IT'S all over. At long last we can get an answer to the big question: Does the end always justify the means? Was it REALLY worth it?

The sackings of George Burley, Jim Duffy, Graham Rix, Phil Anderton? The resignation of George Foulkes?

The graceless you're all out to get us paranoia? The freezing out of all-round good guy Andy Webster? The interference in team selections?

The woman with the golden sticks and the man with striped pyjamas? An entire season spent having your dirty washing aired on every back page - and occasional front page - in the country?

Can ANY ending ever justify a season of insanity like the one Hearts have just been through? I was there on Wednesday night. There's only one answer. Hell, YES.

You can be as sceptical as you like about Vladimir Romanov and his methods but you CANNOT argue with the end product. You might not like the way he got there but he delivered. End of story.

And you'll never persuade any of the 16,500 Jambos leaping around in delirium the other night otherwise. They don't give a monkeys' what the outside world thinks of them or their overlord.

All they care about is blowing the dust off their passports.

I've been more critical than most of Romanov. I still hate the way he treats people like something you'd scrape off your shoe - his comments the other day about Duffy and Rix were a disgrace.

But I'm jealous as hell. And deep down all those on the outside looking in are probably feeling the same way. It's easy to moralise about right and wrong but none of it matters when it's you.

We talked in the office about the same question asked right at the start here.

The age old question: What would you sell your soul to the devil for?

Or in football terms, what would you sacrifice for ONE moment of ultimate glory? Depending on who you support the answer will be different because your expectations are different.

Me? If I ever got to see Falkirk play even ONCE in Europe, something we've never achieved, I'd trade that for the next 10 years in the SPL, no problem.

Ayr United man was the same. One shot, to hell with the consequences.

Rangers fan at the desk? Would he swap winning the UEFA Cup next season for five years without another trophy? Yes he would.

The Celtic fan? Champions League glory or 10 years of nothing at home? Europe, thanks.

Why? Because these are life-defining moments, 'Remember the day' milestones that would echo through you like a heartbeat for the rest of your life.

We're there, week in week out, backing our teams. But we all have our dreams. And one game in Europe might not seem like much of a dream to your average Old Firm fan but to me, my dad, my brother, our mates, that's what it is.

And if someone came along and made it come true the way Vlad's done for Hearts fans? I'd take it and worship the ground he walked on. Principles or not.

Because that's what it is. A game of scruples. I don't believe the majority of Hearts fans would enjoy having someone like Romanov as THEIR boss.

If they walked into their banks or schools or law offices or accountancy firms or McDonalds, wherever they work, and found someone as trigger happy as him they'd hate every minute.

Trust me, I've worked for a couple of megalomaniacs. It's no fun.

But from the comfort of your seat in the Wheatfield Stand? Fine by me Vlad. Fire away.

The other thing I've been reading all week is we'll find out more what Hearts are really made of NEXT season.

Again, though, if you're a Jambo who cares? No-one's saying this is going to be a one-season wonder or the wheels will come off the gravy train any time soon.

They could, though. Who knows? Next season they might be scrambling around in mid table.

And if they were? Hey-ho. You'll always have Paris. Or Rome. Or Prague. Or wherever it is you end up in August. You'll have a memory no-one can ever deny you.

But no matter what happens do me one favour - lose this "the world hates us" chip on your shoulder you've all started carting round with you.

We've heard it for decades from the Old Firm. The country's too small for another paranoid institution.

It's not even true. I spent the first half of the season WILLING you through every game (except at the Bairnabeu obviously) praying you'd be there long enough to deprive the big two of the title. It's what Scottish football needed.

Then I spent the second half wrestling with my conscience and wondered whether I could back someone who treated people the way some wouldn't treat dogs?

Wondering whether missing out on second place might be poetic justice?

But standing there on Wednesday night, looking at the punters and wishing it was me, the answer to the question I've been asking all season could not have been clearer.

Taken from the Sunday Mail