Sam Allardyce, would have to leave Upton Park. He’s the man, remember, whose name is inevitably on the lips of every chairman who sees his club disappearing down the nearest plughole.

But, since he’s managed to haul West Ham away from that plughole, I suppose he’s sort of expendable. So, enter the impressive Uruguayan, the wizard of Wearside. Well, that’s my reading of the situation - I trust myopia is not overtaking me!

I think that Poyet may have made the decision eight to ten weeks ago, even when he thought that Sunderland had no chance of wiping its feet on the welcome mat of the Premier Division next season. Alongside that, he maybe discovered that this wasn’t the club that he thought it was.

Let’s be circumspect and say he would have suspected that West Ham were looking to make changes, and it went on from there. Anyway, it wouldn’t be the world’s greatest surprise to see him installed in East London next season.

I’ll return to the Stadium of Light soon. First, let’s take a trip down White Hart Lane. It seems Mauricio Pochettino will shake the hand of Tottenham’s executioner-in-chief, Daniel Levy, any day soon - provided he starts speaking in English, of course.

Hey, my information is that the Argentinian’s English is very good. Why he refuses to do it on television is anyone’s guess. Even people who are close to his situation at Southampton don’t understand it.

Maybe it’s to keep a shield between himself and the public; maybe it’s to avoid being, er, misquoted. The laugh is that he’s responding to an English question in his own language before the interpreter has finished translating.

Anyway, should Pochettino take the Levy shilling and start speaking the Queen’s, there will be a vacancy at Southampton, a club due to lose players like Luke Shaw and Adam Lallana. The rumour is that Harry Redknapp might fancy a return to the south coast.

It didn’t go too well for old ’Arry last time, when I believe he entered conflict with a certain Sir Clive Woodward. The rugby guru, evidently, had a hotline to the chairman’s ear at the time and that was never going to be the ideal situation.

Why would Harry want to leave QPR? Might I suggest that the aroma of a ten-pound note might have something to do with it? Hey, if Harry was getting more money to return to Bournemouth, he’d be right up there with the ice cream sellers on the prom.

The Championship play-offs will determine all, I’d imagine. If Rangers don’t make it, hauling your arse up and down the road to faraway places with strange names like Huddersfield doesn’t quite hold the same allure.

Still, I don’t think it’s tablets of stone stuff yet. Southampton may very well have gone beyond the stage of Harry Redknapp. They would maybe like to bring in someone of the same ilk as Pochettino.

Many jobs could be up for grabs, It seems to be the way of the Premier world. A run of good results makes a man the flavour of Belgian chocolate, a run of bad ones puts him under pressure and there’s no safety net.

Davie Moyes (alias Billy McMoyes) knows that better than anyone. I suspect that, having sampled the white sands of Mauritius, or wherever, he’ll be ready to return and he’ll get a job again, no danger.

He won’t penetrate the top six again at the moment, so it’ll be Newcastle or Aston Villa. It’s suffice to say that I don’t think Paul Lambert will start next season as manager of Villa. The new people won’t want a regime that was less than successful.

The majority of these changes are the product of poor results, but the fall-out between Malky Mackay and Vincent Tan ran a lot deeper. Cardiff were in a position of safety when Mackay left them. So now a settlement (did he get any money?) has been made and a fulsome apology thrown into the mix.

As far as we know, there was nothing for which to apologise, so why would you do so? I don’t suppose we’ll ever really know the real story: it’s just one of the many unexplained tales that surround this game. Anyway, Mackay is now clear to take another job, and I expect him to go to West Brom very shortly.

Meanwhile, up here in Scotland but not, maybe, for very much longer lingers the Neil Lennon situation. There will be positions open to him down south - Norwich in the Championship and Sunderland in the Premier Division.

Take your pick. My message to sports journalists is see that you don’t run out of ink. There’s a lot more to come.

There are questions marks over the futures of Terry Butcher, John Hughes and also Jackie McNamara. Blackpool has gone, but will the lure of the Championship prove too strong for him?

Finally, I come to my old club, Morton. Who will be the next manager? I’m stumped with this one at the moment: give me 64,000 dollars and I still couldn’t tell you. All I’ll say is this: after Allan Moore and Kenny Shields, who will be the next one that the chairman plucks out of notoriety and plunges into obscurity?

