RUSSELL MARTIN’S way of playing can be just mesmerising.
Or it can be a mess.
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For proof of the former, make up a flask and some sandwiches, type in “MK Dons 56-pass goal”, and watch what unfolds.
For proof of the latter?
Look no further than the last game he had as a manager.
Ten days before last Christmas, his Southampton side were 1-0 down at home to Spurs inside a minute, 5-0 down by half-time.
The owners had decided to sack him before the final peep of the referee’s whistle was floating off on the chill tea-time air.
This is the gamble Rangers are taking if they hire Martin to lead up their American Revolution.
Because while they would be bringing in a principled man, a strong man, a thoughtful and intelligent man, a kind man and a thoroughly decent man, whether he’s the RIGHT man depends on whether his way of playing works or it doesn’t.
That may sound ridiculously simplistic. But it’s how it is.
See, how Martin plays is intrinsically linked to who he is. It’s as much part of his DNA as the bristles of his beard.
Does it work, though? You decide.
In his first job, at Milton Keynes, only Man City and Barcelona in the whole of Europe had better possession stats.
They had more touches in the opposition box than any other side in England’s League One.
But they finished 13th.
In Martin’s second, at Swansea City, he finished 15th and tenth. At both clubs, he lost more games than he won.
At Southampton, he inherited a club in chaos, after going through three managers in being relegated from the Premier League in 2022-23, and turned things round to take them back up via the play-offs.
After beating Leeds United at Wembley, Martin vowed never to change his style, because he and his players loved it.
But six months later, he was gone because it turned out the opposition loved it even more.
Me? I don’t see from all of this what makes him the outstanding candidate to manage Rangers at a time when they need stability and certainty more than they need style.
Though the same could be said of all the names we were told were in the frame.
Steven Gerrard has done nothing since quitting first time round.
Davide Ancelotti has fantastic connections and is clearly a promising coach, but has no managerial experience.
Francesco Farioli’s just left Ajax with his head in a binbag after blowing the title.
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So if, for instance, Kevin Thelwell had come in and championed someone like Sean Dyche, you could have seen what the thinking was — steady the ship, sort the defence, put a bit of backbone through a team that’s made Spurs look steely.
Quite what the thinking is behind any of the leading candidates, though, beats me.
Still, one thing’s for sure, in Martin, they would be getting one fascinating character.
Brought up by an abusive dad who did time in prison, and gambled the family home away, he was plagued by ulcerative colitis which made him turn vegan.
He became a student of Buddhism, a disciple of ice baths and cryotherapy chambers, and has a work ethic that saw him clean toilets and do shifts in a Spar store while playing non-league.
After seeing two of his brothers fail to finish school and having to be fed by his Italian gran when the cupboard was bare at home, he started his own foundation to help kids going through the same dysfunctional upbringing he endured.
Without getting too shrink-y about it, maybe that’s why this 39-year-old student of meditation is so committed to his footballing mantra.
It’s pure. It’s inclusive. There’s a rhythm and a flow to it. There appears to be so much about Martin’s footballing outlook that was denied him throughout his childhood.
But purity and inclusivity and rhythm and flow will count for hee-haw if he can’t meld them into raw, bottom-line results, into a genuine challenge to Celtic and into silverware.
At MK Dons, Martin was experimenting. At Swansea, he was tweaking. At Southampton, he found a level of success that came down around his ears when the levels went up.
Now, it looks like Rangers. And when those famous front doors open and he climbs the marble staircase, he’ll very much be entering the real, ruthless world of coming first or coming nowhere.
Because while 56-pass goals are great for the showreel, what the fed-up Ibrox faithful really want is a 56th title…
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