Unkind rubs of the green

fixture.

Things have not been going well for the men in green, used as they are

to winning the league so many times in a row. The rivals, by comparison,

are second in the league, still very much in contention.

We are talking here not about Celtic FC, but about Hawick Rugby

Football Club. The men in those elegant dark green shirts are joint

bottom of the McEwan's First Division with four points from seven games.

The men in the dark green shirts are used to doing rather better, having

won 10 out of the last 16 championships.

The last time they had such a bad patch was in the 1950s.

In this New Year's Day friendly match against Heriot's FP, only pride

is at stake. Pride is salvaged in a 45-17 rout of Heriot's, although

every Hawick supporter would gladly trade all the points for a victory

in the league.

The Hawick-Heriot's rivalry has been going on since just after the

First World War. In the old days, half the town would turn out for the

match, usually straight from a punishing schedule of first-footing.

Occasionally, some of the players had been on the same round of parties.

One year the match had been called off because of frost. Cecil Frowd,

a kenspeckle player, made the most of the chance to indulge in Hogmanay

pursuits.

Then the game was put back on again. Cecil did his duty; turned up;

changed into the famous green strip; ran out of the pavilion with his

team-mates; and crashed into a goal-post.

Walter Scott played his first New Year game for Hawick 50 years ago

and is still involved on the club committee. A bluff farmer who recalls

having to load 15 tons of sacks of potatoes on to a lorry before heading

off to play rugby, he is entitled to think that some present-day players

are on the soft side.

A good Borders rugby player, according to Walter Scott, is aggressive

and bloody-minded. There are too many of ''those thinking buggers'' in

the game today. The trouble is that the new generations of young

Borderers just don't have the required obsession with rugby. Some of

them, heaven forbid, even go shopping on a Saturday afternoon.

There are other theories for the decline in Hawick's fortunes. They've

never been the same since they stopped wearing the old jerseys made out

of jaggy material.

Too many modern players go down and don't get up until they've had

treatment. In the old days the threat of the imminent arrival of the

trainer with a bucket of cold water would have them up and back in the

game in no time.

And, as oftens happens in a sporting crisis, the very structure of the

game in Hawick is being questioned. Hawick RFC is unique in that it has

no second team. (In fact, if they had to apply today to join the SRU,

they would be refused because they do not have a second team.)

Instead, the town of Hawick has four autonomous junior clubs -- the

Trades, Harlequins, Hawick YM, and Linden -- which feed players into the

big team. This gives a bigger reserve pool but the downside is a lack of

rapport and contact between first team players and those on the fringe.

Another reason quoted for the blip in Hawick's progress in the rugby

world is that the schools are simply not producing the Colin Deanses and

Jim Renwicks of yesteryear. The local high school, although under the

rectorship of Jim Telfer, does not have a senior rugby XV.

The well of talent has dried up to such an extent that Hawick have

abandoned their tradition of only using local boys.

Geoff Allars, an Australian under-21 internationalist who recently

arrived in Hawick, has been pitched into the big team after only a few

games in the juniors. The genial Aussie who says he came to Hawick to

learn at the feet of the masters, now finds himself involved in a tough

school.

But, back in the clubhouse at Mansfield Park after the Heriot's game,

are the Robbie Dyes downhearted? No. (The Hawick fans, for some reason,

are called the Robbie Dyes. No-one could tell me why.)

One of the reasons, perhaps, they are not downhearted is that the

match sponsor, Scottish Life, is handing out tickets which entitle the

bearer to a free drink at the bar.

As it so happens, Malcolm Murray, the chief executive of Scottish Life

is a Hawick chap. Instead of the usual VIP lunch which accompanies

sponsored sporting events, Mr Murray decided it was better to give

everybody a drink. It must be a nice feeling standing your home town a

Ne'erday nip.

Mr Murray's good works for his home town know no bounds. He was even

to be found before the match serving behind the bar of the Hawick Trades

Club of which he a member.

The one aspect missing from the Sporting Diary's visit to Hawick was

the black humour which normally accompanies times of famine in sport. We

could tell you the story about the Hawick man who went into a shop in

the town and asked, in a loud voice, for a large red condom. Asked why

he was being so brazen, he replied that he was too embarrassed to ask

for a Hawick rugby jersey.

We won't tell you this story because it is not true. We will tell you

a Hawick joke which the teller swears is true, even though it has

nothing to do with rugby.

''What label does a Hawick girl have on her knickers?''

''I don't know. What label does a Hawick girl wear on her knickers?''

''Next.''

Into the attack in bid to net sales

* IT may be hard to believe but there is a more virulent plugger of

products than the Herald Diary. (What do you mean you've never heard of

Tom Shields' Diary, Mainstream #6.99?).

The plugger in question is Ally McCoist and the product is Super Ally,

the video. The Greatest Living Ranger loses few opportunities to give a

mention to the video of his life, times, and goals. In a recent game at

Ibrox, there he was in full flight, hurdling a defender, and crossing

the ball. His momentum carried him on, almost into the stand. Finding

himself in close contact with the fans, the GLR took the opportunity of

making a wee speech recommending his video as an ideal Christmas

present.

In the last game against Dundee United at Ibrox, matters became

slightly unpleasant, you may recall, after the infamous spitting

incident. The GLR approached a United player with a threatening ''Hey

you!'' Having caught his attention, McCoist smiled and asked: ''Have you

bought my video yet?''

* Super Ally (#9.99).

* Tom Shields' Diary (Mainstream, #6.99).

Courtesy of all blacks

* SURELY a sporting sponsorship first is the support given to today's

Kirkcaldy v. Perthshire rugby match by A.J. Ritchie, funeral directors.

Dead good of them, we say.

Target for ack-Accies

SPORTING nicknames can be awfully predictable. In American baseball,

for instance, players of greek descent are always called Nick. If your

granny came from Holland, you're called Dutch. If you're a hick from the

sticks, your nickname will be Rube.

In Scottish football, if your name is Harris you will be given the

soubriquet ''Bomber''. This is the case with Colin Harris of Hamilton

Accies.

Except that a breakaway group of fans, discontented with some of the

Bomber's displays, also refer to him as ''Taxifor''. As in ''Taxi for

Harris'' -- a popular cry from the stands when Bomber is having a quiet

spell.