The conundrum that is Ally McCoist was solved amid the melee of the Artemio Franchi Stadium. In football, humour can be a hindrance to due respect. Forget the hearty flirtation with Sue Barker that won him admiration from a wider audience. Forget the Auf Wiedersehen, Pet sketch with Wrighty, Dixon and Kamara that has made him and Ladbrokes a handsome pay-out. Forget, even, the short-lived movie career.

Tonight is McCoist's real shot at glory, an unforeseen set of circumstances that overwhelmed him as Nacho Novo nervelessly dispatched the fateful penalty against Fiorentina. In one rollercoaster of emotions, it elevated the Rangers coach to the heights of exaltation and reduced him to tears.

McCoist took a gamble - and a not inconsiderable financial hit - to swap the banal chat of punditry's soft sofa for a ringside seat of Walter Smith's renovation of Rangers. In terms of football experience, he is richer than ever before.

"I swear to God that I didn't think I'd see Rangers in a European final. Did any of us think we'd see this?" he asked excitedly as he prepared to plot the downfall of Zenit St Petersburg and Dick Advocaat, the man he met on the way out of Ibrox in the summer of 1998. "If we win, it will be as good as anything I have ever experienced in football and as good as anything I am ever likely to experience in football."

This is not a player of modest achievement finding his true calling. This is Rangers' greatest goalscorer of all time, most idolised player, and one the most decorated men in Rangers' history.

There is a romanticism to McCoist's return. As well as being reunited with the club and the manager who spared him the ignominy of leaving Rangers as a fringe player, he is sharing the adventure with his closest friend. Ally McCoist and Ian Durrant were the Cannon and Ball of the Rangers dressing room throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Yet there they were, in the DSB Stadium in Alkmaar, studiously examining the fibre of Zenit's craft.

"It's magic: the two of us have been fans since we were boys," said McCoist. "We lived the dream as players and now we're living a second dream as part of Walter's team. Playing is the best thing, but I can't do that any more and neither can Durranty, so what's the next best thing? We're involved with our team, a team we both supported from when we were kids and we're in a European final.

"At our point in life, this is the best thing we can do."

Having exposed the misconception of being a perennial prankster, McCoist is at least grateful that his return to Rangers has enabled the public to see the serious and sensitive sides of his nature.

"It never bothered me that people had this picture of me in their head," he said. "I created the monster, if you like, and I was quite happy to live with it.

"I enjoy a laugh, but my team-mates knew what I was really like. Everyone else could think what they liked, but I've always been serious about my football. Like most people, I enjoy a laugh at my work, but I do take my job seriously. If people are praising me for the work this year, then fine, and if others have changed their views on me, then okay."

His lips purse at the recollection of his flirtation with European greatness in season 1992/93. Marseille won the inaugural Champions League only to be stripped of the title after being found guilty of bribery. McCoist cites the ordering off of Mark Hateley against Brugge - it left him ineligible for the second match against Marseille - as a cruel, perhaps calculated, blow. It left him crying tears of sorrow when Rangers were eliminated on the final matchday against CSKA.

"The only thing that hurts me from 1993 is the fact that Mark Hateley and I were denied a crack at Marseille over there as a strike partnership," he said. "Big Mark was banned and I regret we didn't have a go at them while at full strength. We matched them in every other department, but Mark and I were at the top of our games and we'd have handled anything."

His relationship with Durrant is not founded on a cosmic understanding but raw Glasgow humour and kinship. Even their arguments are productive. "We agree on most things, but not all the time and that's what's good about two of us watching games; we come up with different thoughts and ideas," said McCoist. "It's fantastic, I love it. Durrant and I do these things and, just like the old days, don't agree on everything."

Old habits die hard. McCoist became so accustomed to life on the bench under Graeme Souness he was nicknamed The Judge. He was even known to bring a teapot to the dugout to make a comical contribution. He is a creature of habit and, in his previous existence, goals were his addiction.

He has a new set of superstitions, which, for a man as immaculate as he is, at least hints at some form of obsessive compulsive disorder.

"On that unbeaten run this season, my suit was an absolute disgrace," he said of the prolonged winning streak ended by Celtic. "I wouldn't let it be cleaned in case the good luck wore off.

"Then we got beaten and wee Viv his partner, Vivien was able to send the suit and tie to the cleaners. Then we didn't win for a few games - and this is quite pathetic really - so I kept taking the knot out of my tie and, when we won, last Wednesday, against Motherwell for the first time in ages I left the knot in my tie.

"You laugh and it sounds ridiculous, but it's what we do. It's madness, of course," he added. "People think that I'm going off my head and they are probably right, but I can't help myself."