Hocus Pocus Rohl: The Champions League Delusion Show at Ibrox

Sevco talk about being a Champions League club one minute… and a title-winning force the next.

There’s a strange tone creeping out of Ibrox at the moment, and I can’t decide if it’s optimism, denial, or just comfort food for people who don’t want to look at the table too closely.

Because when you actually listen to Danny Rohl’s camp, you’re left wondering what version of reality they’re operating in.

One week it’s “we’re still in the title race.”
Next week it’s “we’re building for Champions League football.”

And somewhere in the middle of all that, you’re expected to believe they’re a serious football operation.

Are they champions? Are they challengers? Are they rebuilding? Or are they just saying whichever word sounds best that day?

Champions one week, qualifiers the next?

There’s a strange contradiction running through all of this.

They can drop points, fall behind in the league, and still speak as if Champions League football is not just realistic but expected.

But how does that logic work?

You can’t spend a season slipping in domestic pressure games and simultaneously talk like you’re ready to compete with Europe’s elite.

Or maybe you can… if you ignore what’s happening in front of you.

And that’s the bit that feels most familiar now from their camp.

Not failure—but refusal to fully acknowledge it and to blame anything but themselves for their sad little existence.

Hocus pocus football

Rohl’s messaging is starting to sound less like management and more like spellwork.

Believe harder. Focus better. Next game matters most. Season still alive. Momentum still possible.

At what point does it become less about tactics… and more about persuasion?

Because from the outside, it looks like a team being told to manifest confidence rather than earn it.

They talk about “Rangers Men”, as if a tattoo of a Union Jack will make you win the title.

The Champions League argument

Then there’s Kris Boyd, leaning on the familiar argument:

Finish second, get into Champions League qualifiers, and “see what happens from there.”

And this is where the logic starts to stretch.

Because Champions League football is being treated like a safety net, not a reward.

As if it exists to rescue the season rather than reflect success within it.

But let’s be honest here—this isn’t about the “massive prize money” anymore.

Not really.

This is about a club that has already spent heavily—around £40 million on players—and still finds itself staring at a season where third place is the most likely scenario.

You call it what it is: failure to meet basic expectations.

“Just win all three games” — as if it were that simple

Barry Ferguson summed it up neatly enough.

Go out, win all three remaining fixtures, start at Celtic Park, pick up six points after that, and everything will be fine.

Simple.

Clean.

Almost comforting.

But is it?

If it were that straightforward, they’d have done it already.

What makes all of this even more interesting is how quickly Barry Ferguson and Kris Boyd have latched onto Danny Rohl as the solution to everything.

There’s a familiar tone creeping in already—the “he just needs time”, the “he’ll sort it”

The quiet framing of him as some kind of modern-day messiah who will fix structural problems eventually.

But this is Sevco we’re talking about.

A club where every new appointment seems to arrive with a halo already pre-placed before a ball is kicked.

And you can already feel the narrative building: Rohl isn’t just a manager; he’s the answer.

But what happens when the answers don’t come quickly enough?

So where do Rohl’s and Sevco’s delusion end?

Sunday becomes another test, of course. Another chance to show how they’re the best,

Another “must-win”. Another “belief game”. Another chance to reset the narrative and get “into us”

But at some point, you have to ask whether the manager is the problem or the narrative.

If they had any class they’d give us a guard of honour as we’re in the Champions League Place but alas Thursday is a cheap night out…