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Remembering the fun…

See ball. Kick ball.

Basics.

But they matter little if you lose sight of what came before, before you even learned that much.

Wait. There was something before that?

Yes. Fun. Before that, there was fun and only fun.

We saw a little of that tonight.

I know, I know. There are those for whom soccer is the entire world. Eat, sleep, breathe. I get that. (If you doubt that I do, try to have a conversation with me that doesn’t involve the Timbers or Gers. I’m adept at turning all subjects into soccer.) I especially get that when you add in the paycheck. Eat, sleep, breath, work. Pay your bills. Feed your family. It must become maddening to know that there was a time when you were what? Six? Seven? Younger? when it was just a game you played with your friends for fun.

But it is also an incredible gift. A gift and a burden. The hopes and expectations of thousands of people rest in you and in your ability to play a game you played as a child. When you fail, we all see it. When you fail, we all feel it.

Believe me, I’m not here to launch a pity party. Oh, those poor footballers. We put so much pressure on them to perform! It must be awful! So sad.

No. They know what they signed on for. After years and years of working toward a childhood dream, here they are.

And they aren’t having any fun.

As you may have guessed, I’m not part of the “So what if we suck?” crowd. I understand the sentiment but maybe I’m too new to buy into it. Strike that. I am too new to buy into it. I still harbor a naive sentimentality, an optimism bordering on absolute insanity. I believe that my boys can win any game against any opponent.

And I’m utterly confused when they don’t.

The friendly with Aston Villa tonight came down to penalty kicks and the Timbers lost. Didn’t matter. No points were lost. It wasn’t the end of the world as we know it.

Here’s what mattered: we had fun. More importantly, our boys had fun. More of that, please.

It pains me to say it, but my optimism is starting to fade. Will we make the playoffs? I want to shout an emphatic “YES!” but the last couple weeks have left me deflated. I know I’m not alone.

A couple days ago, there was a quote from Gavin floating around, something about how he’d coached all he could and he’s just an interim coach and it’s really up to the boys to put themselves together.

Meh. Mumble, mumble, bullshit, mumble. Whatever, Gavin. If you’re not going to step in with words of wisdom, I will.

Boys, play with heart. Play for the badge. Play for your teammates. Play for the Rose City.

Most of all, play for fun. We’re all better off when you do.

 
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Posted by on July 24, 2012 in Timbers

 

I’m not ready to talk about Gavin

I’m not ready to talk about Gavin. I’m not qualified to talk about Gavin. I don’t want to talk about Gavin.

And yet, here I am: talking about Gavin. I’ll keep this short.

I asked someone about him a few days ago, a long-time Timbers supporter whose opinion I respect. He’s been here since the beginning (yes, 1975) and has seen the club through some difficult times. He remembers Gavin the player and Gavin the USL manager. And he said this:

Gavin’s in his twelfth year with the club. He should be a legend, but he isn’t.

That about sums it up, doesn’t it?

Gavin said some interesting (read:disturbing) things post-match. I can’t really criticize too much when he said there were guys out there who had quit. I’ve said the same over the last several months. Mostly, it just sounded like excuses to me. More damn excuses.

But the question posed on Twitter (you all know how I love Twitter) was this: after all these things Gavin’s said about his players, who among them really wants to play for him?

Well, guess what? They don’t just play for him.

They play for me. They play for us.

We love this team. We will continue to love this team. But we demand better than lackluster performances from a team we know is better than their record. And we demand that our manager answer for his own mistakes and make appropriate adjustments to ensure that they don’t become habits.

The rumor on Twitter is that any anti-Gavin tifo or statements will earn you a stadium ban. I don’t know if this is true but if it is, it will be just one more in a long line of poorly-considered decisions and I expect that the Timbers Army will rise up. We’ve been tested multiple times this season. I see no reason why this will be any different.

In the meantime, I still believe. Time is growing short for this team to turn a corner and make a full-on run into the playoffs. We beat Seattle, right? And San Jose? And SKC? I maintain that the possibility is still there. We just need to find and reclaim the spirit, the spark that will get us there.

Believe beyond reason. It is our calling.

“Love has a way of turning you inside out. Teasing you and leaving you anguished. And then, when it seems that hope and belief is all that’s left, love lifts you higher than ever before, allowing you to glimpse the dream. Never, ever give up. Believe beyond reason.”

That’s a little bit from Obi. Get used to seeing it. It’ll probably get dropped in here whenever I (think we) need a reminder.

