Rangers; Why I Just Can't Quit you

Rationally I have known since I became an adult that my team is, and always has been, a shining example of intolerance, bigotry, smugness, entitledness, conservatism, snobbery, racism and bullshit of a thousand hues. And now it turns out that they haven't been paying their taxes - for years and years. In an important sense, every game they have won during that time needs to have an asterisk placed next to it. Every win bought with stolen money. It stinks. I should quit.

But this was the team that my Dad watched in the 1930's and 40's, standing on the Ibrox terraces with his big brothers John and Donald, cheering on legends like George Young and  Tiger Shaw [a wonderful gentleman who I was able to meet as a wee boy in 1977]. The team whose successes he secretly smiled at in later years as a Free Presbyterian minister who wasn't supposed to even think about worldy vanities like football.

This was the team that I supported as a child, despite the fact that they never really won anything between 1966 and 1976. The team I followed in college, mostly at away games at the great cathedrals of football that were Easter Road, Tynecastle and Brockville in the 1980s. Getting crushed half to death at that bend you had to go round to exit the away end at Easter Road [a frightening prequel to what happened at Hillsborough], chased outside Celtic Park, and a hundred other stupidities.

You don't get to quit on that.
Though the Streets be broad or narrow. Follow we will.