MCINNES NOT FIT FOR FERGIE'S SHOES JUST YET

By Bryan Cooney

THIS somewhat deranged world of Scottish football is occasionally predisposed towards wild exaggeration.

The Highland News, for instance, recently reported that Inverness CT manager John Hughes had drawn comparisons between his prolific striker, Billy McKay, and the little guy employed to do similar business for FC Barcelona: Lionel Messi.

No, this is not a misprint. You imagine McKay pulling the duck-feather duvet over his head when he read that one. Can you imagine the stick he received when he next popped that head around the dressing room door at the Tulloch Caledonian Stadium?

Anyway, a similar form of hyperbole was employed in Aberdeen recently when Stewart Milne and some of his acquaintances from the business community toasted the club’s League Cup victory.

Now, aside from an impressive flourish of solidarity from over 40,000 fans, it had been a less than convincing conclusion at Hampden. The Dons just about crawled over the line, extra time and penalties being required to deny the muscular challenge of the aforementioned Inverness.

Yet the jubilation within Milne, no doubt encouraged by the massive turn-out in the city for the homecoming, was unconfined. I understand he astounded his chums by announcing that, in Derek McInnes, he’d found a manager who belonged to the same league as Alex Ferguson.

That statement put the chairman so far over the top that he effectively joined the space race. Had he totally lost his senses? Or, might he have been positively pixilated at the time of speaking?

Whatever, some form of empathy certainly can be distributed towards the man from Alford: he has experienced several torrid years, forfeited a sizeable chunk of his £400 million fortune and, it was whispered, come close to business oblivion.

His record as a football leader, meanwhile, has been so impoverished that it was comparable with the UK’s annual performance in the Eurovision Song contest. Eight managers in 19 years: that’s infiltrating the pedigree of real estate owned by the likes of Daniel Levy and Rod Petrie.

Still, with economic growth encouraging legitimate expectations and the building empire and bank balance rapidly replenishing themselves, Milne at last had discovered a man who certainly knew his way around the sporting block.

But does the fact that McInnes has won a League Cup and finished third in the Premiership, comprehensively outflanked by Celtic and marginally by Motherwell, mean they’ll be singing loud hosannas in the Granite City from here on in? It’s a possibility but some way from a probability.

Does it mean it’s acceptable to mention McInnes and Ferguson in the same sentence? No, it’s not. Listen, it’s impossible to imagine anyone taking such a claim seriously. Least of all the pragmatic McInnes.

However, there is a suggestion that the dual winner of the Manager of the Year awards is already fashioning himself in the image of the great man.

He appears to have adopted the unfortunate trait of phoning up those journalists who are not tuned into his personal wavelength. Anyone daring to query his tactics or his choice of playing personnel are liable to be in receipt of an assault of the auditory system.

Last week, it’s claimed that the phone lines between Glasgow and the South were particular busy. Radio pundit Allan Preston seemingly voiced his reservations about McInnes winning the manager awards and was rewarded with a few minutes of vituperation. From what I hear, Preston, alias The Biscuit, insisted on biting back.

Look, this is not a campaign on behalf of the media - its representatives are robust enough to look after themselves. But just remember, despite what many fans think, most of those reporters do their jobs as objectively and honestly as possible. Most of them are inveterate fans themselves.

But how robotic would we be if there was agreement on every citizen’s lips? This country still preserves its reputation as a democratised society: it is not Putin’s Russia, And, because of that, everyone is entitled to their beliefs, even it if conflicts with others.

Perish the thought that anyone should be stripped of his or her opinion by any football manager, no matter his status.

Many fans are unlikely to agree with these observations because of an inherent dislike of the media, But the habit into which McInnes is falling is ill advised, Taking issue in this manner tells you a lot about a man. It represents hubris and arrogance. But it can also suggest insecurity and paranoia.

None of these things look good on the figurative C.V. of an ambitious young thruster. And I suspect this young man is bristling with ambition.

Now, I introduced myself very briefly to McInnes at Sunday’s football writers’ dinner. I was immediately impressed. He’s a clean-cut, articulate figure who has taken on the good work initiated by Craig Brown and Archie Knox and directed the team onto the next platform.

