QUOTE
HIBERNIAN v RANGERS 2-10-08
Having been denied opportunities to come up to Glasgow this season for European football, I managed to drag myself out of bed on Sunday morning for a trip to Edinburgh to watch my first live Rangers game of the season.
To be quite honest, after Saturday's football, I had just about had enough of the game for a few days.
Could Rangers restore my faith in football?
Less than twenty-four hours earlier, I had watched Boro huff and puff against West Brom. They wouldn't have scored in a brothel.
The day got off to a bad start when my mate Steve, who I was introducing to Rangers, got lost on his way to pick me up. He then insisted on playing some heavy metal shite on the car radio.
The A1 is a long and boring road, not made any more desirable by the lack of Little Chefs and the worrying signs stating how many people have died on certain sections in recent years.
That and the annoying number of tractors and combine harvesters that use the road to dawdle along. They say “Keep orf my land” but I say “Keep off our f**king roads”. They quickly earned the title of “agricultural twats”.
We eventually found a LC just outside Musselborough. Whilst a breakfast bap would probably have been sufficient, the Olympic Breakfast was a unanimous choice.
As we were eating, in walked one of the Boro’s chief scouts, David Mills. He ordered a toasted teacake and commented on our breakfasts with a skitty “See you are off your food lads”.
He too was off to Easter Road but looking at no one in particular. I wish I had known as we could have jumped in the car with him and saved the petrol money.
Arriving in Edinburgh, thanks to sat nav we did not make the easy mistake of heading for the floodlights, otherwise a quite boring afternoon at Meadowbank would have ensued.
Every pub near the ground was full of Rangers fans and it was a welcome sight. However, ignorance took us past the ground until we found a parking spot. This was a mistake, as we were to learn later on.
A meeting with my mate Scott, collection of tickets and a million handshakes later eventually saw us in the back row of the lower section.
My vastly travelled friend was already very impressed with the numbers and the local support. All seater stadia in England have led to a rapid decline in the atmosphere but this is not so in Scotland.
The banter with the juvenile home fan was made all the more amusing by the appearance of, shall we say a rather large home supporter who has obviously never had to worry about famine or any other anorexic problems.
It was food and drink to the Rangers fans who tore into him from the start. By half time, he had had enough and went home - probably for another pie.
It seems strange to pay £27 to watch a game and clear off at half time, even if several thousand Rangers fans have taken the piss out of you for forty-five minutes.
However, it was not as if he was missing much. Fat boy and his mates had spent the first half totally focused and impressed with the Rangers support and had not even watched a moment's action!!
I was surprised at how narrow the pitch was and in the early stages, everybody was on top of one other.
I am often asked if I miss refereeing. Well, if it involves wearing a terrible kit like your refs do, then I certainly don’t. I would have looked like a pregnant canary in one of those fluorescent yellow kits.
Rangers won at a canter and the fantastic vocal support throughout meant that it was a great day out.
At Boro, our main two songs are “You’re not fit to referee” and “You don’t know what your doing”. This is certainly not the case with Rangers - I will have to learn the words.
The one disappointing aspect for me was my old adversary, David Weir, obviously impressed and satisfied with the comfort of a three goal lead, decided to save his old legs and not head upfield for the string of attacking free kicks and corners in the last twenty minutes.
Sensible some might say, but no f**king good to the visitor from England who has had a spread bet on him for goal minutes.
In an attempt to cover the petrol money, I had invested in another outcome, the correct score. I had Hibs to score late on and if they had, you might have seen an unusual occurrence of a visiting supporter celebrating a home goal. 3-1 was my punt, wasn't going to happen was it?
After the match, our parking was proved to be a problem as even though it was in the opposite direction, we were marched out of the ground with everyone else. Those days ended a long time ago in England.
It was a long journey home but my faith in football had been restored. We will be back as Kilmarnock in November is already in the diary.
I am currently receiving a lot of enquiries to speak at Rangers functions. If you are interested, contact me.
Enjoy your football and here’s to “One in a Row”
Best Wishes
Jeff Winter
Having been denied opportunities to come up to Glasgow this season for European football, I managed to drag myself out of bed on Sunday morning for a trip to Edinburgh to watch my first live Rangers game of the season.
