A page devoted to Hibernian Football Club of Edinburgh, Scotland. I've a great affinity to the Hibernian club, historically through family ties over the generations.

During the past few years whilst visiting various Hibs websites, I have written several articles for those sites and latterly for the fanzine 'Mass Hibsteria'. Please feel welcome to browse some these articles old and new pieces will be added to this page at regular intervals.

Happily, the "grand oul" club is going through something of a renaissance as I write. Hibernian under the excellent current management team of Tony Mowbray and Mark Venus are a fabulous and vital team to watch - as exciting as any club in the country with their expansive, "fast flowing football to feet, played at pace". If this were not enough to make those of us with green Hibernian blood flowing through our veins excited enough, the team possesses a majority of young home-reared, Scottish youngsters - many of whom undoubtedly have huge careers ahead of them.

Come with me and "Feel the passion - Live the Dream"!

Glory, Glory To The Hibees

Scotland has had a prodigious history in producing a long line of wingers. Indeed our very own Hibernian gave to the world the man who was termed the ‘Prince of Wingers’ in the great Gordon Smith, possibly unsurpassed in ability, certainly by the accounts of those who were fortunate enough to have seen him don the green and white jersey.

What is it about these men that sets them apart in temperament and style from players in other positions? It’s always been a source of curiosity to me. Some people talk about eccentric goalies, and in fairness there have been plenty of those between the sticks, a role perhaps akin to being the drummer in a band? I however am fascinated by these wizards of the dribble, these men who leave the field of play with a liberal amount of chalk dust on their boots after hugging the touchline all game. These wide boys.

Some time ago this subject became focused in my mind after having a conversation with a former colleague who had spent some time reporting for the Lincolnshire Echo newspaper. His assertion was of, ‘you know – he was one of those useless ******* wingers’, (he used reasonably earthy language) when referring to an erstwhile Scottish tanner ba’ player who had the misfortune to find his career washed up in the arid football atmosphere of the east of England cathedral city for many unfruitful seasons.

After dusting down my Celtic pride I realised his point. For every great winger there are a number of great pretenders and just general numpties. Flattering to deceive is the first skill that any decent outside right or left should learn rather than how to put a half-decent cross over.

The modern wing-back appears to have largely taken over the traditional winger’s role but these players are not the genuine article. For one thing they run back and help their team mates and no self-respecting winger would ever consider such recklessness. They are there to attack, that appears the simple logic behind the thinking of the wide man.

There are many types to the genre, the most instantly recogisable classifications being the ‘Wee Jinky’ type and the ‘Flyer’. Think Jimmy Johnstone for the former, (naturally) and Arthur Duncan for the latter for stereotypes of these performers.

Whilst wee Jimmy was arguably as good as it gets in this role as five foot nothing of pure trickery and bamboozlement, lesser imitations of the man are more easily swept under the carpet. Whilst Jimmy could easily beat four men on a mazy run, (watch out for that expression) lesser wingers must necessarily learn the skill of beating the same man four times. All well and good if he can finally be unloaded of the ball by the patient defender too after exhaustion sets in, (wingers only truly run about a bit when they have the ball). Whilst this is the most likely outcome for the Wee Jinky, there are usually other options open to the Flyer.

Those of us who can say we saw Ned Turnbull’s Tornadoes will always have a special place in our h***ts for Arthur Duncan. This paragon of the flying winger fraternity entertained us all for many winters with his dashing wing play (keep an eye on that term too). A great and loved, long servant to Hibernian, Arthur could on occasion frustrate even his most loyal fans. Who can forget that sprinter’s pace down the touchline, possibly only equalled by Erich Schaedler backing up behind him in the left back berth? It’s at this point that we need to think of outcomes again. Whilst the Jinky will often meekly surrender the ball to a bemused full back after drilling himself into the turf with just that one turn too many, the Flyer might more likely be seen running the ball straight over the by-line and into the crowd. If he knows his job properly he will also be seen following the ball into said crowd too at this point. It’s times like these that strong relationships are bonded between the Flyer and his long-suffering followers.

