Rangers players clash in dressing room after Tennent’s Sixes defeat to Celtic

Scottish football has a habit of turning even its lightest moments into something heated, and the return of the Tennent’s Sixes proved the point in dramatic fashion. Celtic beat Rangers 5-4 in the final of the revived indoor tournament, and within hours a video from inside the losing dressing room was circulating on social media, showing two Rangers players in a furious argument with each other. A competition designed as a nostalgic celebration of the game’s past had produced the sort of rivalry story that the Old Firm can generate in any setting, whether it is a packed stadium on a cold afternoon or a six-a-side arena filled with former heroes.

The tournament itself was the first of its kind for a very long time. The Tennent’s Sixes was an indoor six-a-side competition that had last been held in 1993, and the revival took place at Braehead Arena on 3 and 4 October 2026, with former players representing each of the 12 clubs in the Scottish Premiership. The format was a legends competition, with ex-players pulling on the current kits of the clubs they once served, and the whole event was shown live on Premier Sports. For supporters who remembered the original editions, which ran through the 1980s and early 1990s, it was a chance to revisit an era when the sixes were a fixture of the football calendar. For younger fans, it was a look at a tradition they had only heard about.

Rangers and Celtic were always going to be the focus. The two clubs had a long history in the competition, with Rangers lifting the trophy in the first edition in 1984 and Celtic winning their only title in 1992, and the modern revival gave both sides a reason to take it seriously even though no league points were on offer. Rangers named a squad built around some of the most recognisable figures of the last two decades, with Barry Ferguson as manager and Ian Durrant as his assistant, and a playing group that included goalkeeper Lee Robinson, Lee McCulloch, Kris Boyd, Charlie Adam, Andy Halliday, Lewis Macleod, Dean Shiels, Alan Gow and Kirk Broadfoot. Celtic answered with their own collection of familiar names, led by Tom Boyd as manager and featuring Charlie Mulgrew, Simon Donnelly, Joe Ledley, Aiden McGeady and Gary Hooper among others.

The group stage on Saturday gave Rangers every reason to feel confident. They had beaten Celtic 7-1 in that opening phase, a result that would normally be remembered as a statement of intent. A margin like that in any Old Firm meeting is a source of bragging rights for months, and the Rangers players could reasonably have believed that the hard part was done. Celtic, by contrast, had been embarrassed in front of a live audience, and their manager Tom Boyd admitted he was pretty angry with his players on Saturday night. That anger turned out to be useful, because it set the stage for a response that nobody in the Rangers camp seemed to have anticipated.

Sunday’s final was a much tighter affair. Celtic won it 5-4, a scoreline that tells its own story of an end-to-end contest in which defences were exposed and goalkeepers were put under constant pressure. Six-a-side football is built for that kind of chaos. The pitch is small, the ball is almost always in play, and a single lapse can turn into a goal within seconds. Games swing quickly, leads vanish, and the difference between triumph and disaster can be a deflection or a slip. Nine goals in a single match is entirely normal for the format, but that does not make the loss easier to take for the side that ends up on the wrong end of it.

For Celtic, the victory carried weight well beyond the trophy. After the heavy group-stage defeat, the turnaround in the final was exactly the sort of redemption story that football loves. Boyd said the triumph felt like winning the league, which is a telling comparison, even if it is partly tongue in cheek. It shows how much the bragging rights against Rangers matter at every level, from the main stage at Celtic Park and Ibrox down to a legends event in a Renfrewshire arena. For players who spent years in the rivalry, there is no such thing as a meaningless Old Firm result.