Most fans have bought wholeheartedly into his style, after their initial suspicions. The popular mantra has now become: In McInnes We Trust. There remain a few worrying issues, however.

Being a Dons fan for 60 years and more, I told him that I was a great admirer of his team. I could have said a lot more had the situation been more appropriate. Asked him a few questions.

For instance, who recommended that Calvin Zola should ever wear an Aberdeen jersey, and how much research went into that signing?

Why was Gregg Wylde discarded with such haste and so little explanation?

Why is the lone striker system persevered with at home, when invariably there are two rows of double-decker buses parked just in front of the opposition’s penalty area? Why does he seem reluctant to alter tactics when a stalemate ensues?

Don’t misinterpret matters. I’m not anti-McInnes. Far from it. Overall, he’s performed so much better than most of his predecessors. A welter of fine work has been achieved and a smile is returning to the faces of the people of Aberdeen. But these faces are mercurial by nature.

Last Sunday, the Dons threatened to sweep Motherwell into the North Sea. By doing that, they’d have finished second in the Premiership. Ultimately, they were denied by a refereeing blunder of the first order, so they were left in third spot.

This was the last game of the season and it’s traditionally a festive occasion where players celebrate with the fans. But, five minutes after the final whistle, there were almost no Aberdeen fans with whom to celebrate.

McInnes should take that on board. The wind is firmly in his favour at this moment. He should harness it effectively rather than trying to fight it.

BACK STABBING IS MAKING IT A DIRTY GAME

BY JIM BLACK

FOOTBALL has become an increasingly dirty game - and I am not talking about the physical nature of the sport.

Back-stabbing and blatant wheeling and dealing by individuals out to make a quick buck at the expense of those who support the once great game has turned football into a shadowy, grainy image of its former self.

But even by the current standards of duplicity and dirty tricks, recent distasteful events have cast another dark shadow over Scottish football.

My initial instinct was to say hell mend Hearts for the club’s treatment of its former manager, Gary Locke, his backroom staff, and several players.

Likewise, St Mirren, for their treatment of Danny Lennon, and Hibs chairman Rod Petrie, for immediately distancing himself from the latest Easter Road crisis.

Rangers Football Club, meanwhile, continues to be run in a manner that beggars belief and suggests that the inmates have indeed taken over the running of the asylum!

One is tempted to hope that good fortune deserts those responsible for discarding Locke and Lennon, Petrie, for his cowardly refusal to stand up and be counted, and Rangers’ chief executive Graham Wallace and an incompetent bunch of directors - some of whom are patently unfit to hold the role – for their continued bungling.

But to do so would be disrespectful and unfeeling towards the thousands of loyal fans who follow the fortunes of the aforementioned clubs at considerable expense.

After the Hearts fans had shown a loyalty above and beyond the call of duty to keep the club alive, they were rewarded with renewed hope of a much brighter future under Ann Budge, the new owner with a successful business background.

Their optimism was sadly misplaced. Budge has shown herself to be a “Hearts-breaker” rather than a visionary.

The Budge revolution has begun with the axing of loyal staff, most notably Locke, a Jambo through and through, and man who did a quite remarkable job in largely impossible circumstances.

Hearts were never going to survive in the Premiership on the back of a 15 point deduction and a signing ban. That they managed to stave off relegation for as long as they did was largely down to Locke and his assistant Billy Brown.

They also departed Tynecastle having left behind a rich legacy of young players who, I believed, would have made Hearts a good bet to be promotion contenders next season.

Robbie Neilson has replaced Locke as first team coach. Craig Levein has been appointed to the role of director of football.

Remember Levein? He is a former Hearts footballer who achieved some success as a player, but precious little as a manager, including a disastrous and largely hugely embarrassing spell as Scotland coach.

Budge attempted to explain her betrayal of Locke and the others in a waffling statement that added insult to injury.

Bottom line is the 66-year-old so-called Queen of Hearts has behaved in a manner little better than that of a cut-throat.

She is guilty of a huge misjudgement. She emerged from her first day in charge without a shred of credit and already thousands of Hearts fans are questioning the future under the new Iron Lady.

Will she eventually hand over control, as promised? Don’t bet on it. She appears to already have been caught out in a lie when she claimed she had not spoken with Levein prior to her takeover.

