Alanbileysfeathercut
Player Valuation: £80m
Come on lads.
It's the rangers
It's the rangers
centralTon
Player Valuation: £10m
I'm great, don't worry about me, but I fear for the Snake.
Edit to add...Have been given another warning by Roydo about my language on here without the right to reply apparently...
Last edited:
Archer
Player Valuation: £750k
Should probably stop swearing and stick to talking about this dosser country and their lack of talent at football or anything besides sticking needles in their arms.I'm great, don't worry about me, but I fear for the Snake.
Edit to add...Have been given another warning by Roydo about my language on here without the right to reply apparently...
centralTon
Player Valuation: £10m
Ah! The old Scotland has a drug problem scenario. No drugs in England or Livepewl...stick to being a gammon mate.
@Archer does have a point
Scotland has worst drugs problem in Europe as death rate soars
Scotland’s drugs death rate is now higher than the USA and every other country in Europe, and three times the UK average, according to shocking new figures.
www.telegraph.co.uk
Anyway, great result for Scotland winning away to Cyprus.
Archer
Player Valuation: £750k
Inappropriate Behaviour
Also all their women prostitute themselves to get the money for their next hit.@Archer does have a point
Scotland has worst drugs problem in Europe as death rate soars
Scotland’s drugs death rate is now higher than the USA and every other country in Europe, and three times the UK average, according to shocking new figures.
Anyway, great result for Scotland winning away to Cyprus.
gonetomorrow
Player Valuation: £70m
And the men. We all do it. Why, only this morning....
Alanbileysfeathercut
Player Valuation: £80m
Alan Irvine for the jambos?
So if Russia get kicked out of the tournament do Scotland qualify automatically?
Good win tonight, good to see Naismith on the scoresheet, always liked his attitude and spirit.
I believe that would be the situation
gonetomorrow
Player Valuation: £70m
Hurrah! It'll be like Ally's Army all over again.
Think it would be good if it happens. Irvine was the most innovative u21 coach we've had back when he looked after them. A bit different of course Managing adult teams but he certainly had something back then.
Fisher’s Derby Buckie v Deveronvale tonight in Highland League Cup, on what will be a cold, windy night. Why bother? Indeed, hard to explain, but just read an extract from a book called “ Barcelona to Buckie, Exploring Football’s Roads Less Travelled” . It’s a long read but may explain it!
Barcelona to Buckie Thistle: Exploring Football’s Roads Less Travelled
Buckie extract
Victoria Park, Buckie sits looking down at the town and the North Sea. The back to the main stand, which spills out into a road hugging right up against it, acts as a windbreak on a wild day. Protecting the middle third of the pitch from the worst of the winter storms, the goalmouths get no such luck. It is easy to imagine huddled keepers cursing their positional choice, trying to stand firm among bitter gales, supporters pinned to the back of the covered terracing on the far side of the pitch, faces raw from the freezing easterlies.
That day, however, a flag fluttered lazily on a flagpole above the main stand. A steward wandered from the players’ entrance, stepping out into the road to stand in the sun for a few moments before returning to his voluntary position. Laughter and screams from children playing on a set of swings and a roundabout in the play park came from across the way. Those supporters decked in shirts and scarves who had just walked up from town stopped to chat with a few club officials stood by the turnstiles. It was a scene of timeless familiarity, a routine more than 100 years old.
Though having never set eyes on it before, it felt like I had because of the little unspoken rituals that play out the same up and down the country: turning up at a certain time, paying through a specific turnstile, taking up a spot in the stand or on the terracing. Why? It’s where we always go. It’s what we always do. My parents first took me to this spot. Their parents took them. And I stand here too, with my children, grandchildren. Unspoken rituals knitted deep into the unconscious.
Through the narrow turnstile, Victoria Park was a vision of devotion. Painted perimeter walls, tea huts, terrace barriers and toilet blocks gleamed a brilliant white. It had been a busy off-season for someone. At the centre of it all, the pitch basked in the sun a resplendent emerald green, while the unforgettable smell of deep heat emanated from the changing rooms somewhere within the bowels of the stand. Mingling with the rich smell of freshly painted and varnished old wooden stairs that lead up to the rows of benches sheltering beneath the vaulted corrugated roof of the main stand, it is a footballing scent for all time.
From the images littering the match programme celebrating 100 years of Victoria Park, it looked like the stand had hardly changed during its long service taking care of Buckie’s support. A team photo taken in front of it back in 1939 could have been taken last year, but for the dated hair styles and heavy-looking kit. How many times those old stairs had been treated, varnished, painted a vibrant yellow and green over the years no one could surely know. That they had seen every kick of every game, possibly right back to 1919, does not seem outlandish – a small-time monument to the Jags and all who believe in it.
Barcelona to Buckie Thistle: Exploring Football’s Roads Less Travelled
Buckie extract
Victoria Park, Buckie sits looking down at the town and the North Sea. The back to the main stand, which spills out into a road hugging right up against it, acts as a windbreak on a wild day. Protecting the middle third of the pitch from the worst of the winter storms, the goalmouths get no such luck. It is easy to imagine huddled keepers cursing their positional choice, trying to stand firm among bitter gales, supporters pinned to the back of the covered terracing on the far side of the pitch, faces raw from the freezing easterlies.
That day, however, a flag fluttered lazily on a flagpole above the main stand. A steward wandered from the players’ entrance, stepping out into the road to stand in the sun for a few moments before returning to his voluntary position. Laughter and screams from children playing on a set of swings and a roundabout in the play park came from across the way. Those supporters decked in shirts and scarves who had just walked up from town stopped to chat with a few club officials stood by the turnstiles. It was a scene of timeless familiarity, a routine more than 100 years old.
Though having never set eyes on it before, it felt like I had because of the little unspoken rituals that play out the same up and down the country: turning up at a certain time, paying through a specific turnstile, taking up a spot in the stand or on the terracing. Why? It’s where we always go. It’s what we always do. My parents first took me to this spot. Their parents took them. And I stand here too, with my children, grandchildren. Unspoken rituals knitted deep into the unconscious.
Through the narrow turnstile, Victoria Park was a vision of devotion. Painted perimeter walls, tea huts, terrace barriers and toilet blocks gleamed a brilliant white. It had been a busy off-season for someone. At the centre of it all, the pitch basked in the sun a resplendent emerald green, while the unforgettable smell of deep heat emanated from the changing rooms somewhere within the bowels of the stand. Mingling with the rich smell of freshly painted and varnished old wooden stairs that lead up to the rows of benches sheltering beneath the vaulted corrugated roof of the main stand, it is a footballing scent for all time.
From the images littering the match programme celebrating 100 years of Victoria Park, it looked like the stand had hardly changed during its long service taking care of Buckie’s support. A team photo taken in front of it back in 1939 could have been taken last year, but for the dated hair styles and heavy-looking kit. How many times those old stairs had been treated, varnished, painted a vibrant yellow and green over the years no one could surely know. That they had seen every kick of every game, possibly right back to 1919, does not seem outlandish – a small-time monument to the Jags and all who believe in it.
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