I thought I would take a little detour for my 10,000th post, and I have thought a lot recently about the past and why I am the Rangers fan I am, and who gets the credit.
The first was my dad, Jim, who took me to my first game when I was 4. I have no memory of this, but he used to enjoy telling people that even then I was criticising Greig's tactics. The first game I really remember was a 5-0 win over Clyde in the Skol Cup, and a Bobby Williamson hat trick. I went to a good few games with my dad throughout the rest of the 80s, never as many as I wanted, most of the time after we were just arguing - his view that Gough was the finest centre back he had seen, mine that he hoofed the ball up the pitch far too much, his view that Baxter was the greatest, mine that it was Laudrup, and his very strong negative opinions on Jim Denny, that I struggled to have any clue about.
But my real Rangers education was in the early 90s with my brother, Graeme. We started going to games together around the 91/92 season, and apart from the time he took his mate Kenny to the Leeds game, we were pretty much ever-present in the west enclosure in the 5IAR season and through 6, including a brief (and baffling) stint as part of the Montrose RSC (my brother lived in Perth at the time and they drove past). I got my season ticket in the first year with Brian Laudrup at the club, in the now seated West Enclosure, with my brother beside me, I was in East Kilbride still, he turned up whether living in Dunkeld, Leeds or the Isle of Man.
My fondest memory was of the great 1-0 win in an away old firm game, Laudrup scored the winner early on, we missed a penalty, and about 5 one on one with the keeper (including Van Vossen's miss) but the win was secured by an Andy Goram penalty save near the end. Graeme and I drove home that evening with scarves flying from the windows and singing our way loudly through the streets of the east end of Glasgow.
We had many a joyful European night together, and a heartbreaking one, the standout being the 2-2 draw with Marseille, although 2-1 v Bruges was a very close runner up to that.
Graeme was back in Scotland and by the time of our demotion he travelled to almost every game on our journey back up through league two, league one and our first year in the championship. Many of you will have heard his voice because he shouted louder than anyone and sang louder and more off key than anyone else there.
Graeme and I were there in Manchester with 2 tickets that cost us £550 each, and then which were suddenly refunded by eBay - after we had tickets in hand, so some poor German rip off merchant lost out big time.
My father passed away 6 years ago, more of an armchair watcher in his last 15 years, but at the ridiculous age of 64. He missed the horrific times that beset us.
My brother passed away last July, just before the 6-1 win over Hibs in the Petrofac, him, at the even more ridiculous age of 48.
I wouldn't be the bear that I am without the non-stop talking, arguing, singing, shouting, chanting and falling out over football that I had with my dad and my brother - and I know that they are always still there with us as we move on towards 55.