But Budge will do well to remember that the majority of Hearts fans regard Locke as one of their own and will be quick to round on her if the expected renaissance fails to happen.

Personally, I would not be at all surprised if Hearts is plunged into a new crisis a year from now although I hope, for the fans’ sake, I am wrong.

Officially, St Mirren did not sack Danny Lennon they simply did not renew his contract. It was Lennon’s reward for winning the League Cup and keeping the club in the Premiership.

What more can a provincial club with limited resources expect? I know the chairman Stewart Gilmour reasonably well. Indeed, I have socialised with him and find him pleasant company. But Stewart is in danger of taking up residence in La-La Land if he imagines that his beloved Saints can do very much better under the stewardship of a different manager.

Petrie, meanwhile, is Scottish football’s Teflon Don. Having launched a verbal assault on his manager, Terry Butcher and the Hibs players for the abject failure to avoid the SPFL play-off, he conveniently forgets that he is the man who appoints and then sacks managers at a rate that is almost as dizzying as a roundabout.

So, Hibs current plight has nothing do with Petrie, then?

And, finally, Rangers – that once great club situated on Glasgow’s south-side.

There was a glorious opportunity to begin again post-David Murray and rebuild a strong foundation. Instead, those who have followed have dangerously weakened the existing one.

The general consensus is that it will take Rangers a decade to reassert themselves as a power in Scottish football, capable of challenging Celtic.

From where I’m sitting, under the present regime, that is an extremely optimistic time-scale!

UNCLE SAM'S SHAME

BY JIM BLACK

WHEN it comes to sheer hypocrisy and the practice of double standards, America leads the world.

The master race, as they like to view themselves, is quick to lecture the rest of mankind on the subjects of morality, fairness, common decency and the rule of law. Yet, Uncle Sam consistently fails miserably to practice these values.

Maybe some of you have never heard of Clayton Lockett. For those of you who haven’t, he is a deceased 39-year-old black American.

Lockett was put to death on April 29, by order of the State of Oklahoma. His crimes were truly unspeakable.

He and accomplices abducted two teenage girls (as well as a man and his baby). One of them, Stephanie Neiman, refused to say she wouldn’t tell the police, so Lockett shot her. But she didn’t die, so he then ordered his accomplices to bury her alive.

In addition to first-degree murder, Lockett was charged with conspiracy, first-degree burglary, three counts of assault with a dangerous weapon, three counts of forcible oral sodomy, four counts of first-degree rape, four counts of kidnapping and two counts of robbery by force and fear.

Lockett had previously served time for various crimes, for four years and seven years.

That Lockett was pure scum is, I suggest, not open to debate. Nor am I inviting a discussion for or against the death penalty.

But even a rabid dog deserves some compassion. Lockett received none. Indeed, the manner of his death was almost as horrific as his crimes.
It took Lockett 43 minutes to die inhumanely at the hands of the state when it botched his execution.

Apparently his death certificate states that he suffered a heart attack shortly after a failed execution by lethal injection.

Lockett was administered an untested mixture of drugs that had not previously been used for executions in the United States. Although the procedure was stopped, by then Lockett had been subjected to various forms of torture.

According to several witnesses, he writhed, groaned, convulsed and spoke during the process and attempted to rise from the execution table 14 minutes after being sedated, despite having been declared unconscious.

The time line issued by Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester makes grim reading.

The first drug was administered at 6.23pm and Lockett was declared unconscious at 6.33. The execution was halted after about 20 minutes and he was pronounced dead at 7.06 due to a heart attack.

Oklahoma Department of Correction Director Robert Patton said that one of the doctors present stopped the execution after Lockett had a “vein failure”.

A subsequent report showed Lockett’s execution was halted 33 minutes after it began, his vein collapsed as the drugs were administered. A doctor said there were not enough drugs left and that Lockett had not been given enough drugs to cause death, adding that there were not enough drugs to continue.

Oklahoma Governor Mary Fallin had strongly pushed for the execution to take place despite the lack of standard drugs. Oklahoma officials, for their part, testified that the drugs to be used had been legally obtained and had not expired. However, they refused to divulge the source of these drugs.

It is not difficult to understand why the State has refused to disclose basic information about the drugs used with such catastrophic consequences.

