Attention! Attention! It’s all the blank Czech has
By Donal Glass
Firstly, an apology. I was always taught that throwing around dirty words was that sign of immaturity. So here I go — Vaclav Cerny.
I know, I know — I should let him fizzle out like his medal chances, instead of giving him any more notoriety, but the continued ignorance around him prompted me to speak. A similar thing happened when my mate borrowed my sweat shorts and pissed in them.
Now, we can debate all day about whether reporting his antics to the police was necessary or excessive, whether fans should simply move on, or whether his reckless celebration deserves a lengthy ban. For me, those arguments miss the central point, which is that Cerny himself is nothing more than a bum — a weak-minded loser who doesn’t even belong in the conversation of elite footballers.
First, let’s lay out the facts about Cerny — because, unlike Barry Ferguson today, who conveniently ducked the issue entirely, facts actually matter. Yes, Cerny has some talent, nobody denies that. But having talent and being able to use it consistently are two very different things. His career, let’s be honest, peaked early and dropped off a cliff quicker than a drunk driver on a coast road.
Cerny’s solitary league title medal came from a grand total of 16 appearances spread across four seasons at Ajax, landing him one winner’s medal at the ripe old age of 27. Even then, he spent most of his title-winning season warming a bench, racking up just five appearances as a substitute — hardly the stuff of legend. Yes, Ajax won the KNVB Cup that year too, but guess who was nowhere to be found in the semis and the final? You guessed it: the great Vaclav Cerny, superstar in his own mind, absent when it mattered.
Which brings us neatly to the present day — on loan from Wolfsburg (where he lasted precisely one underwhelming year) to Ibrox, a ground now rightly known as football’s own Theatre of Groans. Yes, he’s had injuries, but it’s not his body that’s his main problem — it’s his weak, puerile mind. His antics at Celtic Park, his antics, simply highlights how childish and attention-seeking the guy really is.
Let’s remember: Cerny’s pathetic little show of bravado came after he’d been hauled off by his manager for bottling a chance to actually make a difference by scoring a meaningful goal. It’s like watching your watching your brother snogging the girl you like and fist-bumping him because one of you nabbed her.
But the real indictment of him is what he hasn’t done — when his team desperately needed him. Like the 97 minutes of sheer unadulterated joy when Queen’s Park ended his club’s season. Cerny? Hiding. Two weeks later when St Mirren were handing The Rangers, their second humiliation of the campaign — Missing through Inaction.
Elite football isn’t about strutting around grinning like Rodney Marsh any more. It’s about consistently delivering when it means the most. Cerny went to Ibrox off the back of flopping for the Czech Republic at the Euros, though he did recently achieve the career highlight of scoring against the global football powerhouse Gibraltar. Cue applause.
The hard truth is, Cerny’s exactly where he deserves to be: pissing around in a blue jersey at the loserdrome that is Ibrox Park. He has all the swagger of a top-class player and none of the delivery. His career tells us precisely who he is — a mediocre journeyman with a massive need to be noticed and a glass mentality.
Let him revel in his own mediocrity. After all, he’s in good company at Ibrox.