The second option open to this type of winger is a humdinger too. An experienced Flyer must understand the art of a decent anti-climax too. Picture the scene because we have all been there. The midfielder or full back releases the flying wingman from a deep position; the winger sets off like the proverbial bat out of hell down the line showing fine close control (i.e. not letting the ball run any more than twenty-five yards in front of him) and finally makes it to his spiritual home at the bye-line, ball intact. This is the point where matters from looking promising take on a new form as the trigger is drawn for that pinpoint cross into the middle. Over the ball goes…and pitches adjacent the opposite corner flag before bouncing haplessly out for a throw in on the opposite wing despite a despairing slide from the opposite wide man. Even worse than this is the cross that finds its way behind the net as angry looking team mates glower over from the penalty area. The skilled Flyer will at this juncture use all his experience and glare disbelievingly at an imaginary divot at his feet before running back, shaking his head.

I could perhaps be accused of being a little facetious here but in truth I have always, like many others enjoyed watching wingers play. They bring expansiveness to the game that is sadly often lacking in modern football. Wherever there is a decent winger in some kind of goodish nick there is always bound to be entertainment to follow.

It’s true to say that many of the greatest exponents in this position have been Scottish and it’s on some of those characters I’ll concentrate here. I’ve already mentioned my admiration for Jimmy Johnstone, but there have been so many. In a similar vein Willie Henderson was charged with attempting to equal Jimmy’s exploits over the other side of Glasgow, a similar kind of player, Willie did that well enough to earn Scotland jerseys. His team mate on the opposite wing Willie ‘Bud’ Johnstone actually combined the characteristics of both the Flyer and the Jinky. An interesting anecdote I heard about Bud was that during Rangers’ infamous training sessions running up and down the dreaded sand dunes of Gullane, Willie would actually perform these runs in pit boots. No wonder he was flying come Saturday afternoon…

Willie was one of the few people I have ever seen sit on the ball during a game – surely the ultimate embarrassment to the opposition? He was playing out of his skin for West Bromwich Albion by this time (and into selection ready for his most notorious hour in Argentina but that’s another story entirely.) Against the not-so-mighty Notts County this particular afternoon, Willie was having an absolute field day and looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself against the bothered and bewildered County defence. Finally he showed his mastery (and boredom) by perching his back side on the ball down by the left corner flag as the perspiring Notts rearguard looked at each other nervously to decide who would try and take the ball away from him. Some in the home crowd scalded Willie as you might imagine, not me, he was doing his job of entertaining the paying customers - and doing it sublimely.

Uddingston native, John Robertson (the Forest and Scotland player not the Newcastle reject) was another I never tired of watching. Robbo’s innate football ability only really saw light of day when Brian Clough moved him from midfield and barred him from the chippy. This coincided shortly afterwards with a rich vein of form for several seasons operating as a conventional outside left which took John to European silverware and Scotland caps. In a way there was no mystery about John’s wing play, whichever way the full back went he went the other, simple eh? Pin point crosses and in addition the most cool and deadly penalty taker in the business were other weapons in his armoury. Clough’s TV assertion referring to the Scotland party heading for Argentina ’78, that Robbo ‘has so much skill he should fly the plane’ sticks in the memory.

Former long time Leeds outside left Eddie Gray was another favourite. In a team full of hard men, (even the forwards) Gray stood out as one player who’s game was purely based on skill rather than cynicism. Gray was often unfairly compared to George Best over the Pennines which seemed a little unfair to me. He was the scorer of my favourite goal of all time (barring Hibs of course!) On that occasion Eddie seemed to beat practically the whole Burnley team in a solo effort of breathtaking artistry with the ball. Gray danced his way along the left touchline before working his way in towards the opposition net leaving defenders floundering this way and that in his trail before slotting home. A goal of absolutely staggering skill.

I could hardly end these words without mentioning some of our own Hibernian touchline favourites. My apologies if I’ve left yours out. Mickey Weir on his day could be almost unstoppable; also a great fan favourite to this day and an unforgettable sight in those new-style baggy shorts he was asked to wear alongside his team mates of the day. I very much liked the tandem of Kevin ‘Crunchie’ McAllister and Michael O’ Neill that Alex Miller introduced to Hibs. Hibs were a joy to watch at last with these two wingers operating in the same side. They were also a good foil for each other in style. McAllister earned his ‘Crunchie’ tag as a youngster playing in a team with another boy called ‘Crunch’, apparently, thus he became know as ‘Wee Crunchie’.

