Turning on the radio this morning and there is a surprise new entry in the charts. The lads have rallied round and recorded a song in tribute to my years at the mighty Rec. Not sure how much of a tribute it is listening to the lyrics…
“Oh I wish I was in the land of tartan / Old things that are not forgotten / Look away, look away, look away, Scotland / Oh I wish I was in Alloa, away, away, at the Rec I’ll take my stand, to live and die in Alloa / ‘Cause Scotland, that’s where I was born / One frosty morn / Look away, look away, look away, Scotland.
Glory, Glory, Alloa / Glory, Glory, Alloa / Glory, Glory, Alloa / The mighty gold go marching on.
So hush, little fans / Don’t you cry / You know your boss is bound to die / And all our trials, will soon be over.
Glory, Glory, Alloa / The mighty gold go marching on.”
No sure Elvis sung it like that…
Anyhow, here’s how the league table stands. We’ve got a nice gap
Beths’ stars still all weep as her men still can’t feel to believe a victory is achievable.
And who is that we’re playing? Partick ‘Bloody’ Thistle. I’m not sure we’ve beaten them all year. We can’t afford to drop too many points. And McKeown is out for a month. There’s a cold wind blowing over our private parts…
A cup game should bolster the spirits. Ponies fixed, a swift sherbet at the Winchester and the Granada having a quick polish, Carstairs finishes the job.
No wonder I’m retiring. You lot have got nothing on Walker, Texas. Although the SFA are sleep walking and pissing on their own background and surroundings with this tragic mess.
That defence is looking quite worrying.
Our defence is REALLY worrying. For the neutral, a cracking 7 minutes of action. For a manager, it’s no Eldorado. “I’m not sure Jesse Birdsall is available to sign” my assistant proclaims. “He was good in ‘Bugs’ though.”
Rangers next and I suppose a draw is good. Keeping them at arm’s length. “It depends how long your arms are” the lads reply.
Sadly, the half-time stats tell a different story. We should’ve been 3 or 4 nil up!
Champions League next and Bloody Hell! McKeown comes off the bench and is placed upfront and I can’t believe my eyes!
Courage? I couldn’t come at a worse time. Bunk is clearly a Rangers fan as he kept Jimmy out all night. Oh well, we can concentrate on the league.
Yeah, good tactic that. Setting our sights inward for a leaner look. “The human tragedy consists of the necessity of living with the consequences of our acts when under pressure” I remind the lads. They repeat their impression of early Jesus & The Mary Chain gazing at their muddied predators.
Now our cushion is so lean, it’s practically fallen over…
No idea what McKeown was playing at in the last minute. But at least we’re through to the semis!
Martin O’Neill is still at the helm, reminding everyone he had won this competition twice as a player.
A benefit of being both National and Local manager, I can rest all the Alloa men. With McKeown suspended, he’s the only one kept on the team sheet. Seth clearly didn’t agree.
This clearly works as we walk easily over Aberdeen…
…but clearly not down at Filbert Street.
“Who is this Beth you talk about every time we come here?” one of the lads ask. “I don’t need a reason…”
Pleased with the clean sheet and another two goals, I take my life in my hands by saying we shouldn’t have any more trouble for the rest of the season…
…no wonder I’m not lionized in these glens…
NOW there’s defiantly a cold wind blowing over our private parts…
Ok, we have a game in hand but that’s 11 (ELEVEN) points we’ve dropped…
The locals have given up on us too. Thankfully Dair is on my side. “I can’t draw but I can trace” he tells me. Lovely…
Back to our old sparing foes from Season 5.
Great…not sure it was necessary to wake me up at 5am to tell me…
…or that. Anything else you want to waste my time with?
Martin notes that he’s not lead goal scorer this year. He lashes out at the machine with intention.
Sportscene headlines read by Dougie Donnelly give us some hope. We won’t play our game in hand until the end of the season…
In the meantime, I leave all the Alloa boys at home and take then 2nd team to the Maracana. Bit of a waste to be honest…
Was it worth it? Ofcourse not.
Rangers win their last match and I can’t remember is it’s goal difference or goals scored that matters…Anyone know?
Alright then boys, this is the time courage matters. Rangers hopes are dashed with 4 minute as Martin is flattened by a late lunge and we play the rest of the game against 10 men.
We only gained 27 points to Rangers 38.
Happy days all round! And with Alan Shearer as manager!
Ok, this is ridiculous.
Onwards to Portugal and with Dair suspended, Swanson is upfront who is a useless as the death lodged within us all. We are woeful as McInulty confirmed with his petulance. I have no idea how we break into extra-time. With the last kick of the match, Flannigan, leaping like a salmon, powers a header into the top corner and we win.
I’ll display the whole banner.
Fresh from the delirium (thanks, Sarah!) we demolish the Red Stars.
The same with Slovakia.
I think we’re pretty much through again.
Damn right again!
Damn right again…again!
Bye Bye, Christian. He brought along his maturity, patrolling just in front of the back two.
Shading out the pledge buffed scalp of 2nd place, I’ve run riot.
I’m tired of loving recovering loving recovering loving recovering…but I’ll stick around to see if I can guide the mighty Alba to retain the Euros.
Och aye for now!