VACANCY: Old Firm manager. Would suit thick-skinned hermit with no interest in long-term career development. Salary negotiable (but not nearly as much as at some English clubs where the pressure is a lot less).
The preceding words did not appear on the Celtic website yesterday, nor are they ever likely to be uttered by Rangers the next time they are on the lookout for a new boss. But they constitute an accurate picture of jobs which, while remaining highly
attractive for many in football, can also turn into nightmares.
One brief look back at last weekend highlights the pressure that the men in the high seat at both Ibrox and Parkhead are under, and the unrealistic expectations placed upon them by a section of their own support and of the wider footballing public. Since his team beat Dundee United 3-0 on Sunday to claim the SPL title, Walter Smith has been lauded to the skies. His sagacity, his calmness in the heat of the battle, his ability to deal with the various problems Rangers have faced this season: those qualities and others have been hailed, and perhaps rightly so.
But what if Smith's team had just failed to win their first championship in four seasons? What if United, with a place in Europe still to play for, had taken at least a point, and Celtic had beaten Hearts at home instead of only drawing?
The title would have then gone to Gordon Strachan's team, and serious questions would have been asked about Smith's future. A minor swing in fortunes – all it would have taken on the day for Celtic, not Rangers, to become champions – would have resulted in a major shift in perception of the two central protagonists.
That would be understandable to an extent, for the financial consequences of failing to win the title would have been severe and long-lasting for Rangers team. But it would be unfair on Smith.
Similarly, Strachan came within 90 minutes of winning his fourth title on the trot. Had he done so, a sizeable segment of the Celtic support would still have called for his head. Once he failed, his positive achievements, such as twice taking the club to the last 16 of the Champions League, were forgotten by many, and his resignation the following day was greeted in some quarters with undisguised pleasure.
To be an Old Firm manager is the equivalent in Scottish society of being appointed head of one of those legendary tribes who appoint a man king for a year, swamp him with material treasures for the duration – and then, when his time is up, put him to death. Granted, those whose shelf-life in charge of Rangers and Celtic is deemed to be over are actually permitted to walk off the premises. But they often find there is nowhere for them to walk to, other than into the sunset or towards the retirement home.
Especially if you want to continue living in Scotland, there is often nowhere to go once you have been an Old Firm manager. The Scotland job may crop up, as it did for Smith but not (yet) for Strachan, but there are few openings within club football.
That is after the job. During it, there is the dubious pleasure of being in the spotlight wherever you go. One half of Glasgow adores you: the other abhors you. Both halves are eager to remind you of the fact whenever you attempt something as straightforward as a meal out or a visit to the shops.
Let's not feel too sorry for Old Firm managers. They are well rewarded for what they do, and the problems they face after they leave Celtic or Rangers are far outweighed by what most lesser mortals have to deal with.
But compared to the lives of other managers, especially at many top-flight English clubs, they do have a hard time. The pressure is greater and the salaries are smaller, as are the budgets to buy new players.
Yet the expectations are greater. It is a strong man who can shoulder that burden and emerge unbroken. At the very least, a certain prickliness can become ingrained in the personality.
Take Strachan. At Southampton he was rightly regarded as one of the most thoughtful coaches in the game. Approachable, affable and usually relaxed around St Mary's, he would offer a civil answer to a civil question whether directed at him by a journalist or a passing supporter.
Once he was at Celtic Park, that warmth soon began to diminish. He had been quick-witted and quixotic, but it was not too long before his retorts started being curter, less friendly.
If you are impervious to criticism and constant scrutiny, or if you have no interest in maintaining any sort of social life, you may thrive as an Old Firm manager. Otherwise, for all the undeniable attractions of the job, you might just want to give it a miss.
