Mark Warburton has suggested that there was “no disprespect” in Joey Barton’s comments the other day about Brendan Rodgers. He’s suggested they were a joke, and that anyone who took them seriously “needs help.”
That’s a cop- out from Warburton.
The very act of joking about a rival manager in such a manner betrays an underlying disrespect and a fundamental lack of class.
Barton was not joking. Barton is the joke.
Warburton undermines his own management role by pretending otherwise, because to do anything else would mean confronting this class clown on a professional level.
Clearly, Warburton isn’t strong enough for that.
This is the guy who has bitched and moaned each and every time a Celtic player has as much as passed comment on his team, after all, and he’s in charge of a club which never ceases wailing any time it feels like its poor wee feelings have been hurt.
Let’s be straight here; I’m not in the least bit concerned, and nor will Brendan be, at the idiotic rantings of the village idiot. Brendan and Celtic are getting on with their business, and without giving a monkeys what some over-blown rent-a-quote thinks. We’ll do our talking where it counts, on the park, as we did last night.
But Warburton’s failure to get a grip on this prat makes him look spineless at best and at worst somehow someone who feels some measure of secret satisfaction in what Barton had to say. See, “Warbo” is used to being feted. He was, as you’ll recall, once the highest paid boss in the game here and doubtless he thought he would be for some time to come. Brendan’s arrival has shaken the kaleidoscope. Warburton now looks strictly second rate.
King knows this, by the way, which is why he’s given the Englishman a “second place or pack your bags” ultimatum.
The fear wafts out of Ibrox right now, and anyone from over there who watched that game last night must be trembling in their trainers at the prospect of having to face that team plus new signings, plus Sviatchenko, plus Patrick Roberts.
Barton has no respect for anyone, and it won’t be long – mark my words – before that scattergun gob of his is pouring out this venom at his fellow players and perhaps even the manager and the fans too. It wouldn’t be the first time in his career he’s done that. He really does think his own opinion is Holy Writ and that the world needs to hear his voice.
A good manager, a strong manager, would be trying to get a grip on this halfwit because it’s clearer by the day that he’s simply not cut out for this place, that he’s going to talk himself into a world of trouble and maybe even a world of hurt, that he’s so far out of his depth that he’s literally drowning. This isn’t a city that embraces his kind of “humour”. Quite the opposite. The charged nature of the last two of these games, and the media’s hyping of them … throw an idiot like this into the mix and there will be consequences aplenty.
You know, I’ve been writing about the game in this country for nearly ten years and I’ve been writing my own blogs for nearly five. I’ve been following this sport a helluva lot longer, for every one of my years on this planet since I first fell in love with football, one cold night on the terraces at Celtic Park when I was just a wee kid. I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff, and the clowns have trooped across the stage in that time, and there have been plenty of them.
Even Gascoigne, who was as close to an actual village idiot as ever played football here, never made such completely disrespectful comments about a rival club manager. Criticism of tactics, of team selection, of composure on the touchline … all of that has been fair game over the years and yet only a handful of people ever willingly crossed that line, because it’s just not the done thing. It lacks respect. It lacks class.
What this guy did went much further than that; it was highly personal, a retrograde step which no-one in my recall in the history of the game here has ever taken about a fellow pro, and I’m not talking about Scott Brown calling Jamie Walker a cheat here, which is a commentary on what happened on the pitch.
But to comment on a manager on account of his personal life?
Jesus Christ, even if it was a joke (and it wasn’t; the sneering prat meant every word and you can hear it in his voice in the interview) … Warburton should have said it was inappropriate and that he’d be having a quiet word in the players ear.
But Warburton is essentially gutless, and the hacks, who loved every word and who treat Barton as if he’s something unique here (and I suppose he is; aside from Duncan Ferguson I can’t think of many of our footballers who’ve done time) and not just a boot boy with a Twitter feed. As long as they feed this guy the compliments and give him the attention he craves the ego will continue to swell to monstrous proportions … and that story doesn’t have a happy ending.
Some of us know what this guy is, and what he was, and in that lies a reasonable guide to what we can expect in the future. It is a matter of time.
And Warburton, who today gave this reprobate the green light to keep his mouth running, is the one who will, ultimately, pay the highest price when the inevitable happens.
In Brendan We Trust.
You can now follow The CelticBlog on Twitter at @The_Celtic_Blog
[ad_pod id=’virgin’ align=’center’]