I’ll end on one of our greatest men, outside left of the inimitable and legendary Famous Five, Willie Ormond. Perhaps all of the Five were overshadowed at times by the glittering skills and matinee idol looks of Gordon Smith on the right wing, but Musselburgh native, Willie should, like the others be remembered in his own right as a wonderful talent. Like the rest of the Five I only have others’ reminisces to form a judgement on, including those of my own family. One need only listen for a few moments to an appreciation of Willie by his two remaining line mates Lawrie Reilly and Eddie Turnbull to understand what a talent he was. Any man who could impart the classis quote, ‘if I’d had a right foot you’d have never heard of Pele’ had to cut a bit of a dash didn’t he?

Glossary of winger terms

Flyer – the fabled ‘Flying winger’, an outside man of breathtaking pace but not necessarily any other talent whatsoever. Often tall with a raking stride. Most often seen running in straight line towards the corner flag with a posse of defenders giving chase.

Wee Jinky – Usually small and very manoeuvrable, the jinky will normally rely on trickery and ball play to outfox the opposition. Not averse to taking on the same defender several times the jinky is primarily an entertainer. There is often a problem with peripheral vision in these types – they don’t have any.

Dasher – as in ‘he’s a bit of a dasher, (see ‘flyer’)

Mazy dribble – a long, weaving run that confuses winger and defender alike.

Nijinsky, et al – the names of famous race horses can often be used in the identifying of flyers. This is to be encouraged.

Dribbling – the prime weapon of the Jinky, often used as a precursor to falling over.

Buccaneer – this is usually applied to a player most usually considered to be too large and bulky to play the wide position. ‘The buccaneering winger’.  Robust play is the key term here in the buccaneering winger who will burst forth at any opportunity, splaying great sheaths of defenders from his path with a large barrel chest.

Moving back – all good things come to an end. The last bastion of the winger just before the boots stay on the peg forever. Not always 100% successful as any good winger worth his salt will have spent the last fifteen years of his career without making a single worthwhile tackle.

(From Mass Hibsteria, issue 111, January 2005)

One area of technology that our game has not been to slow to utilise however is that of the media, in particular the Internet. It would be interesting to know just how many fans of our own club Hibernian have no access to the online news and views of the players, officials and fans of the club at all. For me personally, and for most fellow Hibbies I am of the acquaintance of, the days of not being able to communicate by this method seem in the far and distant past.

Obviously not living in or around The Lothian’s, the amount of contact and closeness that distant fans like myself are able to feel to the club and to other fans is not comparable to years ago in the days when my personal Hibernian lifeline was the Sunday Post – delivered to my folk’s house on a Monday lunchtime here in Nottingham. At that time a fuzzy monochrome picture of a Stanton or Cropley was about as good as it got, accompanied by a few well-worn clichés from the likes of Doug Ballie.

How different things are now. Daily news, chatter and rumour provided by websites such as Mass Hibsteria and the other sites have succeeded in filling a huge void, not just for us ‘distants’, of which there are many all around the world, but for local supporters too.

Customs are changing around our old game whether we enjoy that or not. Many decry the passing of standing terraces, and some of the more roughly-hewn facets of the game, on and off the field. These are issues for another day. It’s interesting however to compare how football friendships and communities are forming these days.

I’m sure that I speak for many when I relate how I got into football as a youngster by the traditional method of being taken by my father and other family members. As the years go on though many of us find ourselves visiting Easter Road or wherever our chosen ground is, with friends and contemporaries, perhaps from school, college, University whatever. Perhaps we are members of supporters clubs. Often these relationships through football are very long-lived and certainly habitual. Perhaps a sizeable few drop by the wayside as marriage, children and work pressures come along, only to return at a more convenient window in people’s lives.

