Today is different. Glasgow’s footballing arena has changed forever. Yesterday, I met the young Rangers’ men, who are striding into our world, where more will follow and take on the mighty Queens Park for our footballing crown.
The coal fire glows in my Moray Place abode, while Emelia, my life companion, lies stretched out on our large couch, exhausted from chasing our children, Arabella, Adair and Lewis, around the house. Swissy, my faithful dog, lies at my feet, content in having his master back in the household.
The candles gently melt, while I reflect, with a Mortlach whisky in hand, the last five years of Queens Park’s existence. In 1867, we strode onto Queens Park Recreation Ground to enjoy ourselves, where piles of old clothes marked the goalposts and playing field. Football was simple.
Our band of brothers has exceeded all expectations taking association football rules and adapting it to our own passing game, handed down through countless generations of Scots. Foot-Ball is recorded in Scotland for over five hundred years, quintessentially summed up by John Hope’s Foot-Ball Club, and is the purest team sport in the world.
One cannot win on their own and only prospers through the combined team effort.
Scottish football is at the end of its beginning. The next era of our story awaits.