Rangers, Derek McInnes and the "Relevance" Test Against Celtic: When 50,000 at Ibrox Aren't Sure What They Believe

Four straight wins. Four. And in the most recent one, Bojan Miovski — on as a substitute — did not score the decisive goal until stoppage time in a 1-0 win over St Mirren. From the Ibrox stands that day, the roar did not come in full. Silence slipped in between the joy. Years ago, sitting in a small studio listening to a match through a tinny radio, I learned to listen for that kind of silence. A team can win while the crowd still refuses to believe. Derek McInnes, Rangers' new manager, understands that better than anyone in the press room.

He did not open with tactics. He opened with the crowd.

"We need to bring the crowd with us," McInnes said, ahead of the Scottish League Cup quarter-final against Celtic — the Old Firm derby taking place on Sunday at Ibrox, where all 50,000 seats will belong to Rangers supporters. He did not use the word "victory." He used the word "relevant."

A Rangers manager saying his club needs to become "relevant again" is a confession, not a slogan.

The Old Firm derby has never been just a football match. It is a collision between two halves of Scottish football, a war with a history longer than the age of most players involved. But in recent years the balance has tipped firmly one way. Celtic is the club that has won the most trophies in the recent period — McInnes himself concedes this, calling them the reigning champions, the club that has "lifted more trophies than any other club." Rangers, once their equal, now stand as the challenger trying to reclaim its place.

This is the backdrop to the League Cup quarter-final. A knockout tie, where there are no points to fall back on, only a place in the next round or a season cut short. McInnes has only just taken the job. He has four consecutive wins in hand, but the common denominator across those four games is what makes you think: narrow wins, late goals, missed chances. The results are running ahead of the process.

And the most striking detail about this derby: there will be no away fans. The authorities ordered that no tickets be allocated to Celtic supporters after a dispute between the two clubs over allocation percentages. This is an administrative decision, not a federation sanction, but the consequence is clear: Ibrox will be a sealed fortress, a space with only one colour, one voice.

A stadium half-emptied is not silence; it is applause with only one side to receive it. And applause with only one side — in a derby — can be a weapon or a burden. McInnes chooses to call it a weapon. He speaks of 50,000 people as something that can make Celtic "difficult to stop," an invisible pressure no opponent can fully prepare for.

It is a revealing way to read a match. It does not talk about formations, pressing, or xG. It talks about an emotional resource converted into a competitive advantage. And in a knockout derby, when the gap in quality tilts toward Celtic, redefining home advantage as a tactical variable is a reasonable move. But it is also a risky one.

Here, what McInnes does not say matters more than what he says. He admits Rangers have been through "frustration over a period of time." He says the team needs to "show something different." He says the responsibility lies with the players. This is not the language of a man who believes the stands will support by default. It is the language of a man who knows the stands are waiting for a reason to vote confidence.

And that is the crux. Four wins are a platform. But a platform does not create belief. Belief comes from how a team plays, not from its points tally. Rangers fans did not miss a single moment of the St Mirren win. They saw a team lacking sharpness, saw chances dissolve, saw a match that could end with three points but would not end with reassurance. That is the kind of anxiety that does not come from results, but from process. Results can soothe someone reading a league table. They cannot soothe someone who sits in the stands for 90 minutes every week.

Rangers' problem right now is not winning. It is credibility — something four narrow wins cannot buy.

We do not remember the scoreline; we remember how the sweat fell on the grass. A supporter's memory is made of moments, not numbers on a scoreboard. And the memory of the Ibrox stands over recent years is the memory of a club that came close but did not touch, of managerial changes, of teams that changed tactical colours without changing the emotion. That is why McInnes faces something harder than any opponent: the scepticism of his own home crowd.

Tactically, the only clear signal from McInnes is a philosophical line: no team can dominate Celtic for 90 minutes. Matches, he says, break into "spells." This is the thinking of a manager who treats a game as an exercise in rhythm management, not a race for possession. In other words, Rangers will not try to own the ball from start to finish. Rangers will try to survive the spells when Celtic dominate, then counter in the ones that remain. It is a pragmatic, sensible strategy — and a very familiar one for the underdog in a derby.

But a pragmatic strategy requires one condition: sharpness in converting chances. And that is precisely Rangers' biggest weakness this season. McInnes has been forced to admit his team failed to capitalise on good play and opportunities against St Mirren, and before that against Motherwell. Two matches, the same problem twice. It is no longer a coincidence. It is a pattern.

If Rangers struggle to score against weaker sides, then scoring against Celtic — a team with a seasoned defence and far more big-match experience — will be many times harder. This is why McInnes stresses a good start. An early goal does not just change the scoreline. It changes the state of 50,000 people in the stands.

A goal in the tenth minute is not a goal; it is a political statement between the pitch and the stands.

And this is where the true tension of this match lies. If Rangers score first, the crowd becomes an ally, and 50,000 people become a pressure that cannot be measured. But if Celtic score first, that same crowd becomes something else — a courtroom. McInnes has already prepared for that scenario by telling supporters not to get on the players' backs. That is the language of a man who understands that Ibrox is not always an ally. Sometimes it is the harshest judge in the room.

