Steve Clarke owes Scotland only one thing and if he can't guarantee it then he should walk away

Daily Record

4 hours ago

It doesn't mention it in the manual and they don't hand it out with the coaching badges either.
But, somewhere along the line, in order to even want to be a manager these days, it seems as if nursing masochistic tendencies is almost a prerequisite.
Really, why else would they put themselves through it?
Why would Russell Martin, for example, have stalled for so long on taking an easy life at Leicester City in order to throw himself into the lion's den at Ibrox?
Martin hasn't even clocked into Auchenhowie for his first day in the office but he is well aware already there are Rangers supporters out there who would prefer that he didn't bother.
The same goes for Steven Pressley at Dundee even though he's currently celebrating his 25th wedding anniversary in Vietnam and has still to set foot back in the city he once called home. He's about to discover a far more arduous marriage awaits.
Barry Ferguson, meanwhile, is relaxing with the family in the Greek sunshine but probably still simmering a little inside at the manner with which he was waved off to the airport by Kevin Thelwell and Gretar Steinsson.
Ange Postecoglu will be hitting a beach too with a big fat redundo cheque in the back pocket of his togs, after doing the impossible and winning a trophy for Spurs and getting sacked off by them for his trouble.
And then there's the curious case of Steve Clarke - the man who ushered Scotland back in from the wilderness years - but who now stands accused of botching the job with the most talented group of players the country has assembled in decades.
It all feels a little bit like touch and go right now for Clarke ahead of the friendly in Liechtenstein - on the back of a pride crushing defeat at home to Iceland on Friday night.
Any more missteps at the Rheinpark Stadium and he'd be better off hiding out in Vaduz for the summer rather than returning to Glasgow Airport on Scotland's team charter, where only misery and malevolence will be waiting for him at arrivals.
It won't happen, of course. No matter what side Clarke cobbles together - and even if the unfortunate Cieran Slicker remains in goal - Scotland will still have enough about them to get out of town with a win against the Lilliputians of the European game. And it will mean absolutely nothing in any case.
Because there are Scotland fans out there who have decided that Clarke's time ought to be up. That he's taken this team just as far as he can.
Perhaps, that some of the star performers in his team have outgrown him along the way. And, in all honesty, all of the above may well be correct.
But here's the thing about Clarke. After leading Scotland to successive European Championships he owes us almost nothing at all. Nothing, that is, apart from complete and utter honesty.
If deep down he truly believes he's still the man for the job and that these players of his are receptive to his messaging and instructions, then he has more than earned the right to have a crack at taking them to the next World Cup before bowing out from the position.
If, however, he is experiencing any self doubt or feeling as if he's got little more to give, then he should walk away from it with his held high and with a nation's gratitude for the tournaments that he has delivered.
It really is as simple as that where Clarke and Scotland are concerned. If he wants to continue in the job one last campaign then he should be allowed to do exactly that. But he has to be certain. And he must be honest to himself.
Because the squad he has nurtured and brought to this point cannot be hindered or hamstrung by the man in charge nor can it have its growth stunted at this moment in time, when it feels as if it should be capable of trading blows with the giants.
If Clarke is feeling jaded or fatigued by it all, after six years in charge, then he should step aside immediately and let someone else have a go while the likes of Kieran Tierney, Andy Robertson, Scott McTominay, Billy Gilmour, Lewis Ferguson and John McGinn are operating at the peak of their powers.
These players deserve to be paraded on the biggest stage of all and it's not inconceivable that the likes of Postecoglou or even former Rangers interim Ferguson might connect with them and accelerate their collective development.
But that's all down to how Clarke sees things. And rightly so. He gets to decide his own fate where this gig is concerned.
Sadly, the same cannot be said for new Rangers boss Martin who is already a hostage to fortune in terms of his job security, even though he's not even started working with his players on the training ground yet.
Martin is an articulate, highly intelligent and very likeable young manager. That he has such an ardent and clear view on how he wants the game to be played is another admirable trait.
If it works, then he could have the kind of transformational impact on Rangers that Postecoglou had across the city at Parkhead.
Let's not forget, a large section of Celtic's supporters were also completely underwhelmed by the big Aussie's appointment when he was rushed into the position after Eddie Howe had taken cold feet at the eleventh hour.
But that's where the similarities end. Postecoglou had a track record of trophies and triumphs behind him before he arrived in Glasgow.
Martin has the wreckage of a relegation season with Southampton still smouldering in his rear view mirror.
All of which means the new man will start next season under the cosh with a support which already suspects the worst of him.
Unlike Clarke and Scotland, Martin has deposited nothing whatsoever in the bank of goodwill so - in order to build up some early credit - he will have to be absolutely immaculate in the manner with which he goes about his work over the first few weeks and months of the season.
And, given the woeful state of the squad he is inheriting, the chances of that happening seem remote at the very best.
Martin must truly believe in himself, in his philosophy and in his staff, or else he wouldn't have touched this task with a bargepole.
And that courage in his convictions is to be respected, especially considering the offer he had to slip back down into the quiet life of England's Championship at the King Power.
Instead, he has chosen to step into a furnace.
All of which just adds weight to the theory that you don't have to be a masochist to be a football manager. But it certainly seems to help.