 
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Posted by on July 22, 2012 in Timbers

 

Spinning the story

So, the Timbers played yesterday. It wasn’t the worst game ever played but, left to our own devices, the internet-savvy masses that comprise a large percentage of Timbers support would have spent the whole day making it a much bigger loss than it actually was.

We should have spent the day discussing the disarray our back line is in. We should have wondered out loud (or onscreen, as it were) why our bazillion-dollar striker spent so much time in the midfield or why, at one point, it appeared that he was trying out for a gig at left back. We should have been talking about why our bazillion-dollar striker-midfielder-left back looked more like a captain than the guy wearing the armband. And what was that armband, anyway? Some generic black band with white block lettering? Where’s our armband?

If nothing else, we should have spent some time extolling the virtues of dropping Eric Alexander into the middle to see what he can do there.

But we didn’t.

Because we weren’t angry enough before, what with the fired coach and controversial interim coach/gm and the wristbands and the seat-savers and the effing spiced IPA that just. won’t. go. away. Because of all these things added together and multiplied by a masterful PR stroke by the Timbers front office this morning, we lost the plot.

The email went out from the FO a little before 10 this morning, closely followed by a call to arms from the 107ist. For those out of the area (or just out of the loop), the 107ist is the organizational arm of the Timbers Army, supporters of the Portland Timbers and widely regarded as a model for supporters groups everywhere. You wanna be Timbers Army? You already are. But if you want something done, you go to the 107ist.

The Timbers front office, it appears, is gauging interest in changing the North End of Jeld-Wen Field, currently filled almost entirely by general admission seating, to some sort of reserved-GA hybrid with the possibility of a price differential between the upper and lower bowls. This comes not quite a year after they expanded general admission seating in the North End to accommodate the growing desire for tickets.

I don’t get it.

I understand that folks have complained about the long lines and the land-grab when the gates first open. I still don’t get it.

What I do get is this: without general admission in the North End, the Timbers Army wouldn’t have grown into what it is today. With 2,300+ paid members of the 107ist, 5,500 scarf-swinging crazies in the North End and, by my estimate, with more than 19,000 Timbers Army No Pity scarves sold over the years (and many of us in possession of more than one), there may be as many as 8-10,000 people who identify as Timbers Army. Let’s keep in mind that Jeld-Wen Field currently sells out at a touch above 21,000.

Hmm. Perhaps instead of talking about changing general admission seating into more reserved seating, we should be talking about further expanding GA.

No, actually, we shouldn’t. We should be talking about the team.

I don’t often stand up and yell about things the front office does. It was, after all, a partnership between the Army and the FO that got us to this place. And it should be that partnership that carries us through when the on-field product is lacking.

I see things like what’s happened with The Fort or Teddy Montoya’s lifetime ban in Colorado and I’m grateful for what we have. But with the fight over general admission seating heating up here, I’m reminded that the lack of GA has been stifling for Vancouver.

I had reserved seats last season in a faraway land called 221. The weather was lovely there though some of the neighbors were sketchy (case in point: Asshat McDoucheypants in 220, but that’s a story for another time). When the time came, we moved into the North End to take our places among our own. While I’ve considered moving out of the North End to accommodate a lingering back injury, the thought of leaving my TA family is much more painful than anything even the best health insurance would cover. And the idea that my beloved Del Boca Vista might be split if we’re prioritized by STH number is, simply, unbearable.

So, I’ve filled out the survey the FO sent me this morning. I’ve emailed my ticket rep who, bless him, is probably being bombarded by people like me. I’m writing this thing, this uneven, poorly thought out thing, that I will toss out into the inter-world. I’m doing my best to be part of the discussion without escalating the problem.

What happens now?

As of this moment, we’ve had twelve hours of the Timbers Army on high alert. The story as I know it, as told through Twitter posts from both sides, is this: the FO is looking for a change. The 107ist didn’t want the survey to go out as this is a non-negotiable piece of the TA’s identity and, if the FO isn’t intending to change the status quo, the survey would be unnecessary. The survey (incredibly biased toward making this change happen, by the way) went out and the TA is shooting back.

From accounts I’ve heard, the FO has been surprised by the pushback they’ve received thus far. They’ve spoken to the 107ist board. They were warned. Perhaps they’ve forgotten MLS2PDX. The TA is adept at mobilizing when necessary.

If you haven’t made your voice heard, now is the time to do it. Keep up the pressure. Be civil, but let them know that this is the exact wrong point at which to pick a fight with the Timbers Army.

