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by Stuart, Ball Street
I was going tell you about Ball Street, however I can’t let events at Ibrox pass without comment.
It’s a tale of self-destruction with a vengeance, true of all parties involved in the toxic cauldron of Scottish football. But that’s for another day. Today let me tell you a story about football and the fan.
Rangers are the club of my uncles, two of whom had heart attacks at Ibrox watching the Rangers. One sadly passed; the amazing medical staff in the ground saved the other, who was the first to take me every other week.
It’s also the club of my late father, who worked on the rebuilding of the Main Stand and salvaged the old wooden seats and fittings to craft a handsome fireplace for his living room. Every time we went to the back shops, we would occasionally stop by old Jimmy’s to see if he needed any messages. Only later did I find out that Jimmy was Jimmy Smith, scorer of 225 goals in 234 appearances for Rangers between 1928 and 1946.
I know my history. I know that a love that’s been shared by generations of my family doesn’t exist on the balance sheet of Sevco 5088. The club can’t be taken away by liquidation, player departures, rulings or the ill-feeling of others.
A football club lives only the hearts of its fans. That’s true of any club. As Kevin Drinkell said recently: “Rangers fans who were supporters yesterday will still be supporters today. That's the bottom line.”
Sure it will be hard to see the likes of Naismith and McCabe grace other arenas - they've lost their chance to be legends - but Ibrox will always have its heroes. There may well be a succession of journeymen on the horizon who might never have climbed the marble staircase, but among them will be legends that we’ll still talk about in years to come.
Like many others, I’ve long said we should start over in Division Three. We should take our medicine and let others have theirs. I’ll look forward to Glasgow derbies with Queen’s Park and trips to Montrose where we holidayed as kids. And then I’ll be able to tell you more about why every league is a premier league.
According to the Royal Mail there are only six Ball Streets in the UK, all in North West England.
We didn’t live on one of those but, even though we all come from opposite ends of the country, we grew up on a ball street: a terraced arena, in footballing heartlands like Glasgow, Manchester, Luton and, er, Wakefield. Playing the game in its simplest form, where the kerb completed more passes than Iniesta.
That’s where the name Ball Street name from, but behind it lies something much bigger.
"Without fans who pay at the turnstile, football is nothing. Sometimes we are inclined to forget that."
Jock Stein, Celtic Manager 1965-1978
So they've built a brand, sold naming rights and corporate packages. But no-one in football got rich on their own. The fat cats would be nowhere without your season ticket money, the shirt on your back and the Sky subscription. Sure, the game needs money. It even needs brands. But part of the game is to be a good sport and look after the game handed down to us by our fathers. Ask yourself: are they playing fair?