Ian Ferguson:

Ian has always struck me as a man who obviously knows the score even when he's not contributed a goal to it. I guess you'd have to if you hung around all the way through the NIAR years. He says in interviews that the local Celtic fans were always sure to remind everyone of their NIAR years. Very fitting then that he was a part of the team that collected all nine consecutive League Championship medals. Ian seems the obvious fan favourite since he has been able to do the one thing we all envy and only dream of; play for Rangers. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has woken up from a nights sleep after having scored the clincher in the league winner against Celtic at Ibrox. Unfortunately, I never get a full game since I'm usually sent off in the 75^th after a vicious tackle on Mahe. Really vicious. His leg shouldn't be bending that way, quite frankly. But I digress;

I think since Ian was and is a fan, he understands what it means for a fan to meet one of their idols. There's no poising or positioning for him. Ian will shake your hand, introduce himself and ask you how your flight was.

John Greig:

Arguably, the Ledge is the best player I've never seen play. His ongoing work with Rangers and his dedication to the club have given him the deserved coveted title of the Greatest Ranger. But here again, I've never seen him play. I've only ever seen the old photos of him running onto the pitch at Ibrox, face framed by the bushy mid-1960s haircut and sideburn combo. That or the shot of him sitting in the tub holding one of the biggest double-handled silver teacups I've ever seen. But the Ledge doesn't need video replay. The stories are well known. His accomplishments are renowned. His dedication to the club is much celebrated. You don't need to have seen him play to appreciate the looks on people's faces as they see John enter the room. He brought home silver in 1972. Fans much older than me nod in admiration. Standing around him and listening to the recollections of his great moments by fellow Bears, it is so bleeding obvious that this man is it. I ask him for a picture and he graciously accepts. I tug on my 1972 Cup Winner's Cup jersey and tell him I figured he'd recognize this one.

"Oh, aye".

As I thank him and leave, I hear the "broken foot "story rehashed by a fan. "So what?", I think. "Mahe plays every game with a broken face and no one says a thing about it."

1:something am: Could be 2:00am, I can't really remember. End up chatting with an awful lot of the Orange County RSC folks. Gary, the WebMaster of The East Enclosure, like us, is there until the bitter end. I knew I liked his page for a reason.

10:38am: The second breakfast in a row at the Denny's beside the hotel. It has slot machines, pancakes and grits. Nuff 'said.

1:12pm: AGM has started after a fairly brisk trade in T-shirts. The AGM becomes decidedly very AGMey >yawn<

2:55pm: The floor is opened up to the guest panel: Durie, Fergie, Ledge, Sandy Jardine, Mint Jr. all fielded questions from the floor. The bulk of the questions were the usual complimentary stuff. Sammy Cox showed up and threw in his two cents' worth. Earlier, I had spoken to Sammy and said I appreciate all he's done for the club but I'm afraid I'm too young to have ever have seen him play. He said to me "You got off lucky..."

4:15pm: Lying around the pool of the Hilton after the AGM with SA. Both of us have each finished a drink that comes in a glass that is as tall as my waist. Suddenly don't feel like moving much.

6:12pm: Having got dressed for the formal banquet, we stroll to the Hilton through the casino. I haven't got my glasses on, but I can't help but notice the red-white-and-blue ties on the two gents approaching us. I take them to be fellow Bears and wave. Upon shaking their hands I realize that I recognize them from last night's reception. Oh, yeah. It's Gord and Fergie. Perhaps contact lenses are the answer. Or I should stop drinking daiquiris that could drop rhinos at 4:30 in the afternoon. Aaaahhh, I'll call my optometrist.

9:23pm: The meal is completed. Speeches follow. Camera flashes punctuate the darkness of the hall as everyone dressed in their Sunday best ask for more Ranger photos. SA, EP and I get an "official" photo. Official I guess because Gord and Me are the only ones wearing pants.

9:48pm: Now is the time when we dance.

11:47pm: I never thought I'd say this but I'm really sick of "Simply the Best".

5:something am: Get home from the banquet after meeting some lovely fellow Bears from Atlanta. Reminds me of the last time I was in Atlanta, which was Atlanta '96. No sleep for a month. Atlantans must not need much sleep. Must be something in the grits.

4:07pm: Grab the shuttle from the hotel to the airport. As we drive away from the strip, we see that Vegas is a lot like those old Hollywood movie sets where everything from the street side looks real, and then you go behind to see the storefront pictures being held up by two-by-fours. Sort of like the Aberdeen defense.

5:59pm: Some guy in front of me keeps singing 'Simply the Best';. I accidentally drop my carry-on on his foot and all fourteen "Follow, Follow" clocks go off at once. Find my seat and start to go over the weekend in my head all again. SA, EP and I spent a well deserved micro-vacation doing what should have been done given the season we had. The team worked excruciatingly hard to accomplish all they did and if we couldn't revel this year, what year could we? Had a complete blast, but SA and I have no desire to return to work the next day.

6:13am: Call in sick to work. Blame a bad pancake at Denny's.