Keith Jackson wrote an article this morning suggesting that Pedro Caixinha was only two Celtic goals from getting his jotters.
I suppose this is a better piece than the scandalous one he wrote about Morelos last week, which sparked fury – wholly justifiable fury – on the Sevco forums and earned him an admonition from Show Racism The Red Card, but it still leaves a lot to be desired.
Because as usual it completely misses the big picture.
Dave King, he says, must be wondering why he “delegated” the decision on who to appoint as manager to other people.
I can answer that for Jackson if he’s too dumb to work it out; King is a charlatan, but a smart one.
He knows Celtic are so far ahead of his club that we won’t be caught. He knew that the pressures of the job would crush any manager who took it, and so he made sure that his own fingerprints wouldn’t be near the appointment.
King set his own board up to take the fall. He told the fans the club was committed to winning the title this season but also that it couldn’t be done. He made sure the appointment was nothing at all to do with him, yet Jackson thinks he’ll accept a share of responsibility for it.
Why would he?
That would defeat the whole purpose of standing back from it in the first place.
Jackson is quite mad. King will let others take the fall for as long as they are willing.
His board of nodding donkeys will be blamed when Caixinha goes, and when the dust settles he’ll “jet in”, invite some of his media pals over and lie through his teeth, promising another revolution and starting the ball rolling on appointing someone new … which, of course, he’ll take zero responsibility for. You can see where all this is going because in case Jackson needs reminding King “delegated” responsibility for the Warburton appointment as well.
King is happy hiding on the other side of the world, and emerging only when there’s credit to take or when he’s trying to spin something. What Jackson and others won’t say, and what is begging to be said, is that Dave King contributes not one positive thing to the running of the club and the Takeover Panel scandal that hangs over him threatens it instead.
He has brought no cash to the table. He takes no responsibility. He does not attend games. But he does like to have his face in the papers and if, against the odds, the club was doing well it would be everywhere and he’d make sure of it.
The silence from South Africa is deafening. Hasn’t that sunk in yet? Jackson and his pals can write whatever nonsense comes into their heads, but that he’s forced to play Mystic Meg here, trying to divine King’s intentions, is telling in itself. Because no-one has a clue what King thinks of all this because he’s not said a word.
Does he care? Does he even know?
King is a glory hunter. The problem with being that at Ibrox is the distinct absence of glory. The big picture here is one largely absent the man who supposedly leads the revolution over there. The whole “riding to the rescue” takeover saga was a sham, a joke, a joke that was on Jackson and his buddies. The Bampots predicted King’s lack of investment; what we didn’t foresee was his complete lack of interest aside from what it does for his ego.
But it’s better being half-right than all wrong.