Brian Viner: Time for the Old Firm to look south of the border

Martin O'Neill will surely lose interest in this increasingly absurd two-horse race

Someone once told me that there are more Irish people living in Kilburn, north-west London, than in the whole of Donegal. Or was it Derry? Or even Dublin? Whatever, there is a very large number of them, and a large number of that large number were crammed, last Wednesday evening, into a pub on Kilburn High Road called The Kingdom.

They were there, of course, to watch the Uefa Cup final between Celtic and Porto (naturally, coverage along Kilburn High Road was by RTE, not the BBC).

Since I was in London for the evening, I went along too. I could have watched the match in the comfort of my friend's living-room, and there was a moment when, with my nose in the armpit of an excitable, chain-smoking giant called Dermot, I wished that I had. But knowing that Ireland produces Celtic fans at least as fanatical as those from Scotland, I thought I should treat myself to a bit of atmosphere.

On that score, as opposed to the final score, I was not disappointed. When Henrik Larsson headed each of his equalisers, a roar went up that could have woken W B Yeats from his grave. In fact, when a cadaverous old man in a green-hooped shirt pushed by me on his way to point Paddy at the porcelain, I thought that perhaps it had.

If Celtic had won, The Kingdom would have lifted off and landed in the fields of Athenry. Even in defeat, spirits were surprisingly high, and any lingering sorrows were well drowned in Guinness. Come to think of it, enough Guinness was consumed to drown the Ark Royal, never mind sorrows.

Whether those sorrows remain drowned this morning, however, is another matter. One of the drinkers in The Kingdom, Fergal Ryan, told me unequivocally that it mattered more to most Celtic fans to pip Rangers to the Scottish championship than to lift the Uefa Cup.

Failure to do either will be the cause of much wailing and gnashing of teeth (not that Fergal had many teeth left to gnash), and I must admit to being pretty gutted myself. I'm not a Catholic, but I have formed quite an attachment to Celtic these last couple of years, mainly because of my admiration for their manager, Martin O'Neill.

Celtic might just hang on to O'Neill if firm plans are made to incorporate them and Rangers into the English Premiership. Otherwise, he will surely lose interest in what is an increasingly absurd two-horse race.

The former Scotland winger Pat Nevin once defended the Old Firm duopoly to me with characteristic eloquence. In England, only four teams out of 20 were realistically capable of winning the Premiership, he said. In Scotland it was two out of 10. So where was the difference?

Well, one difference is that third-placed Hearts finished more than 30 points adrift of Rangers and Celtic yesterday. The last time on Scottish soil that two powerhouses finished proportionately so far ahead of the field was in 1977, when Hubert Green came a remote third in the Open Championship at Turnberry, 10 shots behind Tom Watson and Jack Nicklaus. And, to put that into perspective, Green's 72-hole total of 279 would have been sufficient to win the Open both the previous year at Royal Birkdale, and the following year at St Andrews.

As I have seamlessly steered on to the subject of golf, it would be remiss of me not to touch on the adventures of Annika Sorenstam, who won friends and influenced people even while missing the cut at the Colonial tournament in Fort Worth, Texas.

Yes, the participation of a woman in a men's tour event "reeked of publicity", as Nick Price had it. But there are times when a good reek focuses the mind.

And it was particularly pleasing to see Sorenstam finishing higher up the field than a whole bunch of men, including a former USPGA champion in Mark Brooks, because Scott Hoch had intimated that she would be thoroughly outclassed. This pleased me because Hoch has consistently eschewed our Open Championship on the basis that he does not like British links golf, and that he could earn more money by playing that week in the United States.

By scornfully staying away from an event in which, as one of the world's top 30 or so golfers, he should have competed, I reckon he has surrendered his right to moan about someone competing in an event he thinks she should have stayed away from. Other than that, and satisfaction that she did OK, I have no strong feelings about the rights or wrongs of Sorenstam's one-off appearance on the men's tour.

Which is more - or rather, less - than can be said for many golf enthusiasts, on both sides of the Atlantic. I think it is fair to say that the strength of feeling aroused by l'affaire Sorenstam, and in some cases the bigotry, would have been more suited to an Old Firm showdown at Celtic Park.

b.viner@independent.co.uk