Socially speaking
Over the past few short years I have observed football fans and friends meeting and getting together in new ways by means of Internet messageboards and the like, indeed this has been my happy experience on returning home to Edinburgh to see the Hibs on many occasions I’m very happy to state. A group of Hibbies these days drinking in a pub on Easter Road before a derby game might have members from England, Australia, Canada or Germany. Just as our children might have a best friend in Singapore by way of the Internet. Things are changing.

One age-old custom that many of us away from the home of our club miss is that of a pint and a chat about our team pre-game and of course, the post-game review of where it al went right/wrong that afternoon. Nothing can truly replace the kindred feeling of being amongst ‘your own’; however conversing on the net as a substitute does shrink the miles, of that there is no doubt.

Printed versus online matter in football
Recently I noted a debate as to the relative pros and cons of the above forms of communication within the game. This debate could easily be widening out to the reading of website material as against books and magazines generally, for example some will always prefer a good tome, a glossy magazine or a decent broadsheet to peruse over at leisure on a lazy Sunday morning. It’s indisputable for me that this will be the case for a long time to come yet. Anyone actually tried reading an e-book yet?

To come to the point, the conversation was comparing match day programs against gleaning information and entertainment from football websites. Obviously both have their strengths and weaknesses. Not being a collector myself, it’s rare that I will buy an official program from any event, including a football match, though conversely I have always been an avid reader of fanzines and their more irreverent view! I see official programs as somewhat sanitised, out of date in many circumstances and certainly overpriced.

Collectible?
For me too, for something to be collectible it has to be very worthy in the first place. If I may, I’ll use the analogy of the classic car market. A Ford Anglia may be rare and unusual, in 2005 but it was never an E-type Jaguar, nor was it intended to be. I’m sure the Ford Motor Company would have been astounded all those years ago if they imagined that anyone would revere and keep the ‘Anglebox’ today! No, it was intended to use and throw away afterwards.

Compare the match program to the modern rush of technological opportunities though. These days, not only can up to the minute news be viewed on the Internet, it can also be downloaded onto a personal pc and carried around. Scoreflashes and news can be collected by WAP Internet on mobiles. Bluetooth and other technologies will take us way beyond what we have now.

The technology is, as we know, also roughly in place to show live Internet coverage of games through our PC’s – both radio and pictures. Things will never be the same again nor should they be as technology relentlessly moves on. Occasionally this same technology is industry-led and there is a public resistance but generally the public have a thirst for it I feel.  It might be that the tradition of the match day program could well in time end in the same place as the football rattle and rosette did - a long forgotten memory. In some ways we will all be sad about that perhaps as it will be another part of football’s heritage gone forever. It just wouldn’t be the same keeping your digital images in the loft would it?

(Printed in Mass Hibsteria, issue 111, January 2005)

(From Mass Hibsteria, Monday, 14 March 2005)

My hand is held high; yes I am a traditionalist, in many matters, but particularly in our beautiful old club.

I think it desirable to look to the future, with one eye on the past. Lessons once learnt should be held close and cherished.

The ‘old boys’ should never be forgotten, they gave us this legacy, this football club, one that some us fondly believe is like no other.

One of the reasons that Hibernian is so unique in its ethos is largely because of the original good work carried out by its founding fathers, the kindly Canon and the men who stood by him as he carried out his work to help the underprivileged – those in dire need of charitable help.

Thoughts at this time of year inevitably go towards those less fortunate than ourselves. I thought it the best of all times to offer this as a suggestion to the people charged with and giving of their time and efforts in helping our football club survive and prosper, as it must.

As a suggestion for the relevant steering committee, whichever that might be, could we pursue a course of action towards returning to our roots in some small way? That of helping people in need? I feel it would cement the reason why we are all here supporting, loving, and yes, even fighting about this dear old club of ours God bless us!

The return of such an ethos would bring another relevance as to why we are all Hibernians. The reason why we are all here still after all these years, talking to each other, sometimes even from different lands, on a daily basis. Proud of the Green and White in our hearts.

Of course the first thought on this might well be ‘what does that do for us?’ I could attempt to answer that by saying it would give us a better profile and all of those associated types of things, and that I feel would be true. To state that it would again return us to our ‘uniqueness’ would also perhaps be equally true. There would be benefits for the club, of that I have no doubt.

