Alfie, Mi Amor

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By Raoul Duke

A fantastic ability to win possession, back to goal; simultaneously controlling the ball and bouncing an opponent off that glorious arse, swivelling, then pinging a precise cross-field pass to trigger an attack and elicit a roar of appreciation from the Bears in the stands.

Those petulant, flailing limbs that occasionally spring to life; fast-twitch fibers firing, seemingly of their own accord, during otherwise innocuous jostles with opposition defenders.

Outrageous xenophobic screeds from hackneyed sports journalists which – more than poorly-translated bed sheets or the numerous instances of despicable racial abuse – clearly illustrate the sickening hatred reserved for Rangers’ number twenty by the parochial and embittered supporters of Scotland’s lesser football clubs.

A goal scoring record unmatched in Rangers’ storied European history and a natural girlish charm that’s only trumped by that of his baby daughter.

This is the package. This is the man; whole, and not without fault.

So I’ve been a little disheartened, since the draw at Easter Road, to hear some fans who’ve suggested they’re “done” with Morelos; that they’d be happy for us to sell him in this window and cash-in during the last twelve months of his current contract.

It strikes me that the fine recent performances from Antonio Colak, who looks like he might be the first centre forward to provide genuine competition to Morelos since the Colombian’s arrival at Ibrox in 2017, may have led to some supporters losing sight of what Alfredo Morelos is capable of and what he brings to the team when he’s on his game.

Indeed, we’ve been over-reliant on Morelos for far too long. His aptitude to bully and harass entire back lines, all over the continent, has surely been a vital component of our European success over the past four years. Given the step up to the Champions League, it would be strange to think that we wouldn’t miss the undoubted qualities he brings to matches where a lone-striker role, against world-class opposition, relies so heavily on effective hold-up play and unabashed physicality.

Morelos is 26 years old and, from this perspective at least, must surely be considered to be in the prime of his career. For the first time in his Rangers’ spell, he now has a manager who speaks his native tongue, a shot at the Champions League, and a fellow-striker who can push him all the way in competition for a starting spot.

This is exactly what we needed.

I’ve a feeling that an Alfredo Morelos who’s fuelled by intra-squad competition – for the first time ever in his Rangers’ career – is going to be an absolute beast.

Gio has laid down the gauntlet, in a very public manner, and it’s only now that we’ll truly see what Morelos is capable of.

If Alfie sticks in, as I’m in no doubt he will, then we’ll have two incredibly good options up front and the sort of goal-scoring depth that can win titles and stoke the flames of Champions League nights at Ibrox.

Oor Alfie will, yet again, relish the opportunity to prove his detractors wrong.

Now sign that contract, Buff…

¿Mi tierra?
Mi tierra eres tú.

¿Mi gente?
Mi gente eres tú.

El destierro y la muerte
para mi están adonde
no estés tú.

¿Y mi vida?
Dime, mi vida,
¿qué es, si no eres tú?

  • Contigo by Luis Kerned

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