LISTENING to the upsetting interview with the widow of Kevin McDaid, who was murdered by a sectarian gang in County Londonderry on Sunday, I was struck once again by the utter imbecility of the religious divide in Northern Ireland and here in the west of Scotland.

Of course, for “religion” read “football”. 

It’s a well known fact, acknowledged by the police and social services, that in households throughout the country, women become the victims of beatings whenever their husband’s team loses a big match, and such was undoubtedly the case on Sunday when Rangers beat Celtic to the title. How incredibly pathetic is that sentence? That grown “men” would get so upset about the result of a game of football that they would commit assault on the person they married?

It’s assumed that Mr McDaid was killed by a crowd of Rangers supporters who knew he was a Catholic and therefore a legitimate target for their moronic violence.

How incredibly pathetic is it that “adults” would be even slightly impolite towards someone who did not share their particular brand of Christianity, let alone want to be violent towards them?

I was raised in a protestant Church of Scotland household, but my parents never approved of the regular Orange parades that progressed through my hometown every summer. They would have disapproved of any anti-Catholic bigotry exhibited by any of their children. Probably as a result of my parents’ tolerance and good sense, I’ve just never “got” the whole sectarian thing, despite having lived in Glasgow these past 23 years, and in the shadow of Hampden Park for most of that time. I probably have a clearer idea about the theological differences between Catholic and Protestant than most of the thugs who “celebrate” their faith by hating the adherents of a different one. And believe me, those differences really aren’t worth falling out over.

But tribalism — whether based on football, religion or both — will probably always be with us. And tragedies like that which has befallen the McDaid family will continue to occur. And whenever they do, all I can do is shed a tear for the bereaved and ask again how the hell a religious war three hundred years ago can still have any resonance or meaning to anyone today.