An interesting read from the blog by Chick Young on BBC's website. I thought it said some true points so have posted it below...
bbc sports The Glasgow Sabbath will be rent asunder with the un-holiest of hymns of praise.
And this time the churches' league fixture will decide the championship…if Rangers win, that is.
This is it for Celtic. No win equals no chance. Should they lose, their fingertips, clinging perilously to the cliff edge, will hold on no more and they will plummet 10 points behind Walter Smith's side having played one game more.
And that will be that.
In fact, a draw will be about as useful as brake lights on a Toyota.
Tony Mowbray's team are one false step from waving the championship goodbye and they can afford not at all to slip up in the inferno of Ibrox. If they lose this one they will be crisped and served like the Sunday roast.
No pressure, then, for the team that Tony built, so freshly put together that they are still trying to remember one another's names.
And, frankly, in the name of some salvation for the Scottish game, it might be better if they did win.
It has been a stinking season. Only the pound has performed more miserably in Europe than our teams.
Our pitches are either skating rinks or pig farms, although any self-respecting sow wouldn't wander on Fir Park without wee piggy wellies.
We're treating paying customers like lepers and the game is dancing on financial quicksand.
So a championship race worthy of the description would be just fine by me.
But more than that we need to restore the faith this Sunday.
Give us a football match where the ball zips over the green stuff, where for once we can talk about passing and shooting and tackling and our beautiful game.
I'm fed up talking and writing about winter shutdowns and balance sheets, about directors with pumped-up egos and deflated bank balances, of refereeing inadequacy and co-efficients that don't add up.
Let the lunatics not take over the asylum and let the players remember that their behaviour on the park triggers madness which ripples through the night and onwards to the accident and emergency units where doctors and nurses have better things to do.
Let's get the ball out of the cupboard again.
Celtic might need a miracle, but fate is a fickle companion.
Before the shambles of McDiarmid Park, Rangers could have gone 13 points clear. Instead the Parkhead club - just eight days later - have the chance to reel them into four.
In Perth, where of all places you would think they might know about the land, they couldn't look out of a window and decide the playing surface was a bit iffy. They should hang their heads in shame at St Johnstone.
There is not another strand of showbusiness on the planet - and that is what professional football is - which would treat its paying customers the way our game does.
We need a makeover and we need it urgently.
This is it, a chance to put the spit and polish - or, maybe, for Mark McGhee's sake, just the polish - back on our beloved game.
The world is watching. News bulletins await the fixture's progress.
Behave. And if you are a Celtic player, one other thing - believe.