Put plainly, Clayton Lockett’s treatment was barbaric and inappropriate in a so-called civilised society.

The idea of actually spectating while a victim is put to death also surely clashes with basic humanity and dignity.

As a nation of animal lovers we Brits would not tolerate for a moment the idea of putting a dog to death with such barbarism, let alone turn the event into a glorified “peep show” viewed by a select audience.

It is not the first time execution US-style has been botched. Many other condemned prisoners have died in an appalling manner at the hands of the State.

President Obama is said to be deeply troubled by the ghastly events of McAlester carried out in the name of justice. I’ll bet he is.

Uncle Sam should hang his head in shame before choosing to take the moral high ground and lecture other nations.

DON’T BREAK JAMBO GARY’S HEART, ANN

BY ANDY RITCHIE

THE buzz is that Craig Levein is set to return to Tynecastle as manager under the new regime.

If so, it will be an act of sheer madness. Hearts are on a roll under Gary Locke and the signs are extremely encouraging.

Locke is a Jambo through and through. I’m sure if you cut him he would bleed maroon.

He knows the club inside, out and he’s respected. The fans want him to stay and, more importantly, so do the players.

Several of them have come out publicly to pledge their support and that tells you the manager has the respect of the dressing room.

Consider the facts. Hearts were behind the eight ball right from the very start. Financial turmoil, the threat of liquidation, a 15 point deduction for going into administration, and a signing ban before a ball had even been kicked.

What hope did they have of avoiding the drop? Not a snowball’s chance in hell. It was always just a question of when their fate would be sealed.

That must have been extremely demoralising for all concerned. The psychological damage of knowing they had to win six matches just to put points on the board must have been huge.

It was as if once the death sentence had been pronounced all that remained was for the date of execution to be set.

But Hearts earned several reprieves before being forced to bow to the inevitable and that says much about the spirit in the camp.

It would have been easy for the players to have thrown in the towel and given it up as a bad job. Instead, they rolled their sleeves up and tried to achieve the virtually impossible and Locke must have been the inspirational force.

Just imagine if Hearts had begun their current remarkable revival six games sooner. We might have been talking about the Great Escape.

As it is, Hearts are heading for the Championship with all guns blazing and Rangers will do well to avoid a bullet or two next season.

I am not saying Hearts will sweep straight back into the top flight, but they’ll certainly be a handful.

Circumstances forced Locke to give the youngsters their head and they are a year older and wiser and less prone to naivety and basic errors.

Young players are also resilient and the recent winning run will have boosted their confidence no end.

There’s no shortage of talent either as far as I can see. Locke clearly has an eye for spotting potential and he’s exploited that talent.

So, what would be the point in changing the manager before Locke has even had a chance to test himself on a more even playing field?

He deserves another season at least for the splendid job he has done during one of the most difficult and testing periods in Hearts’ history.

 So, my message to Ann Budge is this: Stick with what you have rather than risk fresh instability.

Talk of instability, what the hell’s going on at my old club Morton?

One truly did fly over the cuckoo’s nest when Kenny Shiels oversaw a humiliating 10-2 defeat at Hamilton.

Kenny fancies himself as a psychologist. After that result the entire management team and players should have been forced to consult a shrink.

At least Shiels did the honourable thing and fell on his sword - or at least we are told he resigned. But it was clearly one of those ones - jump before you’re pushed!

The signing of Garry O’Connor alone was grounds enough for being given the sack. Those amongst the older generation of Morton fans who questioned my fitness and training methods must be misty eyed at the memory of the goals I scored when they look at O’Connor.

But while Shiels was culpable, players and officials must also shoulder part of the blame for the club’s dramatic decline – even the chairman.

Douglas Rae has done a lot for the club and deserves due credit from the people of Greenock. Without his financial support, Morton might well have ceased to exist.

But he appointed Shiels in the first place and bought into Kenny’s mumbo jumbo so can’t escape criticism.

But I’ve heard on the grapevine that Morton is going to remain full-time next season and that’s heartening if it is the case.

However, I fear for the long term future of the club, for they aren’t going to find it easy to claw their way out of League One.

Attendances have plummeted in the wake of this season’s results and it’s going to be extremely difficult regaining the confidence and support of the locals.