Rangers FC and The Self-Importance of Being Sandy

‘It’s Time For Litigation’

On 12 March, at a home game at Ibrox, Craig Houston approached Rangers director Sandy Easdale. Houston, a spokesman for the fans’ group Sons of Struth, was not there to discuss football but to seek an explanation for an escalating series of legal threats. An internal communication from Easdale’s lawyers, Levy and McRae, had been direct: “It’s time for litigation.” The firm was instructed to “prepare summons for the Court of Session” if criticism of their client continued. For Houston, this was the latest step in a bizarre conflict that began with a less-than-flattering nickname and a comment from a user called “Scot Nosurrender Billyboy”.

The dispute pits a powerful club director against a prominent fan representative. Easdale, co-owner of McGill’s bus company and an executive director of The Rangers Football Club Ltd, has long been a controversial figure. His critics often point to a 1997 conviction for VAT fraud, which, though now spent under the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act, has fuelled descriptions of him as a “crook”. It was this specific term, used on the Sons of Struth Facebook page, that prompted the first legal letter from Levy and McRae. The solicitors complained that the word “implies criminality in broad, unqualified terms” and noted, with some clumsiness, that “no supporting evidence whatsoever is tendered in support.”

Houston duly warned followers of the Facebook page to cease using the term. Yet the truce was short-lived. A new post appeared, titled “Sandy, Sandy, where’s the dough?”, questioning a recent £1.5 million loan to the club from Easdale and shareholder Laxey Partners. The author wondered why investors Easdale had claimed to have lined up before the December AGM were not providing the funds. The post then referred to the £500,000 Easdale had personally contributed, questioning whether it came from his “own debatable sources.”

This phrase triggered a fresh round of legal correspondence. Houston was forced to issue a public apology, clarifying the comment was a reference to an STV interview in which Easdale had declined to explain how his personal wealth squared with the declared profits of his bus company. Houston stated, “we are confident it comes from no dubious or criminal source,” a sentiment that felt more like a lawyer’s carefully crafted sentence than a fan’s genuine belief.

Hair Today, Court Tomorrow

The situation descended further into farce. According to Houston, when he confronted Easdale at Ibrox, the director’s complaints were surprisingly personal. “He stated that ‘I took the piss’ and even slagged his hair on our Facebook page,” Houston recounted. Easdale allegedly admitted that the libellous comments were made by others, but his problem was that even Houston’s public apologies “took the piss out of him.”

The reference to his hair provided ample material for Easdale’s online critics. It is difficult to imagine the Court of Session taking seriously a complaint rooted in playground-level grievances. Easdale told the Daily Record’s Keith Jackson that he did not mind professional criticism but that “taking it to a personal level has to stop.” He confirmed his lawyers had asked Houston to sign a document promising not to do it again, threatening the Court of Session if he refused. “I don’t want to take any fan to court but… I’m not having it anymore,” he said.

Whose Data Is It Anyway?

Beyond the pettiness, more serious issues have emerged. Houston has alleged that the legal documents were consistently sent to his parents’ address, which was the contact information held for him by the club itself. This raises significant data protection concerns about how a director’s private legal firm gained access to information from the club’s database. Rangers’ Chief Executive, Graham Wallace, told Houston an internal investigation found “no evidence that the address was leaked from Ibrox,” a conclusion that seems improbable given the circumstances. Easdale’s lawyers had also threatened to send court officials to that address to obtain Houston’s current one.

The club’s apparent willingness to facilitate its director’s personal legal battles is troubling. With Rangers facing grave financial uncertainty, many supporters will wonder why Easdale is focused on silencing online critics instead of securing the club’s future. The entire episode has shone a light on the board’s priorities, not to mention its director’s sensitivity. The nickname “the Kraysdales” has often been used by critics of Sandy and his brother James, though there is no suggestion it is appropriate. If Easdale’s legal strategy is designed to have a chilling effect on such commentary, it appears to have backfired spectacularly.

Houston, for his part, remains defiant, telling the Record, “this board continues to turn on its own.” As legal letters fly and data privacy questions hang in the air, one wonders what Bill Struth, the pioneering manager for whom the Sons of Struth are named, would have made of it all.