Red top red faced over Jock Stein slur

Sports journalists are a breed apart. This is a rule, and therefore with exceptions but, by definition, too few to undermine the inherent truth of the statement.

That much has long been understood by anyone who has ever worked at a moderately sized title, mixed with a few hacks or even read the back pages as well as the front.

They have their own style guides – happily contradicting the edicts applying to other desks; their own understanding of the profile of their readership and how it is best served and, more importantly, their own set of standards and values.

The logic behind the latter factor is that, frankly, sport doesn’t matter. As long as it entertains and doesn’t leave the title liable to any risk, pretty much anything can be written within the general parameters of the tabloid or broadsheet “brand”.

Unfounded speculation that a senior politician or captain of industry plans to defect? Unthinkable. Mischievous rumours that a star player or manager will be grazing pastures new next season? Harmless fun.

Broadsheets (yes, let’s abuse that term before it becomes obsolete) will indulge less in the fiction than their diminutive rivals but often compensate with the use of contrived opinion and verbosity.

But there is another reason for the distinction between the sports desks and the proper journalists – the calibre of men (and few women) themselves.

Even on a quality title, the hack foolish enough to converse too frequently on anything more philosophical than Andy Murray’s mood swings will be branded a prima donna or a "poof" before too long. And that too often attracts those whose values and rationale are informed by the loudest voices on the football terraces.

Generally required to do nothing more than “slag the other side” to disguise their partisanship, hacks spend much of their day idly winding up sports fans and gleefully reading the irate letters in response. However, these happy few who rarely have the responsibility of dealing with sensitive matters occasionally allow malicious chuckles to drown out the quiet voices of reason, decency and common sense.

This week, that charge is rightly levelled at the Daily Record. For the benefit of the innocents – who won’t be thankful for the background information – an appalling campaign has in recent times been directed at the former Celtic and Scotland manager Jock Stein. Primarily heard from Rangers fans, though infamously also christening Linlithgow Rose’s entry to the Scottish Cup, the chants of “Big Jock Knew” have been used to attempt to implicate Jock Stein in the Celtic Boys Club abuse scandal of decades ago. That the jibe is as relevant, tasteful and accurate as holding Winston Churchill accountable for the Holocaust is neither here nor there. It has been happening, almost all of Scottish football knows it, and very few writers have bothered to mention it.

But the Daily Record managed to go beyond dereliction of duty this week, attaching a “Big Jock Crew” kicker to a photo in the paper this week while feigning ignorance of its error. Subsequently confronted with outrage, Sports Editor Jim Traynor has acknowledged the mistake and the paper issued a printed apology while at the same time certain figures tried to deflect from the seriousness of the issue with implausible excuses issued through “contacts”.

This time, though, they have clearly gone too far and riled Celtic into action on this “poisonous, repugnant, despicable and cowardly campaign”. The club statement went on: “With regard to the newspaper involved, the club has discussed this issue with their senior management, who have assured us that they are regretful as to what has happened and that they will be taking action.”

And the management assurances are likely to be credible. At a time when every print title is under intense pressure with regard to circulation and advertising, major potential economic partners have unprecedented leverage against the media.

Traynor has borne the brunt of the fans’ criticism having done what he had to do in taking responsibility for the mistake while defending his desk. There are worse crimes than that.

But he is no fool – he knows that his reputation is tarnished by such output from unnamed staff (or non-regular casuals as one report claimed). As a writer formerly of some standing and a very smart individual, Traynor is known to sometimes despair of the quality of professionals entering sports journalism. When such cheap shots as these “three little words” appear, however, we must all wonder at the motivations of person responsible.