Ibrox Joy As Celtic Fall Behind For The First Time: An Exclusive By Keith Jackass.
Last night, the Ibrox board were celebrating with their manager as he scored his first major success over Celtic since taking over at the helm. Their 4-1 win over Hibs closed the gap with the Parkhead club by a goal, and sent a clear message to the current champions; your reign is almost over.
Michael Beale, who is on a stunning run of form which is the envy of Europe, and about whom many expressed grave reservations, has the makings of a serious managerial figure who commands instant respect and bring top players to the club at the snap of his finger. Finance will not necessarily be an issue; great footballers will flock there just to learn under him.
Slowly but surely, he is closing the gap on the over-rated Postecoglou, who arrived in Glasgow on a wave of euphoria and flattering coverage and now risks having his name – largely built on buying success – absolutely tarnished by failure.
The fear of this is why many believe he’ll take the first job in England that comes along.
An Ibrox director, who was in bullish form last night, told this writer, “If the league ran only for this one series of games, we would have won the title by a goal. That has to be scaring them over there, right? We’re certainly very excited. Celtic fans better beware. When this manager gets the team we can afford they’ll be on their backs and Ange will be packing his bags. We’re on the up and up now, even if they’ve won the silverware.”
A Celtic director, who asked not to be named except for his title as Chairman, was furious at the slide towards mediocrity.
“The CEO has obviously let things slip here. Imagine letting the manager re-invest the January transfer window money in January! What the Hell kind of way to run things is this? No wonder Ibrox is closing the gap!”
This writer reached out to Ange Postecoglou for a comment, but he would not initially speak to us on any of his seven numbers, or at his lawyers who reminded us of prior restraining orders and court actions pending.
Finally Ange did return my call however and he sounded suitably rattled.
“Mate, I’m tired. I’m so, so, so tired of this. Why do you always ask me these awful bloody questions? I don’t want to bang my own drum, but look at the league table, the real one, the actual one. We’re top. The league lasts 38 games, it doesn’t start and stop on game 28! Christ almighty, it’s like talking to a bloody child at times! Stop calling me at 4am!”