SPACED OUT!
Regan, Petrie and McRae must be living on another planet if they think backing Strachan can lead Scots out of oblivion
AND so, they shall maintain their blind allegiance until, on the twenty-sixth day of the third month, the mothership, in all her shimmering magnificence, will emerge over that historic place of worship on the ancient land of Mount Florida and radiate great light, bringing forth the moment of transcendence to the next level.
Or, at the very least, a cushy number, somewhere like UEFA.
Welcome to the world of the Hampden death cult where the careers and reputations of men locked inside their own little bubble of madness and misunderstanding will surely now perish with the same certainty as a qualifying campaign beyond earthly salvation and a country’s remaining vestiges of hope in its national game.
What exactly do those inside its star chamber really expect to unfold next March with the visitation of Srecko Katanec — a name, alone, around which you could build an entire world of sci-fi novels — and his own team of disciples from Slovenia?
Given the actions of the past few days, it is anyone’s guess.
Certainly, a spacecraft hovering over the ground seems about as plausible right now as a home win for Scotland.
It may not prove to be Armageddon. That particular prophecy, after all, was copyrighted by Neil Doncaster, the great seer holed up across the corridor in the National Stadium, in 2010 when he made the case for league reconstruction. And got ignored.
It does look sure to be one almighty day of reckoning, though. And it is no longer just Gordon Strachan likely to be consumed by the firestorm.
Strachan, of course, is proving more difficult to get out of the building than David Koresh. He also appears to possess more effective brainwashing techniques.
This time last week, it looked like his goose was finally cooked. The word was that the SFA were no longer prepared to carry on sleepwalking behind him down an ever-darkening path, turning a blind eye to two years of regression and collapse.
There was to be tough talking, forensic questioning of his mantras and whims.
One meeting later, with his views ‘fed in’ (whatever that means) to those present, his No 2, Mark McGhee, is now talking blithely about skipping through the fields to the land of milk and honey in the golden summer of 2020.
It’s almost as if the horrors of Georgia, Slovakia and Wembley never happened.
Of course, there remains the possibility us non-believers have got it badly wrong. Perhaps Gord is the way, the truth and the life. More likely, though, is the scenario of others now going down with him as this awful movie plays out.
Stewart Regan is one. The SFA chief executive was wheeled out at the end of Thursday’s deliberations over Strachan to make the obligatory propaganda video explaining why the governing body’s board opted to ignore all warnings and jump off a cliff. Unanimously.
The questions were anodyne, his expression lacking real emotion. The answers made about as much sense as the farewell letters of the kamikaze pilots. Having passed up his last chance to apply the handbrake and change direction, Regan’s mechanical responses amounted to little more than: ‘It’s fine. Gordon has told us it’s going to be all right.’
Providing the visit of Slovenia works out as logic would dictate and we do not win, this — held alongside the long-standing state of confusion surrounding the SFA’s leaderless performance programme — may well be Regan’s final act.
Strachan, by his own admission, is already making preparations to pass into a parallel universe. Namely, the one inhabited by those who play golf every day.
SFA president Alan McRae may well join him. With every passing month, the running of the national team looks more and more like a pleasant private arrangement between these old chums.
As Hibernian supporters will tell you, though, it will take more than the end of another World Cup campaign to dislodge McRae’s prospective successor Rod Petrie.
Nuclear war wouldn’t shift Petrie. He has withstood protest after protest at Easter Road down the years. Putting the violence and chaos of Scottish Cup final day down to ‘over-exuberance’ was followed by a commendation from Regan.
We should have gathered, though, how the week would develop through the SFA vice-president’s stern, yet revealing, responses to the enterprising television reporter who buttonholed him on his way out of Hampden on Tuesday.
Petrie has such a taciturn, coldblooded demeanour that, one of these days, you wonder if he might end such an interview by delicately removing the skin from his forehead and announcing that he is really one of those all-powerful lizards David Icke keeps warning us about.
Perhaps this is to be part of the Great Revelation the SFA board clearly anticipate on the evening of March 26, 2017.
Regan ended his video address by imploring the fans to turn out in numbers at Hampden and join him and his colleagues on their merry way to journey’s end.
Just in case something ugly does happen, it seems best to stay at home. Not that you should need much convincing of the wisdom of that.
You did watch those 90 minutes against Lithuania last month, didn’t you?