Most of all though we would be doing something for others that need help – the truest and most important concept of Edinburgh Hibernian Football Club. I can think of no finer thought as Christmas is almost upon us once more.

Erin Go Bragh

‘Hibernian was run by St. Patrick’s CYMS as an amateur charitable football club. The charitable work of Hibernian became legendary not only in Edinburgh but throughout Scotland’, (Lugton, 1999).

I began writing these words some two weeks ago after the story of David Alexander and his brave fight against illness came to my attention via the Hibs.net messageboard. A thread by a regular contributor took my eye and aroused my interest. 'John', who I am happy to call an acquaintance, posted a link to the Heart of Midlothian, (yes I still use that name), website ‘Kickback’, where a thread detailing young David’s bravery and courage lay.

Just recently I had registered for that forum, after receiving a generous and agreeable message or two privately from a couple of our friendly rivals across the city. I had an intention to post a few words there at a suitable moment, purely as a friendly response to the words I had received. That day a week ago was the day that I chose to make a small initial contribution to that forum, no better or more apt a moment would there have been to choose I felt.

As I observed not only on Kickback but also all the main Hibernian sites over the past few days, the story of young David Alexander has touched many hearts due to his bravery and selflessness. Who could not be moved by the story of how this young man requested that his life savings be put to use in the funds of Cclasp www.cclasp.co.uk , an organisation dealing in helping children suffering from Cancer and Leukaemia? I’d like to come back to this subject shortly if I may. I think that day and that article in The Daily Record made many of us feel very humble indeed.

The Daily Record

I think it important David should know that we are all thinking of him, and that he and his family have our full support in these trying times. Certainly that is the case judging by the warmth shown across the various message boards. This caring attitude has been manifested as wanting to help in some way, to contribute just as David has done to this very deserving charity. Already we have seen various fund raising ideas from quiz nights to a dedicated football tournament, all fine thoughts by some very gracious people.

With all due respects and great thanks given to our friendly rivals across the city, I’d like to talk about what I think of as the soul and ethos of Hibernian Football Club.

Our legacy, set firmly in place by Canon Hannan is one of decency and giving. It is one of helping others and offering a helping hand where needed. That Edinburgh Hibernian came about was no accident, no casual happening, but was a concept of the kindly Canon in his quest to help others. For this we should be very proud.

Canon Hannan and Michael Whelahan, along with many helpers wove the rich fabric of the early years of the club into an organisation that belonged to the community of Edinburgh and to the ancient Port of Leith. So began a strong association between the peoples of those places, the community of Hibernian Football Club.

That this football club of ours is so blessed with uniqueness offers me great pleasure and satisfaction and not a little love. Not merely is it a football club alone when one stops to consider the goodness, caring, fellowship and good deeds that have emerged from this body of people from the shadows of the past.

I say all this as a framework to a little personal quest of mine. I have a desire that in some way the club might be able to return to it’s roots, and this is where the story of the brave young Hibs supporter David, I mentioned previously comes in.

Something I would love to see happen is for David’s chosen charity Cclasp to be patronised by Hibernian Football club as a fitting honour to our fellow Hibernian fan’s courage. I would love it to evolve into a long-term relationship and for the followers of Hibernian to identify with this cause, to relate to it and to offer the outstretched hand of help. If any person in an official capacity would care to respond to this suggestion in a positive way it would personally fill me full of pride and the belief I still have in this institution called Hibernian. There lays a friendly challenge laid down from a lifelong supporter of this club, ‘The Green Jerseys’.

Not merely offering words but I will personally offer deeds too. I had a plan to run a 26.2m marathon race event once again this year and wanted to raise money in memory of another very brave young man, sadly no longer with us. www.terryfox.org I am confident I could raise several hundred pounds in this quest too. David’s chosen charity I have decided is the perfect recipient and it will be done.

I echo the suggestions about a football tournament and other fund raising ideas and to those people I say ‘well done’ and ‘make it happen’. Wouldn’t it feel good if we could all correlate our ideas in one place and work together with the club on a long-term basis?

