Keeping the plebs in their place – still
Courier columnist Dan Mackay found his first trip to Inverness Caley Thistle’s ground on the northern outskirts of Inverness memorable for all the wrong reasons
OLD men in suits and long-legged hotties nibbled free canapés in the hospitality suite at Caledonian Stadium while the plebs, herded like cattle, shuffled along interminable queues for a pee and a pie.
High in the stratospheric glass palace, amidst the leering testosterone, the ubiquitous hands of corporate cronyism slap-backs-aplenty and vow continuing allegiance to “the beautiful game”.
One thing is clear: everyone, it seems, is on the game! Whether deals done or suggested; there is, doubtless, something in it for everyone. The pin stripes make sure of that. The word is reciprocity – you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours!
Meanwhile back in the bear pit – not that anyone in the board room would have noticed – the fans are restless.
Hundreds of them have missed Celtic’s opening goal as the feudal turnstiles at Caley Thistle could barely cope with those at the away gate demanding to be let in. The wheels of Scottish premier football grind slowly. Too slowly for Kris Commons who knocked in a sublime effort in the third minute. Not that we saw it.
The burger van next to the main stand had, apparently, been broken into the night before the Highland fixture, so we were pointed in the direction of a pie shop way over on the other side... It did feel like a crossing over.
Maybe had they known the directors might have suggested that they “let them eat cake” to avert potential calls from the terraces of “off with their heads”.
As the Bhoys sang “The Fields of Athenry”, where once we watched the small birds fly, it was not so much “Trevelyan’s corn” we were after but more immediate sustenance. I must admit “a lonely prison wall” did seem appealing!
Not much has changed down the years. Nor down the centuries since the “great famine” ...for that matter. Nor, indeed, down the millennia. Give them panem and circenses (literally bread and circuses) to quell their disquiet, the Roman emperors had suggested dismissively. It is still samo samo to this very day.
Here I must admit it was my first visit to the Highland shrine on the shores of the Moray Firth. The thousands of strict Sabbatarians who had travelled far and wide to pay observance to their idols were treated to an absolutely average and wholly uninspiring display. Give me Harmsworth Park any day!
Still Celtic got the result – if not the performance – and continue their unbeaten premier league record and, at this halfway point, look set to retain their championship title.
Caley Thistle, under the new management of John Hughes, provided some entertaining exchanges after bringing on a raft of subs – but left it too late. Although Doran’s rocket strike almost caught the Hoops goalkeeper out. Phew! That would have set the cat amongst the pigeons.
Talking of pigeons the Celtic legends looked like fairly nondescript, everyday mere mortals. I had somehow expected, in the pecking order, for Commons, Forrest, Stokes, Scott Brown to appear as towering gladiators... And Samaras – Georgios Samaras – well, he pranced about like a faffing fairy, I have to say!
It’s a funny old game this football malarkey. Were it not for Neil Lennon’s sidelines antics – tempestuously throwing his hat into the dugout, screaming tirades at his men on the park – it would all have seemed so boringly tame.
I’ll tell you one thing though: I wouldn’t want to get scored off Lennon’s Christmas card list. I’d rather walk the plank.
So, it was a game of two halves on a level playing field. If they’d played their cards right and gone the extra mile who knows which way the ball would have bounced... It was a battle from start to finish; if only Caley had brought on their heavy artillery...
And another thing: Caley Stadium – more like Ice Station Zebra! And that was on a mild dry day. (No architectural design awards here methinks).
C’mon guys, this is the 21st century. It’s time someone reinvented the beautiful game to make it a much more appealing experience for families. Shock horror. It’s not rocket science.
Customer experience on the day? Not good. And let’s be frank – just who cares! Not the old men in suits, nor the long-legged hotties. They were too busy quaffing champers to worry about the plebs.
At least now I know why the league is split into divisions. It starts at the top and permeates all the way down to the bottom. In every sense. Class. Status. Culture – you name it.
They are still feeding pies to the masses. The pin stripes prefer their canapés. You gotta queue a mile for a leak if you’re on the wrong side of the divide. Nothing new there then.
Highland hospitality – you must be kidding.