(503) 553-5400
ticketservices@portlandtimbers.com

I was going to end here by calling on the FO to let this thing go. Tell us it was a silly idea and there really isn’t any sort of plan in the works to assign us seats and charge us more to sit in the 100s than in the 200s in the North End.

But then Merritt started posting on Twitter again. Dammit, Merritt. I’m tired.

More tomorrow. Probably.

Or maybe we’ll go back to talking about the Timbers.

 
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Posted by on July 19, 2012 in Timbers

 

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Go get ’em!

My dog has been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. Back and forth, up into the kitchen, down the hall, back to me. He’ll stand and look at me for a minute, a look I can only classify as “forlorn.” And then he’s off again. Round and round he goes.

I just told him the Timbers match tomorrow is at 1 p.m. He is deeply, deeply disturbed by this.

I didn’t think he’d react this way when I told him. He doesn’t usually watch the games. Honestly, I think he might be a Blazer fan. But, as he is unable to speak English, I don’t know for sure.

The more disturbed he is about the whole thing, the more troubled I become.

I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I’ll DVR it and stay off the net for a few hours when I should be working anyway.

But really. Who am I kidding? I’m going to be completely worthless until I know the outcome.

It’s that important.

Maybe it didn’t seem like it would be that important when MLS put out the schedule so long ago. One game in the middle of the season played at a time when a great number of Timbers supporters will have to follow Twitter updates or sneak a livestream onto their work computers. Meh.

But this could very well be pivotal for the Timbers. Every game is a must-win, but this? The first road game post-Spenny? After whatever it was that happened on Saturday?

My dog is still pacing. I just set my DVR.

I posted on Twitter/Facebook yesterday about my attempt to explain why Saturday’s loss wasn’t the fault of Timbers keeper Troy Perkins. It’s a difficult concept for some. He’s the goalie, right? It’s his whole job to make sure the ball doesn’t go in, right? Right?

Well, sure, but it isn’t really that simple.

What I like most about this team is that they are incredibly accessible. So, when I posted about trying to explain that Troy was not entirely at fault, a response came directly from one of the players, a defender, who simply said this:

It was not his fault at all. We let him down.

I have never loved a player more than I did the minute I saw that post. This. This is just one of the many reasons I love this club so deeply, so madly.

And this is why I will be a basketcase for most of tomorrow afternoon.

As I said in the Boyd post last week, I expected the next chapter of the Timbers story to be written by Kris Boyd. Then he went out, got us two goals and was named Man of the Match. I’m not sure he’s done writing yet.

What I’ll be looking for (when I finally get to watch the much-delayed match) is a defense with something to prove. They know they screwed up and at least one of them has owned up to it in what I would consider a very personal way. Heart of a lion, that one. Sometime soon, I’m sure I’ll be writing about something spectacular he’s done.

So, if you’re reading this, Unnamed Timbers Defender, go get ’em. You’re welcome at Sunday night dinner anytime.

Edit: Clearly, I wrote this last night so get off my case already about the match being today. Sheesh.

 
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Posted by on July 17, 2012 in Timbers

 

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Wait. What?

I have absolutely no idea what just happened.

The numbers keep playing in my head: 81% pass completion, 61% possession, 200 more passes than the opposing team. Three goals at home, including a brace from Boyd (I’m totally claiming credit for that, by the way).

And we still lost. Isn’t that something?

There were some fine performances on the pitch tonight. And there were some real stinkers. But I’ll leave that to the experts to break down for you.

Here’s what I saw:

I saw Kosuke Kimura. I saw him come to Jeld-Wen, ready to play. I saw, through misty eyes, his salute to team and TA when he came to the North End pre-match, pounding the badge on his chest. I will never, ever forget that.

I saw a changed team. I saw a team that dominated and took an early lead. I saw a team who let that lead slip away but, instead of giving up, dug in and did everything within their power to get it back.

In the end, their efforts were not rewarded. It was just a weird, weird game.

People are, as expected, having a pretty good go at Gavin. I get it. But I’m not there yet.

If the changes I saw take hold – stronger offense, more heart, perseverance in the face of great adversity – then we’re in for a really fun ride, indeed. And then there’s this: Gavin was a defender. I can’t imagine he’ll let what happened tonight slide.

So, I came out of a 5-3 home defeat not upset, not disappointed (as I just told someone on Twitter, I think this week has sucked all the disappoint out of me), but hopeful.

Hopeful and ready for what’s to come.

