The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
Ian ‘Dickens’ Roache takes a look at the year in football
Eat your heart out Charles Dickens...it’s Ian Roache
Twas with great expectations, That Scrooge opened his book, What’s this? A Christmas Carol? Bah humbug, let’s take a look.
It was about a grumpy, old man, Who was rich, it has to be said. Instead of spending it, though, He stuffed cash under his bed.
Scrooge thought: ‘What the Dickens?’ To be a miser is wrong. The ghosts say if you love money, Then you won’t be around long.
But he soon got fed up, He preferred his smart-phone. So he was glued to the screen, The internet he did roam.
So what has just happened, In Scottish futba this year? Was it more bonkers than Brexit? Oui, si, ja, I fear.
‘Are we all off to Moscow?’ Scrooge wondered out loud. To reach the World Cup, Would make us Scots proud!
No, it was more of the same Hard-luck stories, I see. No Russia for us, folks. Like Tiny Tim, we’re too wee.
But didn’t we once have, A five-foot-five midfield man? What was his name again? Oh, yes, Gordon Strachan.
At least Hampden was roaring, When Griff scored his double. We were beating the English, But then Kane caused us trouble.
So Strachan has now left, And O’neill tops the list, All the eggs in one basket This target can’t be missed.
Mr Wright would then head, Back home to Belfast.
Whatever happens at Saints, Tommy’s legacy will last.
Neil fell from the Sky, To take charge at Dundee, Is Mccann the main man? Up to now, he seems to be!
He may be leaving soon, though, Oh yes, Scrooge, that’s true. It could be Dens Park no more, And a move to Campie Nou!
Hard Times at Tannadice, When news it did come, Back through from Hamilton That Accies had won.
So down they would stay But keep faith Tangerines! For in Csaba do trust, In May there will be scenes.
Brechin, Arbroath and Forfar, All showed how to go up. They partied in Angus, Like they’d just won the cup.
PSG splashed out on Neymar, £200 million they did pay. ‘That’s nothing’, said Scrooge. ‘I make that in a day!’
Ibrox was a Bleak House, Pedro put them through hell. They struggled to get a gaffer, After being stood up by Del.
Celtic were invincible, Sixty-nine – maybe more? Hang on, what’s that scoreline? Hoops nil but Hearts four.
Scrooge switched off his phone And got ready to sleep, ‘I’m really exhausted. This kip will be deep.’
‘Oh no it won’t be!’ Yelled a voice, loud and clear The ghost of futba yet to come, Then showed him the new year.
Among Scotland fans now, There was no gloom or doom. Michael ensured we climbed faster, Than thon cyclist Chris Froome.
In Perth there was sadness, As Tommy waved cheerio. The Norn Iron job was his. So o’er the water he did go.
The honours list was announced, And a new name was on it. Lord Campbell of Lichtie, For services to the bunnet.
The league flag it did flutter, As the Tangerines went up, Next season it’s the top six, You can keep the Irn-bru Cup.
A Tunisian king he was crowned Big Moussa was his name, A winning goal against England, Brought him fortune and fame.
Just before next Christmas, They got a permanent new man, ‘Make Rangers Great Again!’ Said the guy with the fake tan.
‘Ach I’ve now seen enough,’ Said old Scrooge as he yawned. In the year 2018,
A new era will have dawned.
SFA revamp, sensible wages, Betters refs, games in the sun, Cheaper prices, silky skills, God bless us, every one!