Amid the derby headlines, there is another story, less noticed but no less important. John Souttar, a 29-year-old centre-back, is on his way out of Rangers to join Aris Thessaloniki in the Greek Super League. He was left out of pre-season and has not featured under McInnes. The club regards him as surplus to requirements. He remains under contract until 2027, with a club option to extend by a further 12 months, but that has not stopped him being pushed out of the plans.

The timing of this deal is delicate. The Greek transfer window closes on Tuesday. McInnes says the move "is not at that stage yet" and that "something might happen over the next two or three days." He also says he spoke to Souttar that morning. This is not a deal with a big financial value. It is a clearance deal. It frees wages, frees a squad place, frees space for a rebuild McInnes is beginning.

A transfer window does not buy players; it buys dreams that have been bent out of shape. Here, the bent dream does not belong to Souttar. It belongs to Rangers — a club selling players it once signed to long contracts to protect their value. The fact that a 29-year-old centre-back moves from the Scottish Premiership to the Greek Super League reveals Rangers' standing in the surplus-player market: they are sellers, selling into mid-tier leagues, usually without the competition that pushes prices up.

McInnes says one or two clubs are interested, one perhaps further down the line. That is the language of a negotiation in progress but not concluded. And with the market open for only a few more days, the real risk is that the deal may not complete in time. If that happens, Rangers will keep paying wages to a defender who is not in the plans, while the club needs every penny to rebuild.

But step back a little, and the Souttar story is a larger signal about the state of the club. Rangers are in the middle of a transition. They are changing manager, changing players, changing expectations. McInnes has been tasked with restoring the club to a position it once held. But in Scottish football today, that position is occupied by a Celtic that is more solid in every department.

This is the structure of Scottish football: a two-horse race, but with one horse running ahead. Celtic are the trophy hegemon. Rangers are the challenger clawing back every metre. The League Cup is Rangers' best chance to win silverware before Celtic express their full strength over a long season. And that is exactly why this quarter-final is as decisive for McInnes as any final.

The counterintuitive point here is this: Rangers' biggest obstacle in this match is not Celtic. Celtic are a strong opponent, but a predictable one. What cannot be predicted is the Ibrox crowd. And McInnes, by saying his club needs to become "relevant again," has placed his own bet: if Rangers lose, that "relevance" will be questioned, and the accumulated scepticism will find a new vessel.

There is a paradox in how McInnes speaks about the crowd. He wants 50,000 people to become allies, yet at the same time he builds a narrative that allows the crowd to become a variable in the event of failure. When you say a team needs the crowd to make the difference, you place the crowd in a position of shared responsibility. And when the crowd is in that position, it is also in a position to be blamed. It is a thin line, and McInnes knows it.

But perhaps we should read McInnes on the crowd in another, more generous direction. In a match where away fans are banned, Ibrox becomes a sealed world — no counterweight, no other voice, only a community facing a shared test. McInnes may be trying to turn that enclosure into collective strength. He is trying to tell the stands that they are not spectators, but part of the team.

It is a subtle act of emotional leadership. And a dangerous one. Because when you invite the crowd onto the pitch, you also invite them off it when things go wrong.

In terms of dressing-room management, McInnes is operating a centralised power model. He speaks openly about the Souttar deal, openly confirms the player spoke to him, openly places responsibility on other players. This is the style of a manager who wants control of every piece, not just the tactical ones. It shows he wants to rebuild not only the playing style but the culture of the club.

And that is what Rangers need more than a win. A team can win a derby through luck. But a club cannot rebuild its standing through luck. It needs a culture, a belief, and a crowd that no longer breathes in self-defence. Those three things do not arrive in one Sunday afternoon. But one Sunday afternoon can bring them closer, or push them further away.

McInnes has chosen to speak about this match not as a fixture, but as a turning point in identity. He says Rangers need to be "relevant" again. He says the team needs the crowd behind it. He says no one can dominate Celtic for 90 minutes. Three lines, side by side, form a clear picture: a manager who knows his team is not stronger, but believes it can be smarter, more committed, and carried by 50,000 voices.

Will that be enough? Chelsea will not answer this question. Celtic will. And in a match where away fans are not permitted, the answer will be heard by only one side of the ground.

Derbies always share one thing: they are remembered for moments, not analyses. Rangers fans will not remember what McInnes said in the press room. They will remember a passage of play at some minute, a roar, or a silence. And what they remember most may be how they felt the match from the stands — with belief, or with a scepticism still unresolved.

Tactics are poetry; but goals are the sigh of the universe. A goal in the tenth minute can make Ibrox erupt. A goal conceded in the tenth minute can make Ibrox fall silent. And in both scenarios, McInnes will not be able to control what happens next — because once the crowd has spoken, no manager can rewrite the story of that afternoon.

So the final question is not whether Rangers can beat Celtic. The question is: if they win, will the 50,000 at Ibrox truly believe — or will they only rejoice in silence, waiting for the next disappointment? That is a question McInnes cannot answer with one match. He can only begin to answer it with a run of matches long enough to become a memory.