Except Kenny Miller to Vancouver. I wasn’t ready for that at all.

 
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Posted by on July 15, 2012 in Timbers

 

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What comes next.

We stand. We sing. We support.

That’s what we do.

But this feels different.

It seems the home opener was both three days ago and six years ago. The anxiety, the excitement, the anticipation. The race to get to the stadium after work. Though we’d just had the preseason tournament days before, it still felt like a homecoming. Hugs and smiles and spilled beer and the Greatest Tifo Never Seen in North America!

Three goals. Green smoke. Three points. For many, a deep sigh of contentment. This is it. This is where we start Spenny’s “34-Oh-and-Oh” season. WGWTL.

And here we are. Halfway through.

And everything feels new again. We’ve been through a lot this season and I hope I’m not alone in feeling like this is where we start over.

I’m sure a lot of folks are apprehensive. I’m sure some have given up, written this year off as a learning experience (as evidenced by some truly ridiculous posts on the Timbers FB page – DON’T EVER READ THE COMMENTS). What’s the cliche used by sports writers the world over? It’s a young team, it’s a building year….

Building year, my arse. Every year is a building year.

I was prepared for a nervous anxiety leading up to the LAG match. I was half-expecting to feel something akin to dread. Beckham. Donovan. Keane. Magee. Junihno. Hmm. Well.

I don’t feel that. I feel…ready.

Ready for a new day to dawn. Ready for my Timbers to be the team they were meant to be.

Ready for what comes next.

 
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Posted by on July 13, 2012 in Timbers

 

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A few words about Boyd.

Let’s just get this out of the way: if you think Kris Boyd’s response to Cubbie from The Oregonian is because he’s thin-skinned, you’re delusional. Boyd’s been in the game a long time and, for the love of Pete, he was a Ranger. In Glasgow. A Glasgow frickin’ Ranger. That alone should make you think twice before assuming he’s a shrinking violet.

For those of you not following along with the Twit-stupidity today, here’s a brief rundown:

The Timbers beat writer for the local paper, a man many consider a pot-stirrer of epic proportions, tweeted something I would consider, at best, stupid. He has every right to his opinions but his timing was off and his target chose, in his own way, to shoot back.

So, what did Cubbie tweet?

A thought: Ironic that the guy hyped as the savior – Kris Boyd – hastened John Spencer’s demise by blowing PK against Cal FC. ‪#RCTID‬

Someone somewhere pointed out the tweet to Boyd who, as far as anyone knows, is not on Twitter, and he took exception to it, refusing to speak to the media after today’s training session until Cubbie was excluded.

Meh.

If someone blames me for my boss getting fired and my boss is a guy I respect, a guy I moved to the other side of the world to work for, I might get a little pissy, too. Add to that the fact that I’m Kris Effing Boyd, all-time leading goal-scorer of the Scottish Premier League? Yeah, screw Cubbie.

When I caught wind of this whole thing this afternoon, I was on my break at work, sitting in the lunchroom by myself. It was in this exact place that I listened to Merritt’s statement yesterday.

What a difference a day makes.

Yesterday was doom and gloom and I felt like the world was caving in. Well, maybe not the entire world, but a least a portion of my Timbers world. Everything felt heavy and listening to Merritt’s voice break as he spoke brought tears to my eyes.

Today, I read through the tweets regarding Boyd and Cubbie and Cubbie’s friend-who-used-to-hate-soccer-before-he-liked-soccer-before-someone-hurt-Cubbie’s-feelings-and-he-threatened-to-hate-soccer-again. Tears again, but this time it was from holding in the laughter.

I didn’t stop smiling all afternoon.

Is it because of my big fan-crush on Boyd? Maybe. I love this man unreservedly. Is he the savior that Cubbie says he was supposed to be? Not yet. But he could be. Regardless, he’s turned the story from being dark storms on the horizon and the end of the world as we know it, to “Let’s all laugh at Cubbie.”

What I believe here is this: as Kris Boyd goes, so go the Timbers.

When he plays well, the team plays well. When he’s pissed, the team is pissed. He’s become the de-facto captain.

With all outward indications pointing toward the conclusion that the Timbers franchise has all but given up on this season, today’s exchange between Boyd and Cubbie tells me this: Boyd still cares.

When he did speak to the media today, we got some stock statements about moving forward, being a professional, doing the job he was brought here to do. They were statements any other player in a similar situation might have made but they don’t tell the story.

The story will begin with what happens Saturday.

And I’m hoping the first chapter is written by Kris Boyd.