The celebrations were not entirely gracious, and that is where the first bit of friction appeared. Charlie Mulgrew admitted he got carried away after the final whistle, because he ignored handshake attempts from Rangers captain Andy Halliday so that he could salute the crowd, and he also exchanged words with Rangers manager Barry Ferguson. It was a small moment in the overall scheme of things, but it said a lot about the mood. A handshake that goes unreturned is the sort of detail that supporters latch onto, and it provided early material for the arguments that followed in the stands and online. Mulgrew himself conceded that he had been caught up in the emotion, which is probably the most honest explanation anyone could offer

Mulgrew has a certain history with this kind of thing, and the Celtic-supporting media was quick to remember it. One Celtic fan site opened its coverage by recalling his famous line from years ago about how upset Rangers supporters get after a defeat, delivered with a cheeky smile, and suggested the same pattern had repeated itself. It is the sort of framing that tells you how the story was received on one side of the divide. For Celtic fans, the day was a chance to enjoy the discomfort of their rivals. For Rangers fans, it was another reminder of how much the old foe enjoys getting under their skin.

While Celtic celebrated, the mood inside the Rangers dressing room was far from relaxed. A video that was leaked on social media appears to show Kirk Broadfoot heavily criticising goalkeeper Lee Robinson. The footage was filmed in the immediate aftermath of the defeat, when emotions were at their rawest, and it spread quickly because it captured something that supporters rarely get to see: former professionals arguing with the same intensity they once brought to matches that decided titles. A second report described how the two men were “going at it” in the dressing room, with Broadfoot and Robinson squaring up in a row that played out in front of their teammates and, unknowingly, a wider audience.

It is worth being clear about what that footage does and does not show. The reports describe a heated exchange, with Broadfoot directing criticism at his goalkeeper, but they do not suggest anything beyond a verbal row between two competitive men who had just lost a final. The tone of the coverage was largely amused, with one headline calling the footage hilarious, and that reading seems fair. This was a six-a-side legends tournament, not a Premiership title decider, and the people involved are long retired. Nobody’s season or career hung on the result, which makes the intensity of the argument both funnier and more revealing.

That last point may be the most interesting part of the whole episode. Broadfoot, a defender known for his combative style during his playing days, and Robinson, a goalkeeper who had to deal with a barrage of shots in a very exposed format, clearly cared enough about the outcome to shout at each other. Professional footballers are wired to hate losing, and that wiring does not switch off simply because the stakes are lower or the audience is made up of nostalgic fans. If anything, the former players have something extra to prove: they want to show that they can still compete, that the old edge remains and that the badge on the shirt still means something to them.

There is also a natural question about why a goalkeeper would be the target. In a game that finishes 5-4, the keeper is always exposed, and every goal conceded can look like a mistake in hindsight. Six-a-side football gives the person between the posts very little protection, because shots arrive from close range and from angles that rarely occur in full-sized matches. At the same time, outfield players can be just as responsible for allowing those chances, and it is common for a team to look for someone to blame when a lead is lost. Rangers had beaten Celtic 7-1 a day earlier and then lost a final by a single goal, a swing that would have frustrated anyone in the squad.

The reaction from the Rangers camp will be of interest too, because the leaked video put the team’s leadership in an awkward position. Barry Ferguson, as manager, had already exchanged words with Mulgrew on the pitch and now had a dressing room row to deal with as well. Ferguson was a captain of the club in his playing days and has never been shy about speaking his mind, so it would be surprising if he had treated the argument as anything but a typical heat-of-the-moment disagreement. Still, any footage that escapes onto social media creates a certain amount of embarrassment, and the former midfielder would not have wanted to see his team’s private frustration shared so widely.

The leak itself raises another point. Somebody inside the dressing room, or close to it, filmed the argument and passed it on, and by the time it reached supporters’ phones it had been picked up by a Celtic fan account. That is a reminder of how little privacy exists around modern football events, even those staged for nostalgia. A generation ago, a dressing room row at a sixes tournament might have remained a story told by those who were there. Today, any moment can become public within minutes, and the reputational damage, however mild, is out of the participants’ hands.

For the Rangers supporters, the response was probably mixed. Some would have been annoyed at the sight of club legends squabbling after a loss to their greatest rivals, particularly one that came after such a commanding group-stage win. Others would have shrugged it off as harmless banter, noting that the same passion that produced the argument is what made those players popular in the first place. Many may simply have been disappointed that a day that began with a 7-1 victory ended with the trophy going to Celtic. In the Old Firm world, those mixed emotions tend to resolve themselves quickly, because the next fixture is never far away.

