Rangers Fans Quotes

I don't have a lot of domestic instincts," Ranger said to me, his attention fixing on the unidentifiable glob in my hair, "but I have a real strong urge to take you home and hose you down." I went dry mouth. Connie bit into her lower lip, and Lula fanned herself with a file.

Yes, yes, I know all the jokes. What else could I have expected at Highbury? But I went to Chelsea and to Tottenham and to Rangers, and saw the same thing: that the natural state of a football fan is bitter disappointment, no matter what the score.

The ballroom was empty of people but filled with round tables and chairs. It was set for a wedding party. White tablecloths with huge pink bows and pink and white artificial flower centerpieces, a two-foot riser with a long decorated table for the bridal party, a smaller round table next to the riser. The smaller table supported a massive wedding cake that was being cooled by a standing fan. “This is so romantic,” I said to Ranger. “Does it give you ideas?” He wrapped an arm around me, dragged me close against him, and kissed me on the forehead. “Yes, it gives me ideas, but not about marriage. Mostly about setting fire to this atrocity.

Oh boy,” Lula said when she saw me. “Think we got a good story walking in the door, here. What’s with the handcuff?” “I thought it would look good with the cheese balls in my hair. You know, dress up the outfit.” “I hope it was Morelli,” Connie said. “I wouldn’t mind being cuffed by Morelli.” “Close,” I said. “It was Ranger.” “Uh-oh,” Lula said. “Think I just wet my pants.” “It wasn’t anything sexual,” I said. “It was … an accident. And then we lost the key.” Connie fanned herself with a manila folder. “I’m having a hot flash.

You’re a movie star. A celebrity with millions of fans.” “And you’re a wildlife ranger who traps giant, dangerous black bears for a living and acts like it’s no big deal. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a heaping helping of crazy, with bizarre gravy, and a slice of mashed loco for Cocoa Puffs.

What impressed me most was just how much most of the men around me hated, really hated, being there. As far as I could tell, nobody seemed to enjoy, in the way that I understood the word, anything that happened during the entire afternoon. Within minutes of the kick-off there was real anger (‘You’re a DISGRACE, Gould. He’s a DISGRACE!’ ‘A hundred quid a week? A HUNDRED QUID A WEEK! They should give that to me for watching you.’); as the game went on, the anger turned into outrage, and then seemed to curdle into sullen, silent discontent. Yes, yes, I know all the jokes. What else could I have expected at Highbury? But I went to Chelsea and to Tottenham and to Rangers, and saw the same thing: that the natural state of the football fan is bitter disappointment, no matter what the score.

When the former Negro Leagues star Buck O’Neil, now serving as a Cubs scout, said, “Mr. Holland, we’d have a better ball club if we played the blacks,” Holland didn’t disagree. But the fans were already accusing him of making the Cubs look like a Negro League team, he said. So Holland traded Jenkins to the Texas Rangers. A year later, Jenkins led the American League with 25 victories. He would win 110 more on his way to the Hall of Fame.

It came to a head when Healy, in relief of Richter and playing his former team, in front of his former fans, at Nassau Coliseum, was embarrassed and quickly yanked by Keenan. Healy could clearly be seen on the bench telling Keenan to “suck my fucking cock.” In that game, the Rangers ended a nearly five-year losing streak at Nassau on Sergei Zubov’s late goal. It didn’t mean much at the time, but it felt like a giant weight had been lifted off the Rangers’ shoulders.

The Oban lot were Rangers fans and the Balla boys were Celtic. Time to go.