IT’S a proper sore one when the opposition’s fans are taking the p*** out of you.
But when your own lot join in? Sorry, but that’s game over. So it’s proved for Stevie Naismith.
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Less than 18 hours after claiming he’d know if and when it was time to quit, the matter was taken out his hands and — just like Daniel Stendel and Robbie Neilson directly before him — he’s been sacked as Hearts manager after losing to St Mirren.
It would be lovely if football worked the way he’d wanted it to, if directors and supporters had the patience and understanding to let the guy in the dugout muddle along until the day he finally admitted defeat.
It doesn’t operate that way, though, because the two most basic principles for a guy in Naisy’s shoes are that results are everything — and that when the fans turn against you, the board’s bottle tinkles like a decanter dropped in a hospitality suite.
At Paisley on Saturday, as another game slithered away from Hearts in a blizzard of mistakes, chairwoman Ann Budge, CEO Andrew McKinlay and their colleagues heard the levels of abuse towards the dugout swell to new levels of anger.
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And they knew if they didn’t act now, they’d be the ones getting it in the neck next. Because s**** never rolls up the way.
It wasn’t so bad when the home stands rang to Hearts Are Falling Apart Again and the away end joined in with a sort of resigned irony, because that’s the kind of moment we’ve all got caught up in when things are so bad they’re almost funny.
When the mood darkened and the chants morphed to Naismith, Naismith Get Tae F***, alarm bells start ringing loud and clear in the comfy seats.
Budge and Co knew in those moments that they couldn’t afford the risk of next Saturday at home to Ross County turning that toxic, not at the start of such a huge week in the context of what’s turned into a hellish campaign.
Even a draw against County would have been catastrophic. It would have meant sacking Naismith on the eve of their long haul to Baku in Azerbaijan to face Dinamo Minsk in the Conference League, a situation that would have created all sorts of unhelpful chaos.
And when you think that they’ll be flying directly back to Aberdeen from that one for a Sunday afternoon showdown against a side who’ve WON all 11 league and cup matches so far, then they simply couldn’t allow things to stumble and bumble on the way they have been.
Put it this way. If Hibs were bottom of the table today off the back of eight straight defeats in three competitions, they’d already be on their third gaffer in two months.
That’s not me saying Hearts should have pulled the trigger earlier.
It’s just the reality of the modern game, the lightning speed with which yesterday’s forward-thinking appointment becomes today’s liability.
In the case of Naismith and sidekicks Frankie McAvoy and Gordon Forrest, that happened in the space of 39 days between them being awarded their contract extensions as a reward for European qualification and being hunted out the door for the kind of form that relegations are made of.
One draw in their opening nine games, a 0-0 at home to Rangers on the opening Saturday, is scandalous for a club with the spending power and squad size of Hearts.
As for the eight games that followed? Where do you start?
They were 3-0 down by half-time at Dundee. They were passed off the park by Falkirk in the League Cup. They were woefully passive in both Europa League play-off clashes against a bang-average Viktoria Plzen.
In between those two hapless European performances, they lost 3-1 at Motherwell. Then they went down 1-0 at home to Dundee United, then 2-0 at Parkhead and now 2-1 at St Mirren.
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They’ve scored three goals in those eight games, two of them from centre-backs.
Last season’s goals talisman, Lawrence Shankland, can’t get going and it’s clear that when this is the case, no one else is capable of picking up the slack.
But you know the thing that would drive me maddest of all if I was a Jambo? The fact they’re so bloody SOFT.
The one thing you could always put the kettle on with Hearts is that they’d be hard to beat.
They’d be horrible to play against. They’d back themselves in an arm-wrestle with all-comers. They’d get the job done, even if they were out of sorts.
Yet now, they’re easy to play against, to play through. They look like defending a set-piece was invented on a day when they were all at the zoo and missed the meeting.
There’s no steel at the back, no menace in midfield, no threat up top. There’s no spark, no growl, no invention, no tricks, no penetration.
That’s the first job for whoever comes in now, to make them hard to beat again.
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I know that sounds obvious, but it’s what Naismith, McAvoy, Forrest and a busload of experienced players couldn’t find a way to do.
One game, two games, maybe. Three and you’re getting worried. Four, five, six?
Hang on a minute, this is getting pretty serious. Seven, they might write off because it’s Celtic away. Eight, though?
All of them pretty much carbon copies of the last in terms of the way they repeat, repeat, repeat the most playground of failings?
That’s unsurvivable. And you get the feeling Naisy knew it when he said what he said on Saturday about believing he could still make things happen.
Because sometimes in life, the harder we try, the worse we make things.
IF Lennon Miller isn’t in the next full Scotland squad, there’s something seriously wrong with our future planning.
Because this boy IS the future.
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His performance for Motherwell in Friday night’s League Cup last-eight win over Dundee United was that of a 28-year-old who’s been round the world, not an 18-year-old with 36 senior starts to his name.
His speed of thought, his speed of movement, his awareness and his courage on the ball were all top drawer.
Miller created the first goal with a brilliant turn and shot that broke back for Zach Robinson to smash in. He slotted the winner in stoppage time with as cool a penalty as you’ll ever see.
Scotland need what he has, just as we need what Lewis Ferguson has once he’s fit again, just as we need what Ben Doak has and what Aaron Hickey has once HE’S fit again.
You see how quickly Belgium have got Arne Engels into their side. You see how little hesitation Spain had about blooding the likes of Lamine Yamal and Pedri.
But here we go through endless cycles of playing guys until they’re done, then searching for who’s ready to come in next.
We should be seizing the day, seeing who’s ready NOW and feeding them into the squad.
Lennon Miller’s ready for that.
And once he’s there, just see how quickly he gets even better than he already is.
ANYTHING that gives us more transparency on refereeing decisions is a good thing.
But you still can’t help thinking the findings of this new Incident Review Panel might be more of a boot where it hurts to some clubs than they are a comfort.
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I mean, it’s one thing when a blatant decision doesn’t go your way in real time.
It’s worse still when the VAR guys are checking things on their Instagram and miss it as well.
To then find out days later that you were right and the officials were wrong, but no one’s going to do a damn thing about it?
Well, you might just feel like a whole bag of salt has just been rubbed into a very fresh wound.
As an example, Kilmarnock rightly believed that St Mirren defender Shaun Rooney should have been sent off last Saturday for taking a howk at Kyle Vassell while the striker was on the deck.
Whistler Matthew McDiarmid didn’t think so. Neither, somehow, did colleague Andrew Dallas back in the studio.
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The Incident Review Panel, to their credit, took one look and saw what everyone else had seen — it was a straight red.
You just have to wonder what good that does the club who’ve been wronged once the game’s long gone.
