The most stunning thing about the Ibrox crisis is how subdued it all looks over there.

It is hard to believe that three days have passed since one of the most shocking football results in the history of Scottish football, and the Ibrox manager has yet to be pushed onto his sword.

Falling onto his sword was never going to happen, for reasons I outlined yesterday, but I think most people assumed the club would act—that they would find the strength and the money to do what had to be done.

It is a strange thing indeed how used to all this the Ibrox fans have become. They no longer feel bitter or angry at their club for this. If you go on their forums or listen to their podcasts—and I listened to a few of them yesterday to gauge their reactions and emotions—most of them are just flat.

Most of them are empty now. They don’t feel anything anymore. This just washes over them in a wave, and they wait for the next one to come in. And it dawns on me: they are now willing to tolerate anything. The fury should have already erupted. They should be protesting outside the club day and night until they get change. But they have shown themselves to be the weakest part of the whole structure.

I feel sure that eventually, they’re going to force their club into some pretty ugly compromises. But the fact that they haven’t been able to muster the anger to remove a manager who is obviously failing is incredible to me. It hasn’t even dawned on them yet that the best way to do it is to make a joint approach—with all the major podcasts and website heads coming together with the heads of the Trust and everyone else—to issue a unified statement calling on the club to act.

But I don’t think that will happen, because there are too many petty rivalries among their support. There’s too much backstabbing going on for them to come together, even in the most important cause facing their club.

Instead, they continue to rely on the media to do the job for them. Take Scott McDermott, for example—this morning, he wrote about how Clement had signed his own death warrant with the supporters in his post-match interview at the weekend. Yet here we are, three days on from that interview, and I see no sign that the fans are ready to execute that death warrant.

In fact, the only real display of anger or frustration—the only visible protest—was the one at the end of the game, which some newspapers have highlighted.

But that was mostly one guy shouting his mouth off. I didn’t hear much protest from those around him.

In some ways, it’s a pity too, because this is what a lot of us were looking forward to seeing from these foot-stamping maniacs—a little bit of protest, a little bit of demonstration, a little bit of insanity unmasked. And we had every reason to expect that, because this, after all, was the support that marched on the BBC for telling them the truth, that threatened to march on Hampden more than once.

But maybe that’s the point. The fans who protested the BBC were fans of a different club. Those were Rangers fans fighting to hold on to the last vestige of power they had.

Fans of the new club are a different breed, it seems to me—mostly because they recognise, deep down, that they’re following a different club, and perhaps they don’t have the same emotional investment in it.

The old Rangers fans protested at the drop of a hat. These guys? Not so much. There were occasional demos against the so-called “spivs,” but even that never rose to the level of those images of fans outside the offices of the national broadcaster way back in October 2011.

So, in some ways, it’s been nearly 15 years since the Ibrox fans had a proper protest, and they’ve forgotten how to do it. I do know that bed sheets in the stands aren’t going to move this board of directors. I do know that’s not going to send them to the boardroom to show this manager the door.

When their AGM went off virtually without a hitch, you knew then that if it came to forcing the board to act, a lot of these guys didn’t have what it takes. The current Ibrox support, for all they think they’re special, is actually a neutered version of what it once was. As I said the other day, the real problem they’ll have after this season isn’t anger—it’s apathy. And apathy is more dangerous than anger to any board of directors. That may be what eventually shifts them in the direction the fans want, but a major fan revolt, a concerted fan action, is looking increasingly unlikely.

Right now, they’re just waiting on the club. But if the club does nothing, then what? Do these people have the motivation, the backbone, to get personally involved and take some form of concerted action?

When the Union Brats staged their bizarre, pointless, self-defeating walkout a month or so ago, let’s not forget that they got booed by their fellow supporters.

One ranting Ibrox fan on Radio Clyde the other day talked about empty seats at games, and it’s been noticeable when you watch Ibrox matches on TV—there are empty seats all over the place. And that’s the first sign that real apathy is setting in. If it does, then, as I’ve said before, that club could really be on a death spiral.

So you’d think action has to be taken. But three days on, it hasn’t been. The club is doing nothing, and the fans, despite all the noise and fury on the forums, are doing nothing either. They are stuck in the mud, and that is a bad place to be.

Photo by Craig Foy/SNS Group via Getty Images

The other night we put up our latest podcast. Recorded just after the Ibrox club went crashing out of the cup, we called it They’re Simply Depressed.