The media laughs at Crazy Pedro, but they forget their own role in hyping him as a saviour.

Yesterday, I saw certain media folk chuckling at the latest unfortunate twist in the career of Pedro Caixinha, former Ibrox manager. And, admittedly, it gave me a good laugh, but perhaps not for the same reasons as them.

The media’s amusement at his struggles reflects more on them than on Caixinha himself; it highlights their own lack of introspection and historical awareness, underscoring the absurdity with which they approach these matters.

In the past six years, there have been two Ibrox managerial appointments that have been outright bewildering: Pedro Caixinha and, more recently, Michael Beale.

At least with managers like Giovanni van Bronckhorst and Philippe Clement, you could point to some European pedigree or hint of past success that made them remotely credible candidates. But Beale, like Caixinha before him, was handed the reins on the basis of hype, with very little substance to back it up. And, true to form, a gullible media crowned him, selling him as the genius behind Steven Gerrard’s success—despite the glaring lack of evidence either that he had performed such a role or, more importantly, of much credible success in the first place.

The Beale appointment, ridiculous as it was, looks almost tame compared to the circus that surrounded Caixinha’s arrival. Watching journalists revel in his latest failure, one has to wonder if any of them have paused to consider their role in hyping him up to begin with.

Their supposed ‘due diligence’ when Caixinha arrived was laughable at best. In reality, they bought into the hype, hook, line, and sinker.

So let’s address the media’s role in the arrival of Caixinha.

Keith Jackson was one of the chief instigators in this episode, practically tripping over himself to sell the man to Ibrox fans as a masterstroke signing by Dave King. Jackson portrayed him as some sort of Portuguese James Bond, a “hard man” who dabbled in bullfighting and jet skiing, which have very little to do with managing a football club. But those details served the narrative—painting Caixinha as a rugged, no-nonsense figure who would bring the glory days back to Ibrox.

It’s evident that Jackson, along with other journalists, needed to believe in the image they were selling, particularly when it came to supporting King’s judgement. They willingly became the club’s mouthpieces, encouraging fans to get excited about a man whose main qualifications seemed to be his eccentric hobbies rather than his managerial prowess.

It’s no secret that Jackson, the writer of the notorious “Motherwell-born billionaire” piece flogging Craig Whyte as a savour, is well-practiced in spinning for Ibrox.

He willingly bought into this narrative, using whatever information the club handed him—no matter how absurd or unsubstantiated it was.

It wasn’t just the media that failed to vet Caixinha properly though.

The club itself did an appalling job of due diligence. It’s a well-known fact that no one from Ibrox actually met Caixinha in person before offering him the job.

They conducted his interviews through Zoom, never once meeting him face-to-face or discussing his plans for the team. Their board members also relied on these online interviews, yet somehow this was enough to give him the job. It boggles the mind how a football club with ambitions could make such a pivotal appointment with so little scrutiny.

Once Caixinha arrived, the club allowed him to assemble a squad that could only be described as baffling. I remember writing, at the time, that if a club like Aberdeen had signed those players, not a single eyebrow in the media would have lifted.

But because it was Ibrox, suddenly they were world-beaters.

Caixinha was handed control, despite having a managerial record that was, to put it politely, underwhelming. In his prior seven years of management, he had taken on four permanent jobs with a win rate barely breaking the 40% mark—a far cry from the pedigree you’d expect for a club with ambitions of dethroning Celtic.

So, when the media laughs at Caixinha today, what exactly are they laughing at? They’re not just mocking his latest failure but also unwittingly indicting themselves.

They’re laughing at the poor judgement of the Ibrox board, laughing at the lack of scrutiny Dave King applied to this appointment, and most amusingly, they’re laughing at their own gullibility for selling him as a hero in the first place.

It’s hard not to see this as a form of self-loathing from the press, who find themselves scorning the very man they once hailed. The embarrassment they feel for having blindly promoted him back then is palpable; it’s as if ridiculing Caixinha now helps them distance themselves from their own role in the debacle.

Yes, Caixinha is a poor manager who has flopped spectacularly here and at a string of clubs since, but this latest media pile-on feels more like an attempt to cover their tracks than a genuine critique.

Looking back, Celtic fans saw through the Caixinha hype from the beginning. We did a bit of research, checked his record, and found nothing remotely fearsome. His so-called success ratio, his bizarre signings, and his antics were never going to unsettle us. While some were in awe of photos of him dressed as a bullfighter or jet skiing on holiday, we weren’t the least bit intimidated because we’d checked his record, and it takes more than a few gimmicks to make us lose sleep.

Ultimately, the joke is on those who ever thought Caixinha was anything more than a mediocre manager with an eccentric public persona.

We didn’t need to wait for his tenure to implode to see that. It was as clear as day from the moment he arrived. For the media, however, it’s a hard lesson in humility—a reminder that they too often act as cheerleaders for whatever Ibrox is selling, rather than as objective, critical voices. And maybe, just maybe, this is a case of reaping what you sow.

In the end, Pedro Caixinha’s tenure and its fallout is emblematic of a larger issue in the Scottish press: a willingness to buy into narratives without question, so long as they fit a preordained script. It’s the same tendency that crowned Beale without merit and which will no doubt rear its head again in future Ibrox appointments, and perhaps one not too long from now.