 
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Posted by on July 10, 2012 in Timbers

 

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Requiem for a dream.

There was what I, at the time, considered a minor Twit-splosion last night just before 10:30.

A press release. Normal, I’m told. Run of the mill. Nothing terribly unusual. Notice of a closed training session.

Like many others, I blew it off. The team just suffered a pretty spectacular meltdown in Salt Lake. If it were up to me, I’d close practice, too. I was more irritated that I’d tried to get to bed before the inevitable 11 p.m. Rangers Twitter news dump and had been thwarted by a weekly news release that people were trying to make into a bigger deal than it was.

Turns out, it was a pretty frickin’ big deal.

By 9 a.m., rumors were swirling. By 10, a full four and a half hours before the scheduled press conference, the story broke.

John Spencer. Wee John Spencer. Former Ranger John Spencer. Coach John Spencer.

Today he became former Timbers coach John Spencer.

I get it. I accept it. I’m disappointed by it.

There is no other person in this world I would have rather had as coach of the Timbers in their first MLS season. His fire, his passion, his wit were the perfect fit for this city. I don’t know that I can say anything here that hasn’t already been said.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch footage of the presser yet. I listened to Merritt’s statements via an audio link posted on Twitter while I was on a break at work. Poor choice on my part. The emotion in Merritt’s voice was enough to make me a wreck for the rest of the day. Maybe there’s no crying in baseball, but there sure is in soccer.

So, what now?

I have absolutely no idea.

Gavin Wilkinson has been named interim coach and will lead the squad for the remainder of the season. I’ve seen a lot of negativity leveled toward Gavin but, at the very least, he knows the players. He brought them here, let him take a shot at coaching them. If it turns out that he’s as awful as so many people believe, well, here’s the opportunity for that to come to a head. It’s not the end of the world. It’s been made clear that he will not be in the running for a permanent placement as manager. However, if he manages to get some points on the road…

I’ll reserve judgement. Admittedly, I wasn’t around for Gavin’s greatest transgressions, but wasn’t there a season with him as coach when the Timbers had a 24-game unbeaten streak? He can’t be all bad, can he?

I was lucky enough to find myself across the table from a long-time, fairly level-headed member of the Timbers Army tonight at the Bitter End. I didn’t ask him if I could quote him as I didn’t really think I’d be writing this, but here we are.

“I’ve been around a long time,” he told me. “I’ve been around a long time and I don’t know what to think.”

Well, brother, you’re not alone.

Emotions will run high this week. I think I’ve been through at least three dozen emotions so far today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

We, collectively,team and TA, have about ten minutes to pull ourselves together and start preparing for the next match.

I listened to Popinski 23 on my way home from BE tonight. Fangirl here has burned a cd of it to play in the car. I look to the Popinksi popcasts as the standard, the most perfect reflection of the mood of the TA available. Popinski 23 was released into the wild in the week leading up to this year’s home opener against Philly. It is both raw and polished, filled with expectation and anticipation and hope. Punctuated with pride and bravado, it encapsulated everything I felt at the time. I hope I never forget any of those feelings.

We’re halfway through the season. I stand by my previous statement: I think we have the right team to make the playoffs. We’ve hit a major bump in the road, but the road is still there.

Let’s go.

Onward, Rose City.

 
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Posted by on July 9, 2012 in Timbers

 

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Still?

This was the question posed to me via Twitter tonight.

A simple, one-word question. “Still?”

Yes. Still.

The question comes after an exchange about whether the Timbers story post-match would be about what happened on the pitch rather than off.

The Timbers didn’t win. They played an hour of 90-minute match and then just unravelled. There’s your story.

As I’ve said repeatedly, I’m no sports analyst. I can’t tell you tactically what went wrong, though I’m learning more with every match I watch. I can offer opinions, though they may be considered naive and misguided by the uber-soccer folks.

There’s no lack of writers and analysts arguing the finer points of strategy and conditioning elsewhere on the internet. I’d be happy to point them out to you. That’s not what I do.

I could rant. I could tell you who I’d like to see traded, where I think the responsibility and blame should be placed. Doesn’t matter. Until the Timbers offer me a position as GM or coach or whatever, it just doesn’t matter.

It is what it is.

Here’s what I can tell you: I still believe.

I believe that we have the right combination of players to be successful. I believe we can – and will – win the Cascadia Cup. I believe we can still secure a playoff berth.

The tiniest part of me, a little mouse-like voice in the back of my head, believes we can lift the MLS Cup.

