IF EVER there was a conceited scheme, if ever there was a house of cards, then Dave Cormack’s diet surely is.
Back in March, when he was getting shot by Derek McInnes, I was far from the only one warning Dons fans to be careful what they wish for.
The problem is, they’ve bought into the whole American dream, like football fans have from day one when rich men started waving wads of cash in our faces.
“I’ll build you a training ground!” said a guy with charisma and gleaming teeth. “I’m going to build you a super-stadium!” Meet the new boss, the best thing since sliced rowies! Watch us spend, spend, spend out of mediocrity!
Fast-forward, though, and listen to the traveling support scream for Stephen Glass to be emptied into the nearest recycling bin – not to mention the rookie gaffer himself saying he understands why.
At most clubs of this most throwaway era, his jacket would have already been on the shoogliest ankles.
In Aberdeen, however, the only thing in the manager’s favor – no matter how floundering he is – is that for Sugardaddy Cormack to give in to the fans would mean a massive loss of face and that doesn’t seem to be his style.
He handed a goofy rookie a huge bag of transfer money, so he would admit his own judgment was wrong the first time he was properly tested.
I wrote those words in October, on a Monday morning after the Dons lost 2-1 away to bottom-of-the-table Dundee to go ten on the rebound without a win.
At the time, the Red Army was crying blue murder.
One hundred and 17 days later, soaked to the skin behind the Fir Park goals, 2,000 of them turned purple with rage as their season came to a close with the softest of Cup outings ever. Scotland.
And this time, even Cormack’s vanity wasn’t enough to save his manager from the inevitable.
Not once did the sugar daddy himself show his face in the main stand at Motherwell and those fans started to turn against him.
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Because we all know the drill. From presidents to prime ministers, any pretense of standing alongside underlings evaporates once the man at the top starts to face the flak – and so, under the homecoming bus, the gaffer is gone.
It’s hard to argue that sacking Stephen Glass is the right move, not when a win in seven this year – against fourth tier Edinburgh City – tells how little Aberdeen has gone from his first rotten race in the fall. .
They have now lost three times this season to Well, twice to St Mirren and dropped ten points in the last three, as well as leaving Europe early and docile and being knocked out of the League Cup at Raith.
But don’t expect me to call him a failure, because for all his obvious flaws, the guy wrong here is a president with an ego the size of an oil rig, a cowboy who got into Scottish football and determined people who had been immersed in it all their lives knew they were squatting.
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That’s Dave Cormack’s take on everything since taking over at Pittodrie, from what makes a good manager to when games should start, to why punters should be allowed to drink in the stands and everything else.
His neck wound is so deep that he makes Gladstone Small look like a giraffe.
There are times when you wonder if he’s trying to top Ted Lasso. Now, however? Alright, now it’s getting serious.
It turned out that his judgment was seriously flawed. He suffers a huge loss of face. And let’s face it, there aren’t many enjoying every moment.
So now he has to do it. He needs to pick a replacement for Glass who hits the ground running, puts them in the top six and offers some kind of optimism for next season.
He might as well. After all, he didn’t build a business and sell it for £567m by being an idiot.
But if he does, every hardcore Aberdeen fan will be entitled to ask this very relevant question: why didn’t you do it the first time?
It’s a fair cry, too. Why did such a tough tycoon come into a club that means so much to his city and give it a manager whose previous experience was an average spell with the reserve squad of an MLS team ?
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The only reason I keep coming back is ego. I can’t forget that Dave Cormack thought Dave Cormack knew better than everyone else, that Stephen Glass would still be the outstanding candidate even if Mourinho and Conte applied – and that even if he did, Dave Cormack would have taken all the credit.
Well, now let’s see how he handles the stick that comes with Aberdeen being in a mess that’s largely of his own making.
They have St Johnstone on Tuesday then return to Motherwell next Saturday knowing two wins could propel them to the top of the table.
But just as easily, two losses and the poor result or two elsewhere could plunge them into the bottom three.
Relegation play-off against Derek McInnes and Killie, whoever. . . ?
It’s been 15 years now since a teenager named Lewis Stevenson played in midfield as Hibs lifted the League Cup on a snowy day at Hampden.
A decade and a half in which Easter Road seems to have been in a constant state of flux, when 11 bosses have come and gone, along with so many players that the dressing room should have a revolving door.
Yet there he was, Mr. Reliable, steering the ship again as Gayfield’s gales pushed him toward the rocks of disaster.
He was even back in the engine room, where it all started, to set up the equalizer just when 1-0 looked like turning into a deuce and central to everything they did to win a 3-1 victory.
Whatever “it” is, Stevenson, above, has it clearly in the eyes of everyone from John Collins to Shaun Maloney to Yogi, Mixu, Stubbs, Lennon and so many others – and you can’t only admire the attitude that keeps them all coming back. to him.
They needed every ounce of that attitude on an afternoon when part-time Arbroath looked healthier and could have easily turned dreams into reality.
Whoever’s stopping them from winning the championship had better put on their toughest suit.
HOW to suck every ounce of drama out of the Scottish Cup draw?
Stage it at the back of ten on a Monday night.
Maybe the blazer geniuses who came up with THIS brilliant idea have convinced themselves that the nation will be stuck at Peterhead against Dundee by the millions.
But while that’s a nice thought, the reality is that for all but the seriously committed armchair fan, it’s nonsense of a timing.
Last Sunday, FA Cup fifth round draws came out of the hat before Liverpool played Cardiff at midday live on ITV.
Apart from the fact that this guaranteed maximum viewership, it also made all the teams playing that day aware of who was waiting for them.
Imagine being little Boreham Wood, showing up at Bournemouth with your win bonus suddenly overshadowed by the thought of going to Goodison next. What an elevator. What a thrill.
Yet what do we get? The bottom eight were chosen as an afterthought, once legions of children are in bed and the first editions of the morning paper are about to come out – and that’s before the prospect of extra time and penalties. Bonkers.
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