The broader significance of the event is that it shows how strongly the rivalry survives outside the normal structure of the season. The Tennent’s Sixes was designed to bring back memories and celebrate the history of Scottish football, and it succeeded in drawing attention. But the stories that dominated the coverage afterwards were about a refused handshake, a heated exchange between a manager and an opponent, and a row in a dressing room. That is not a criticism. It is simply a recognition that the Old Firm produces drama wherever it goes, and that supporters on both sides are as invested in the small details as they are in the big results.

There is something almost reassuring about that, because it suggests that the revival has found its place. The original tournament ran for ten editions between 1984 and 1993, and the SPFL’s decision to bring it back as a legends competition was announced only in August. In a few weeks, the organisers managed to pull together all twelve Premiership clubs, secure a live television slot and produce an event that generated headlines for a few days. That is a successful return by almost any measure, and the Celtic and Rangers final did exactly what the organisers would have hoped for in terms of entertainment and interest.

At the same time, the episode is a reminder that nostalgia and competitiveness make an unpredictable mix. Former players who have spent years in punditry, coaching or quieter lives suddenly find themselves back in a dressing room with teammates and a shirt that carries real history. The adrenaline returns, the old habits resurface, and within minutes they are shouting at one another as if a league title were at stake. It is easy to laugh at that, but it is also the reason the event worked. If the players had treated the tournament as a casual kickabout, nobody would have cared about the result.

As for what happens next, nothing significant is likely to come of the Broadfoot and Robinson row. They are retired professionals, the tournament is over, and the most probable outcome is that the two men will joke about it the next time they meet. Footage like this has a short life, and once the next news cycle begins, attention will shift to the real matches that matter. The current Rangers and Celtic sides will play each other again before long, and the arguments that grow out of those games will carry far more weight than anything that happened in a six-a-side arena in October.

For Mulgrew, the story is slightly different, because his celebration and his exchange with Ferguson will probably be remembered as part of the personality that made him a fan favourite. Celtic supporters will look back on it fondly, while Rangers supporters will remember it with the same irritation they always feel when the former defender has the last word. He has already acknowledged that he got carried away, which takes some of the sting out of it, and it is hard to imagine that either Ferguson or Halliday will hold a grudge over what was essentially a moment of high spirits.

For Tom Boyd, the final was a personal success as manager. He had to deal with the fallout from a 7-1 defeat, motivate a squad that was clearly stung by the result and then deliver in the biggest match of the weekend. That he managed it, and that he can claim the win felt like a league title, will give him bragging rights among former teammates for a long time. Ferguson, meanwhile, will take the lesson that a big group-stage win means nothing once the knockout format arrives, and that a goalkeeper and defence under pressure can unravel quickly in a game that moves at this pace.

The tournament as a whole has to be considered a success, though perhaps not for the reasons the organisers originally planned. They wanted a celebration of Scottish football’s history, and they got it. They also got a final between the two biggest clubs in the country, a dramatic scoreline, a celebration controversy and a viral dressing room video, all of which guarantee that the event will be remembered and talked about. If the SPFL chooses to bring the competition back next year, there will be no shortage of interest from fans, broadcasters and former players eager to take part.

In the end, the argument between Broadfoot and Robinson is a small story in the scheme of Scottish football, but it captures something important about the game. People who have given their careers to the sport do not stop caring when they retire, and a defeat to Celtic still hurts no matter what form it takes or how many years have passed since the last competitive match. The footage may have been funny to outsiders, but to the players involved, it was real frustration at a result they badly wanted to avoid. That is the nature of the Old Firm, and it is the reason the rivalry continues to captivate everyone who follows it.

So the Tennent’s Sixes returns to the history books with Celtic as champions, Rangers as runners-up and a dressing room row as an unexpected footnote. The 7-1 win over Celtic in the group stage will be a talking point for Rangers supporters for a while, but the 5-4 loss in the final will carry more weight, because finals are what people remember. For one weekend at Braehead, a competition from the past reminded Scotland of why it fell in love with the game, and the arguments, handshakes and celebrations that followed were the proof that the rivalry has never really gone awa