Ibrox has ruled out a fly-on-the-wall money maker. What a shame for us all.

You have to hand it to the media and their bizarre ideas for scraping a few more bucks out of the Ibrox supporters, and for boosting the coffers through weird and wonderful means. They really do believe that there’s a magic money tree out there just begging to be harvested. Some of the things they’ve suggested over the years are so far out there that it makes you wonder what planet they’re on.

Then there are those schemes they try to push over and over again, but which never go anywhere. Stadium naming rights is one of them, and I think that’s probably something the club will eventually have to consider. The American investors certainly will, especially if things get really desperate and they find themselves in a financial hole.

But my favourite of all the madcap possibilities is the idea that the club would subject itself to a fly-on-the-wall documentary.

My disappointment yesterday, when I read that the new owners aren’t even considering that, was real and genuine. I’m not making this up—I was gutted to hear that it’s not an idea they’re exploring.

Because I would watch that.

I know I would watch that. Nothing would expose the fantasy land in which many of their fans—and the media—appear to live more than an in-house look at the reality of what that club is going to have to be over the next 12 months and beyond.

I’ve said this for ages: there are few projects in the history of Scottish football that would excite me more than Sevco: The Movie.

And I know why they don’t want to do it.

I can understand why it’s off the table, and it’s got nothing to do with the 49ers knocking it back. The Record article is right to say that they’re one of the NFL clubs which hasn’t participated in the All or Nothing documentary series. They’re right too that when Leeds did take part in one of those fly-on-the-wall series, it was before the 49ers took over. But that’s not the reason they don’t want to do it over there.

They are miles away from being able to let cameras in to see the true state of that club. And it might be a long time before they’re in any kind of position to do so. If the cameras were given unfettered access, who knows what they’d find?

I know the rest of the world would look at that club with utter disbelief at some of the backward redneck types who inhabit every level of it. The “Real Ranjurs Men” might have been cleared out of the boardroom, but there are still plenty of people inside those walls who are fully on board the Jimmy Bell bus—and all the baggage it carries.

One of the things Welcome to Wrexham did so well was its focus on the club’s culture, and even on its fans. It had an episode where it gave you a little look at the hooligan element—which stalks them, as it does a lot of clubs south of the border, and a fair few up here too. But where would you even start with an episode about the Ibrox fanbase?

The Barcelona riot. The Manchester riot. Pamplona. The sectarian songs. The banners. The thrown objects. The endless video footage of fans abroad saying things that make your skin crawl.

Imagine trying to talk to supporter leaders… Christ, how could you even be sure you could interview someone and put them on camera without it coming back to bite you in the future?

The ex-hooligans. The guy they kicked off the board after only a few days because they found out he was an Islamophobe—as though that should have come as some great shock. Another of their prominent fans, and a former fan media guy, was charged just weeks ago with racially abusing a Labour councillor.

So any kind of documentary that focused on the club—and which had to include the fans in order to give a complete picture—would risk becoming a millstone. It would risk becoming an embarrassment and a deterrent to the very investors they’re hoping to attract by exposing the club to a wider audience.

These documentaries are amazing to watch. It is brilliant to see the inner workings of football clubs. But not all of them are flattering.

Sunderland ‘Til I Die remains the gold standard. Those first two seasons were absolute car crash stuff. It’s incredible to me that anyone was given that much access and allowed to present it however they liked. It’s compelling precisely because it didn’t try to airbrush out the negative stuff—and you’d think any documentary maker would have been under pressure to do that.

But Ibrox is so often not a pleasant place that there would be all sorts of pressure on the editors to cut so much that there’d barely be anything left. What would remain would hardly be worth watching. And that’s the only issue I’d have with tuning in—knowing in advance that so many juicy moments would never make the final cut.

Even so, can you imagine what it would have looked like if they’d agreed to do this 10 years ago and signed a multi-year contract? We’d have had the time of our lives watching and rewatching it. Even with the best editing in the world, that club would still look like a shambles. And I think even with the best editing in the world, it will look like a shambles far into the future.

That’s why I’m sad because this was a missed opportunity, not for them, but for the rest of us. Because I want to see that more than I want The Wire to come back on TV.