The helicopters circle above Bergen, and somewhere in the Ibrox corridors, they're trying to figure out who'll actually be standing in the technical area when Rangers stumble into Brann Stadion on Thursday night. This isn't just a football match anymore—it's a referendum on whether Scottish football's fallen giant can even remember how to stand upright.
Let's be brutally honest about where we are. Rangers haven't won a Europa League match this season. They've collected zero points from two games. Zero. This is a club that once reached a European final, that used to make continental opponents sweat just by showing up. Now? They're the team everyone circles on the fixture list, the guaranteed three points, the scalp to mount on the wall. Brann, sitting pretty in 17th but with three points already banked, must be licking their lips at the sight of this Glasgow outfit limping into Norway.
The timing couldn't be more chaotic. Russell Martin got his marching orders on October 5th, and while the suits in Glasgow talk about Kevin Muscat and "rigorous processes," the reality is far messier. Muscat's locked in a title race in China, potentially unavailable until late November while Shanghai Port chase glory. Neil McCann might take the interim reins—a former teammate from Rangers' 2002/03 treble season—but that's hardly the stability you want when you're staring down the barrel of Europa League elimination before Halloween.
Here's what should terrify Rangers supporters: Brann know how to win these matches. They went to Lille—Lille—and only lost 2-1, with Sævar Atli Magnússon grabbing a goal that proved they belong at this level. Then they turned around and beat Utrecht 1-0 at home, Magnússon striking again just before halftime. The Icelandic midfielder has become the Norwegian side's European talisman, and he'll be sensing blood in the water when Rangers arrive.
Rangers, meanwhile, are a team running on fumes and false hope. That 1-1 draw at Falkirth before the international break summed up their malaise perfectly—Bojan Miovski scoring but unable to inspire a team that's forgotten what winning feels like in Europe. Their Europa League campaign has been a funeral march: lost 1-0 to Genk without registering a meaningful shot, then went to Sturm Graz and conceded twice despite Djeidi Gassama's brief moment of hope. The attacking numbers tell the story—0.6 goals per game over their last ten matches. In modern football, that's not struggling; that's drowning.
The tactical battle should favor Brann's coach Eirik Alexandersson, who's guided his team to four wins in their last six matches across all competitions. His side averages 1.8 goals per game and plays with the confidence of a team that believes it belongs on this stage. Rangers? They're a side waiting for someone—anyone—to tell them what they're supposed to be doing. Without permanent leadership, without tactical cohesion, without the goals to punish opponents, they're vulnerable in ways that would have been unthinkable three years ago.
Emil Kornvig has been finding the net for Brann in domestic competition, and the Danes know how to hurt Scottish defenses. James Tavernier will need the game of his life at right-back, but he's been isolated for months, a captain without the soldiers to support him. Max Aarons grabbed a late winner against Livingston, but that feels like ancient history now—a reminder of what Rangers could be rather than what they are.
The stakes are simple and brutal. Rangers lose this match, and they're staring at six points from six games as a best-case scenario. That's Europa League oblivion. That's explaining to supporters how a club with their resources and history managed to crash out of Europe's second-tier competition like a Championship side on a bad run. Brann, sitting on three points, can smell the top 24 and automatic progression. They've done the hard work; now they get to feast on the carcass of Scottish football's wounded lion.
Thursday night in Bergen isn't just another European fixture. It's the moment we find out whether Rangers can salvage anything from this continental catastrophe or whether they'll confirm what the rest of Europe already suspects—that this once-mighty club has become a cautionary tale, a reminder that history and jerseys don't win football matches. Brann have the form, the goals, the momentum, and the home crowd. Rangers have chaos, confusion, and a caretaker manager who might not even be there next month.
The beautiful game has a way of exposing pretenders, and under the Norwegian floodlights, there'll be nowhere left for Rangers to hide.