To be quite honest, after Saturday's football, I had just about had enough of the game for a few days.
Could Rangers restore my faith in football?
Less than twenty-four hours earlier, I had watched Boro huff and puff against West Brom. They wouldn't have scored in a brothel.
The day got off to a bad start when my mate Steve, who I was introducing to Rangers, got lost on his way to pick me up. He then insisted on playing some heavy metal shite on the car radio.
The A1 is a long and boring road, not made any more desirable by the lack of Little Chefs and the worrying signs stating how many people have died on certain sections in recent years.
That and the annoying number of tractors and combine harvesters that use the road to dawdle along. They say “Keep orf my land” but I say “Keep off our f**king roads”. They quickly earned the title of “agricultural twats”.
We eventually found a LC just outside Musselborough. Whilst a breakfast bap would probably have been sufficient, the Olympic Breakfast was a unanimous choice.
As we were eating, in walked one of the Boro’s chief scouts, David Mills. He ordered a toasted teacake and commented on our breakfasts with a skitty “See you are off your food lads”.
He too was off to Easter Road but looking at no one in particular. I wish I had known as we could have jumped in the car with him and saved the petrol money.
Arriving in Edinburgh, thanks to sat nav we did not make the easy mistake of heading for the floodlights, otherwise a quite boring afternoon at Meadowbank would have ensued.
Every pub near the ground was full of Rangers fans and it was a welcome sight. However, ignorance took us past the ground until we found a parking spot. This was a mistake, as we were to learn later on.
A meeting with my mate Scott, collection of tickets and a million handshakes later eventually saw us in the back row of the lower section.
My vastly travelled friend was already very impressed with the numbers and the local support. All seater stadia in England have led to a rapid decline in the atmosphere but this is not so in Scotland.
The banter with the juvenile home fan was made all the more amusing by the appearance of, shall we say a rather large home supporter who has obviously never had to worry about famine or any other anorexic problems.
It was food and drink to the Rangers fans who tore into him from the start. By half time, he had had enough and went home - probably for another pie.
It seems strange to pay £27 to watch a game and clear off at half time, even if several thousand Rangers fans have taken the piss out of you for forty-five minutes.
However, it was not as if he was missing much. Fat boy and his mates had spent the first half totally focused and impressed with the Rangers support and had not even watched a moment's action!!
I was surprised at how narrow the pitch was and in the early stages, everybody was on top of one other.
I am often asked if I miss refereeing. Well, if it involves wearing a terrible kit like your refs do, then I certainly don’t. I would have looked like a pregnant canary in one of those fluorescent yellow kits.
Rangers won at a canter and the fantastic vocal support throughout meant that it was a great day out.
At Boro, our main two songs are “You’re not fit to referee” and “You don’t know what your doing”. This is certainly not the case with Rangers - I will have to learn the words.
The one disappointing aspect for me was my old adversary, David Weir, obviously impressed and satisfied with the comfort of a three goal lead, decided to save his old legs and not head upfield for the string of attacking free kicks and corners in the last twenty minutes.
Sensible some might say, but no f**king good to the visitor from England who has had a spread bet on him for goal minutes.
In an attempt to cover the petrol money, I had invested in another outcome, the correct score. I had Hibs to score late on and if they had, you might have seen an unusual occurrence of a visiting supporter celebrating a home goal. 3-1 was my punt, wasn't going to happen was it?
After the match, our parking was proved to be a problem as even though it was in the opposite direction, we were marched out of the ground with everyone else. Those days ended a long time ago in England.
It was a long journey home but my faith in football had been restored. We will be back as Kilmarnock in November is already in the diary.
I am currently receiving a lot of enquiries to speak at Rangers functions. If you are interested, contact me.
Enjoy your football and here’s to “One in a Row”
Best Wishes
Jeff Winter
http://www.jeffwinterentertainmentandmedia...rs/0809010.html
Read a couple of pieces by him, seems a good lad.
Interesting read to see the views of someone from outside the support go to the game and enjoy it.
