The Day I Noticed Sports Stars Are Just People, Thanks to Glasgow Rangers

As we pull up to the gates of Murray Park, my nerves are getting to me. I’ve never been the “star struck” type but this is the work place of my beloved Glasgow Rangers.

Upon walking in the first team entrance, I spot Artur Numan holding up the wall and was instantly “star struck." Wow Artur Numan, I thought, until I spotted his cowboy boots. What a bummer, my hero is in love with John Wayne.

Standing by reception, is small man in a leather coat, he is clearly agitated about something. A rather bruising looking Rangers “driver” waits to take Shota Arveladze home but as with all walks of life, you just can’t get some people out the door.

One can’t blame him mind, who would want to leave Murray Park? It is a fantastic venue, one Rangers used to use as bait when snaring or was it attracting quality to Ibrox?

Bert Konterman hangs around reception waiting for a class of school kids. The big Dutchman it appears has been nominated for public relations duty. You could almost feel sorry for him, it is the most responsibility Rangers have given him in a while but it was the kids I felt most sorry for.

They’d probably been promised a Rangers legend.

The mood around the place isn‘t great, Rangers lost to Motherwell yesterday, the early morning training session and team briefing had left an atmosphere which could be felt hanging around the blue corridors of the five star facility like a Konterman back pass.

It was for this reason we weren’t taken and introduced to then boss, Alex McLeish. Presumably, his face was still redder than his mullet.

We went instead to see the facilities on offer, from wave pools to gyms. My favourite is the indoor training pitch, which having yet to be tidied from training has a sporadic covering of footballs. Our guide must have seen me itching as he told me to “go ahead.”

It felt pretty special knocking those balls about, pinging 30 yarders in the general direction of the goal and just then, the Pied Piper brought his class of 2002 into the hall and they all watched on, whispering as I booted the balls about. “Wow that guy is awesome,” I’m sure I heard it.

Back outside the hall, a kid runs bye but it was only when the guide shouted “Mo” that I realised it was wee Maurice Ross. The right back is running around doing errands for the gaffer.

Only now, when I look back on it, do I think I know wee Mo’s problem at Ibrox.

All that pressure but the only kid in Glasgow who couldn’t buy a bottle of buck fast. Imagine being in the Rangers first team and still being asked to identify yourself at every turn. Being a baby face myself, I can sympathise with him.

Maybe that is why he moved to the blond world of Scandinavia, in order to stand out more. Scandinavia wouldn’t help me though, I’m blond. Ten years on the world’s poorest continent taught me, I stand out like an Albino kid in a South African township.

So there you have it, next time your day dreaming about a kick about at Murray Park or Ibrox, look up from your desk, spot the guy holding up the wall, the weirdo at reception and guy you wouldn’t trust to make a photo copy.

The boss is probably still hiding in his office while someone (hopefully not you) is doing all his dirty work.

It would appear your workspace isn’t much different to your heroes office after all and there is no need to worry about your choice of shoes.