Happily the football club could only see benefits from such a patronage in my view. When the marketers talk of ‘branding’ and ‘relationship marketing’, what a wonderful identity to own – that of the club from and of the community, retaining and progressing strong ties with it’s people.

The football club that cares about it’s heritage, and community.

‘The social background of Hibernian Football Club, their founding and their early history, which have given us a club for all the community, a club with an unconquered soul. Supporting Hibernian is a way of life for thousands, and if we supporters wish to remain true to the humble roots from which Hibernian sprang, we should from time to time pause and consider whether we move under our own direction or at the bidding of forces we did not originate and cannot control.

The social background of Hibernian and early years of Hibernian Football Club should be remembered positively, as something to be treasured and as inspiration for the future. The making of Hibernian has been brave, colourful and romantic.’ (Lugton, 1999).

            January, 2003

           Reference:
              LUGTON, A., The Making of Hibernian. Edinburgh:Donald.

Roadrunner once...Roadrunner twice

Ivan Sproule! The name on every Hibee’s lips of late. The young Ulsterman is currently cutting a swathe through every defence that trembles in his way to goal, and what excitement he is creating for the Hibs support!

The twenty-four year old former engineer, presently staking a late claim for first-class football with the Hibs is the talk of the SPL and out with it seems so let’s take a look at this emergent talent and examine if there is a likelihood of longevity of his recent exploits.

There have been many players in the game previously with huge pace and not a little trickery combined that have come along and taken a club and its league by storm and Ivan Sproule is but the latest in a long line of such players. Please make no mistake however, that is not to denigrate the young Irishman’s fine achievements over the past few weeks. Suddenly after only four recent games as a substitute it appears that Ivan’s fledgling professional career is about to explode into outer space – beware however, there are several precedents for failure.

Of course it might be said that previous similar players who have fallen by the wayside might partly be due to the huge expectancy placed upon the shoulders of every footballer of this kind. It becomes almost a right of the crowd that every time the ball reaches such a player’s fast feet that fireworks should occur.

I sometimes muse that the game’s defenders aren’t given their rightful credit at times. How  many times have we seen a young ‘wonder boy’ to coin the old phrase, have an amazing initial season only to be found out and worked out by the defenders that now have the experience of dealing with this not-quite-so-new threat? Yes defenders do actually talk to each other at times despite contrary opinion, they chat about which way a player tends to move, whether he has a right foot roll, his pet tricks and all. It’s their job, it pays their mortgage.

Reading this you may suppose I’m putting rather a dampener on Ivan’s recent crusade to entertain the Hibernian faithful and what’s more make a name for himself. Not so. This boy by all accounts has something special, he has blinding pace and we all know that the modern game revolves around that quality. Speed disorientates in sport. Sometimes we see a footballer or other sportsman deceive the opposition but at a pace that the defender has time to recover. The same trickery performed at pace however can be murderous and extremely incisive.

From the little footage I have been able to observe of Ivan Sproule he also possesses an even more unique skill than the one to run like the wind, that of direct running, now this IS a rare commodity in today’s game and for me will be, if anything the pivotal ability that projects Ivan into a hugely successful career. We think back to players the likes of Paul Gascoigne and in my own case, Stan Collymore who I had the pleasure of watching a few times. These players were dynamic for many reasons but the primary one was that they ran straight at defenders. Try and find a defender that enjoys being tested in this way – they’re rare indeed. What’s more it’s terrific for us fans to watch, opening up the game and dictating the tempo the way it does. Note again however the two temperamental individuals concerned here. A psychologist’s dream some might be tempted to say.

Ivan in typical pose!

The next stage for the young forward will be in actually establishing himself in the first team! In all the excitement perhaps some of us are forgetting that his recent deeds have all been as a substitute. Sometimes it’s difficult for a substitute to come on to the field and contribute meaningfully during the hurly-burly of the game, at other times the stage is set for a Sproule to dictate the outcome – just as he did so devastatingly at Ibrox. I’m sure the issue of a regular peg in the first team dressing room is the only one in Ivan Sproule’s mind at the moment, encouraged by manager Tony Mowbray.

