The Ibrox club is desperate. Celtic fans know what a desperate Ibrox club will do.

I spend so much time during the day reading that it’s a wonder I’ve got any time to write. On top of that, there’s the sheer amount of material that gets sent to me. I also come across a lot of general weirdness out there in the world, and yesterday I stumbled across a story that made me laugh out loud. So today, I want to chat about that, but within a wider context.

The story that caught my eye was from Northamptonshire, England, where the World Conkers Championship has descended into farce amidst accusations of cheating. A man named Alistair Johnston Ferguson, who reached the final but lost, has accused his 82-year-old opponent of foul play after the old gent was found with a metal conker in his pocket.

Johnston Ferguson was already suspicious about his defeat, telling the media after the game, “My conker disintegrated in one hit, and that just doesn’t happen… I’m suspicious of foul play and have expressed my surprise to organisers.”

There are people who will do anything for a plaque on the wall or a trophy for their cabinet, no matter how trivial it might seem to you or me. Within their little worlds, these people want to be top dog, and they won’t stop at anything to win the glory and acclaim of their peers.

That’s conkers for you. I bet you didn’t even know there was a world championship for it. Well, now you do. And even in a sport as niche as that, there are people willing to cheat. Imagine how far some folks are prepared to go when the stakes are much, much higher.

A couple of years ago, I wrote one of the most controversial pieces in the history of this website. It was called “Ibrox Days of Hope or an Ibrox Haze of Dope,” and it explored the use of caffeine supplements in sport.

This wasn’t some wild theory either—those supplements were in widespread use across football and probably still are. They were pioneered in continental Europe, and some of the people involved in that were working at top Premier League clubs. Steven Gerrard, the former Liverpool captain and Ibrox manager, had worked under at least one of those individuals.

That article raised critical questions about the Ibrox operation under Gerrard, specifically asking whether the radical changes in the physicality of some of their players were achieved through legitimate means.

I based the piece on a series of articles that had appeared elsewhere, many of which suggested that what was happening at Ibrox was abnormal. In fact, some Rangers fans, familiar with the writer, Alan Moore’s work on caffeine doping, had emailed him asking if he thought it could explain the sudden and drastic physical development of some of their own players.

He wrote a stunning paragraph in one of his articles:

“The most balanced response, from even the most dedicated Liverpool supporters, was – ‘I hate that it’s happening, but I’m sure it is, and it points to an illness in sport.’ Self-reflective (Ibrox) fans even questioned their own club and the body changes in players.”

The connection between Liverpool and Ibrox, of course, was Gerrard himself. And it’s no secret that Liverpool has been linked to performance-enhancing substances. The so-called Klopp Formula was openly discussed in the media for years. Its creator, Mark Warnecke, concocted his wonder supplement back in 2005, which helped him become the oldest person to win an international swimming contest in over thirty years. He gave it to US swimmer Dana Torres, who at age 40 posted faster times than she had in her 20s.

There are two reasons why I believed this story might have legs.

First, it was obvious that Liverpool were operating on the edge of what was strictly legitimate, and Gerrard had been not only a player under that system but a coach too. But second, and more importantly, it was Dave King, the man in charge at Ibrox, who made me suspicious. King’s track record speaks volumes—he’s one of the most unscrupulous individuals ever to sit atop a UK football club. He came to this country fresh from a South African tax case involving over 80 counts of fraud. That could have seen him face multiple decades in prison had he not taken a plea deal.

King was later investigated by the City of London’s Takeover Panel for how he grabbed control of Rangers. The verdict was scathing—he was found guilty of withholding information, lying, and doing everything he could to cover his tracks.

There’s no doubt in my mind that King would resort to anything if he thought it would give him an edge. People like him don’t ever believe they’ll get caught. They think they’re smarter than everyone else. Look at how he got caught up in his tax troubles in the first place; he went to an auction, bought a painting and boasted to the media about it. A tax officer who was familiar with his returns was suspicious, since the painting was worth several times his annual declaration … and the rest is history.

We know that back in the 2000s, another Ibrox chairman got so desperate to beat Celtic that he initiated his own tax scam, wilfully hiding documents from the game’s governing bodies.

The infamous side letters should have seen them stripped of every trophy won during that period. But, thanks to a separate act of corruption—the rigged Lord Nimmo Smith inquiry—that outcome was avoided.

It’s obvious that catching Celtic is no easy task, and the pressure is immense on the other side of the city. It’s going to make or break careers, reputations, and fortunes. The people at Ibrox have sunk millions into the club and are still owed millions. If Celtic continues to dominate, the value of their shares continues to fall. A club in decline will never be able to attract buyers.

These people know we don’t have a media worth a damn, and they know our governing bodies are disinterested in governance. When I published that article on doping in football, it highlighted the worrying lack of random drug tests in Scotland, something routine in other European leagues. We have a culture of “don’t ask, don’t tell” in our game, and that’s not doing anyone any favours.

In short, if someone at Ibrox decided to try something underhanded, there are few avenues available for exposing that behaviour. The people responsible for policing the game aren’t equipped—or willing—to do their jobs. We already believe there’s institutional bias at the SFA, with evidence of assistance in refereeing decisions clearly established, yet ignored by the media.

Am I saying the Ibrox club will definitely cheat, or that they are cheating right now?

No, but I wouldn’t rule it out. We can’t rule it out. Desperate clubs do desperate things, and history has shown that the clubs from Ibrox will use any advantage they can find.

With the international break almost over and a tough fixture list ahead, the Ibrox club is in a perilous state. Their leaders are increasingly desperate to halt their club’s slide and Celtic’s rise. And while I don’t know what they’ll try, I’m certain that nothing is off the table.

Every one of us needs to be alert to that possibility—and we hope our club is too.