And I will continue to believe all of those things until such time as they may become mathematically ruled out. May. Such time as they may be ruled out.

We’re halfway through the season and we’re pretty much exactly where we were at this point last year. The difference? We want more. We expect more. We’re not getting more. We’re getting precisely what we had before.

I’m not entirely sure that’s the worst thing in the world.

I love this team. Each and every last one of them. Even the ones I don’t particularly like. If I’m being perfectly honest, I love this team more than I love some of my own family. It’s completely ridiculous. Having said that, I’ll add that I want more for them.

When I say I believe we can lift the MLS Cup, I don’t say it just because I, as a supporter, want it for bragging rights or to lord it over some other distasteful supporters group. No. I want it for my boys.

I want that moment when the Cup is handed from player to player on the pitch immediately following their hard-fought win. I want that sort of joy for them, for them to know that they’ve accomplished this grand thing. I want to see that star above the crest. I want the celebration and the parade and some sort of presentation at Pioneer Courthouse Square where we will all stand in the cold rain on a December day, thousands of us in our Ponderosa greens and our Rose City reds, all cheering our boys.

I want that like you wouldn’t believe.

But if I have to wait a bit for it, I’ll still believe.

So, the answer to the question “Still?”

Yes. Always.

 
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Posted by on July 7, 2012 in Timbers

 

A new beginning for RFC

Edit: Yeah. So this was posted minutes before I saw the stories about Ally Mccoist hit the net. I’ll update tomorrow when the story is clearer. Let’s just say that pissed is the nicest description of how I feel right now.

Okay, bear with me. This one might be a little jagged. Also, just a reminder, I’m NOT a sports blogger. It just happens that I’ve been writing abut my teams lately.

Oy, Rangers. You’re breaking my silly little heart.

It was nice to have a couple weeks there with no crazy-insane-bad Rangers news. But, apparently, it was all just building up for a flood. The dam has broken.

When last I wrote about Rangers, we were waiting for a buyer to come forward. Bill Miller, the tow truck manufacturer from Tennessee had taken his toys and gone home, leaving what is arguably the world’s most successful football club without an owner and in severe financial and spiritual distress.

Another bidder came forward and laid his cards on the table. Bid accepted.

I didn’t know much about him. I’m not sure any of us really did, but since stepping up to the podium, Charles Green has been open and (as far as I can see) honest and, when things start to get weird, he does not hesitate to issue tersely worded statements in which he outlines his discontent. He appears on the surface to be, at the very least, a man who does not easily back down from a challenge.

I’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t my preferred bidder, but his determination to make sure that Rangers survives has won me over. He has stated his commitment to keeping the boys in blue playing at Ibrox. That’s enough for me.

The biggest challenges are yet to come. Green announced earlier this week that HMRC has rejected the planned CVA. For those of you not following along, this basically means that instead of a managed bankruptcy wherein the new buyer of the club (Green) settles debts with creditors for essentially pennies on the dollar (or, in this case, pence on the pound) and the club continues forward as best it can, we move toward a total liquidation. At least, that’s my understanding. I’m not a Scottish/British tax/bankruptcy expert by any stretch of the imagination.

The proposed CVA has been rejected by the governmental body that reviews such things. Rather, it will be rejected sometime in the next twelve hours or so.

It’s 7 a.m. in Glasgow. My Scottish Twitter friends are waking and starting their day and, as most of them are part of the Rangers family, they’ll be on pins and needles until the official announcement.

And then they’ll continue to fret until Green reiterates his support for the club.

So, there it is. Rangers gets a new start. With the CVA denied, the club goes into liquidation and, barring any further nonsense, the good Mr. Green will buy the club’s assets and form a newco for even less than the CVA would have cost him in the first place. Who gets screwed here? The creditors. Again. I’m entirely unsure why this makes any sense at all but there you go.

The arguments will continue for years. Is a new Rangers still Rangers? Can we still lay claim to the accumulated titles and hardware of the last 140 years?

Yes. We can and we will.

All the Celtic bloggers are sounding the death knell for Rangers. Wishful thinking, kids. Wishful thinking. Newco, not newclub.

Rangers will be liquidated and reformed. They will still play at Ibrox. They will still carry the weight of 140 years of history and trophies. They will still be ours.

And it will be the SPL that suffers. And I will suffer because there’s little chance I’ll see the boys play if they land in the third division and are forced to claw their way back to the top tier.

A new beginning for Rangers.

Onward.

 
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Posted by on June 13, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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