King’s “investment” talk is absolute rubbish even if our media is willing to swallow it.

The story of the day isn’t really up for debate.

As per usual, it happens across the city at the club of unfolding, everlasting, and seemingly never-ending calamity that continues to generate headlines no other club could possibly manage. And what is the story of the day? It’s that Dave King, in remarks to the media, has made clear his desire to sweep back to power at the top of the Ibrox household.

But this issue goes far beyond King himself. It’s a larger subject, far too big for just one article to do justice to. That’s why I’ll concentrate on two elements of it. Later today, I’ll delve into King’s bombastic claims and offer some comparisons between those and statements made by others in the past. The origin of some of these past remarks might surprise you, but it’s the strangeness of them that makes them particularly applicable to this situation.

However, before I get to that, I want to tackle something much simpler: the meaning of words. Because, let’s be honest, words often get twisted and misused, especially by our media. King has used a word that may well be the most misused in the entire English language, at least as far as the Scottish sports media is concerned. That word is “investment.”

So, what exactly is investment in the context of a football club?

This might be the only industry where the word is so routinely used outside of its proper context. Here in Scotland, the media seems to think that “investment” simply means putting money in. That’s it. No further thought required. But investment, as any savvy person knows, actually has two components, and the second one seems to escape the Scottish media entirely. You put money in to get money out. That’s how it works.

Imagine you went to the bank and told the manager you were interested in an investment opportunity. What would they think? Naturally, they’d assume you meant you wanted to hand them money in the hope of getting a return. That’s the common understanding. You give money to get money back. In this case, it might be something like a portfolio of shares, an ISA, where the bank invests the money on your behalf, on the stock market.

But imagine if you went into the bank one day and asked how your investments were doing, and the manager replied, “Oh, we’ve sunk all that into a Scottish football team. They’re using the cash to buy players, hoping to qualify for Europe, hoping to increase player profiles and sell them on.” Even if you knew nothing about football, you’d probably be a little shocked to hear that kind of plan.

Let’s be crystal clear: what these people are talking about when they discuss “investment” in the football team is a completely different type of investment than what traditional money men think of. They’re not interested in seeing the best possible players on the pitch. Why would they be? For them, investment is about financial returns, not emotional fulfilment.

There are broadly two types of investors who aren’t primarily seeking financial returns, but neither of these groups is relevant to the current situation at Ibrox.

The first type is those who do make emotional investments, who see their money as a tool to enjoy a particular experience. They’re willing to part with it because they get something back in terms of personal satisfaction or excitement.

Whatever else King might claim, even he isn’t in it for the emotional investment. He owns shares worth millions. He has a stake in the club, and one day, those shares will either be passed down to his children or sold off. That’s about as much emotion as he’s willing to inject into the matter. The truth is, those shares are largely worthless unless he finds someone willing to buy them.

Fergus McCann knew exactly what he was doing when he came to Celtic. His investment was both financial and emotional, but he put the financial element first and walked away after selling his shares to the fans at an enormous profit. Fergus fulfilled both his emotional desires and financial goals at the same time. That’s clever.

King, on the other hand, doesn’t know how to make money out of Ibrox. He has tried the emotional investment and all it left him was out of pocket, and now he hangs onto his shares like grim death in the hope he can get something back for them. He’s already forced the club to pay back over £10 million in loans. So if he’s not an “emotional investor” they’ll have no luck finding one.

That leaves only the people who throw their money down the black hole of football because it makes them feel good. The ego buyers. Those who have enough cash that they can afford to treat a football club like a personal hobby. But they are rare, and most of them are looking for something a bit higher profile than the SPFL. The so-called “real Ranjurs men” are an endangered species, and no one in those distant lands is interested in stepping into their shoes.

There’s another set of investors, those who make reputational investments.

For them, it’s not about financial returns; it’s about boosting their standing, both personally and for their nation or company. King talks about Saudi Arabia as if they are just fans, pouring money into sport for the love of the game. That’s nonsense. It’s about soft power. These states are projecting their influence globally, not for emotional kicks, but because their traditional revenue streams – oil and gas – are threatened by global shifts in energy and politics.

Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar are investing heavily in high-profile sports franchises as a way to stay relevant in a world where fossil fuels are becoming less important. That’s why they call it green-washing, or sports-washing to give it its other name.

Their investments are strategic, aimed at enhancing their global reputation and influence, not propping up a struggling football club in Scotland.

King is completely out of his depth in that world, and to be honest, I struggle to see where he has the least bit of relevance in it. He talks about Gerrard as if he’s the link to all that money and wealth; perhaps he hasn’t noticed that Gerrard is just another high profile name to bolster the reputation of their domestic league competition. The people behind that have a very clear goal; in building top class football franchises on their own doorstep, free of the regulatory constraints which tie their hands when it comes to club ownership in Europe.

The idea that Saudi princes or other major investors would want anything to do with him or Ibrox is fanciful nonsense. For the same amount of money it would take to turn that club around, they could buy a decent-sized English Championship side and aim for the Premier League, where the returns – both financial and reputational – would be ten times higher.

And that’s what these people are after: influence, power, relevance. You don’t get that by owning a football club in Scotland. The market is too small. The political weight is insignificant. No oligarch is coming here to get their fix.

So, what does King think he’s going to do? I suspect his real intentions for the Ibrox boardroom are different from what he’s letting on, but I do know this: talk of American or Middle Eastern investment is pure fantasy. There’s no money to be made here, and there’s no reputational boost to be had. The only thing on offer is a bit of wish fulfilment for a few in the stands, and even then, only if they can somehow operate within UEFA’s financial rules.

The Ibrox board has done well to find a small group of people willing to make emotional investments, putting their money into the club without expecting any financial return. John Bennett’s so-called £23 million “investment” is a perfect example. It’s tied up in shares, and unless someone buys them, he’s stuck with it. He can’t just send the club an invoice and expect to get it back.

The reality is that £23 million is gone. Even if Bennett wanted to sell his shares, he’d struggle to get anywhere near that value for them. Their club has never posted a profit in 12 years. It makes losses year after year, and anyone considering investing would ask the obvious question: where are the future profits coming from?

The answer? There aren’t any. That club is operating at near-maximum capacity. They’re getting what they can from sponsorships, merchandising, and European football. There’s no more room for growth. So, if you were being asked to invest, what would you be investing in? More shares? In a club that hasn’t made a profit in over a decade? It’s absurd.

What the media refuses to understand is that the use of the word “investment” in this context is a joke. When you’re investing you’re hoping to do a wee bit more than try to beat Celtic once a season. And anyone who thinks there’s significant interest in the club beyond a small group of emotionally invested individuals is dreaming.