“I have done nothing compared to some of the really top English managers like Sam Allardyce, Alan Pardew. These guys are steeped in the game.”
So said The Warbmeister.
But that hasn’t stopped the Daily Mail from running the kind of epic profile puff-piece that you would normally expect to see about veteran trophy-laden managers. Rather than a largely-unknown guy who has won nothing other than the orgasmic appreciation of a Scottish press pack who are impressed if a Sevco manager so much as sneezes.
Yes folks, Warbo is apparently ‘saving’ Rangers!
If he’s saving them from liquidation and death then I stand ready to salute the powers of his Magic Hat, and marvel at the size of his personal warchest which is being used to pay off all those stiffed creditors.
Sadly however, I think that the ‘saving’ he is doing is of the less tangible and cheaper variety.
Not least because according to the Mail:
“After some torrid recent times — financial irregularities saw Rangers demoted to Division Three in 2012 — this great club are inching forward again. Rangers have a new board and, though complications remain, Warburton believes he can take the club back into the Champions League.”
You would think that if the Mail was going to the trouble of writing such an epic piece it would get the basic facts right, wouldn’t you? Oh. No you wouldn’t… Fair enough…
Remarkably, we actually learn very little from the lengthy article, although we do get to hear an anecdote about Warbo changing a tyre on the M25, which will presumably keep him in after-dinner speaking engagements long after his tales of winning the Champions League with Sevco have become boring…
As you can imagine, there are some wonderfully vacuous and unwittingly funny observations in the piece. For example
“Warburton, 53, is an analytical man. He would not have taken this job had his own research not told him Rangers were no longer the basketcase club of recent years.”
“Warburton’s greeting is warm, though. He is impeccably mannered. Already the restructuring job has been significant. Sixteen players left when last season ended in a play-off final defeat but this is how Warburton likes it. A blank canvas.”
[Warbo:] “The fans turn up and you may lose but if you have grafted and been committed then the fans will have that. The key point was to show them we are hungry — and use the media to get that across”.
I can imagine it is a Herculean task to get the Scottish press to convey a positive message about your team’s efforts Mark! Well done on your success!
“Here, he has a chance to implement ideas that first came to him as he worked the trading floors of banks in London, America and Asia and were then developed at Watford’s youth academy and subsequently at first-team level at Brentford.”
You can just imagine the sign on the side of his yellow robin reliant van: “Warburton’s Independent Traders – London, America, Asia, Watford”…
Personally (and not that he should care anyway), but I quite like The Warbmeister. He seems a genuine sort of guy and he obviously loves the game. The material in the Mail’s profile about the coaching he did while working as a City Trader [you DID know he used to be a City Trader, didn’t you?], speaks volumes about a very committed and enthusiastic wannabe coach and manager.
I find his constant talk of ‘respect’ to be utterly tedious, and his amnesia about Sevco’s attempts to sign Scott Allan is just laughable. But other than that, he seems reasonable enough and certainly a refreshing change from the ‘Real Rangersness’ swagger of the McCoist era at Sevco.
However, the almost constant hyping of his meagre achievements to date, and the recounting of his City Trader ‘backstory’ as if it’s a tale of heroism is nothing less than irritating and positively invites ridicule.
That may well not be Warbo’s fault, but if – as he suggests – he is mindful of the image the media puts forward of his side, he might like to suggest they tone it down a bit!
Of course, if he isn’t minded to do that, The Clumpany and others are more than happy to keep laughing at the hilarious spectacle.