Time will tell if Ivan Sproule will be a five-minute wonder. My considered opinion is that he will succeed. For one reason he has a hunger for the game, he plays as though he’s in the last chance saloon to impress, perhaps indeed he is. In the meanwhile Hibernian will reap the benefit.

I’m sure there was something about Joe that transcended pure hero-worship though, judging by the effect he had on football supporters whoever had the blessing to call him the centre-forward of their team. Who can forget the homage paid to him back in Torino for all those years ago? The Baker Boy played but a mere single season in Italy with another young prodigal, Denis Law, yet still he is remembered with much fondness and not a little acclaim.

Much has been lovingly written about Joe, not least in the Mass Hibsteria fanzine and on this website. For an anecdotal history and a full account of his many achievements, please note the references at the foot of the page to two excellent articles.

My aim here is not to compete with those excellent words but to offer a different and personal slant on the Joe Baker story, for this man wove through my younger days, seemingly inextricably.

Denis Law inspects Joe’s face after his recuperation
from their infamous car accident in Torino

As a youngster living in Nottingham, though a firm Hibernian supporter, I was ironically able to watch a great Hibernian hero at something like his peak. This is not an opportunity that would have been afforded me in Edinburgh not being old enough to watch his exploits at Hibs the first time around. Although I was too young to understand everything that was happening on the pitch I was under no illusion that I was watching anything but a great and legendary player in Nottingham. Joe just had that special ‘aura’ about him which was very hard to explain and which belongs to the very few.

The football fans from the red side of Nottingham could hardly believe their good fortune when Joe, from Arsenal, signed on the dotted line at The City Ground. Joe had a stunning goal-scoring record at Highbury which at my last inspection was superior to Thierry Henry’s in goals per game – no mean feat. What was very noticeable was how well the Nottingham public took to Joe – like a favourite son. Still to this day the football fans of the city talk of the number nine in hushed and reverential tones. Similarly one can also still view the odd ‘Baker 9’ garibaldi red Forest jersey around the city. How I love to see that.

By my calculations it’s around thirty-eight years since Joe wowed the big, City Ground crowds with his surging forward play, how many players do you know with that kind of longevity of popularity – especially as Joe played for Forest for only a relatively short period of time?

Shortly after Joe died I met a friend, a friend who is a Nottingham Forest supporter of many years standing and one who has seen many wonderful internationalists play for his team winning a large quantity of silverware. His first words to me that evening were simply and sadly, “my one and only all-time hero died this week”. The words were almost unnecessary but the understanding between two lovers of the great game was implicit.

Those schoolboy images of him remain extremely vivid to me, the equal or more than any other player I can think of. I still see the low through ball hit between two defenders and Joe in a blur or acceleration racing onto the pass leaving his markers yards behind. Not only did he have blinding pace but the quickness of thought that made him almost unstoppable at times. Another strong image is of him turning a defender and shooting explosively with either foot equally. Add strong aerial ability, superb close control, and agility around the box and one has the master centre-forward which is what Joe was.

The dynamic Baker crashes in another goal
in the red shirt of Nottingham Forest

How pleased was I when he re-signed for the Hibees, passing by an unhappy period of injury at Forest and then Sunderland. Deep in my heart I knew it was all over though, we would never see the great forward in his pomp of the likes we had done before. For the Nottingham fans there was to be no gnashing of teeth at Joe’s unhappy departure as they knew he would never be the same as befitted his free transfer from the club, much as they loved him. One last fling at Easter Road seemed very appropriate to me as a Hibernian supporter though.

My one last poignant memory of Joe and me was after the news of his death. I received a message at home on the lunchtime before Hibs’ next game in which he would be honoured before the kick-off. The message simply asked me if I’d like to be a part of the minute’s silence for Joe which was going to happen at Easter Road and to stay by my mobile phone.

That afternoon shortly before 3pm I received a call from a very good friend and Hibby sitting in the Famous Five Stand. I wasn’t at home though as I wanted to share my last moments with Joe Baker somewhere special. In the locality where I live there lies forestry, part of what would have historically been ancient Sherwood Forest. I took my daily jog through those woodlands and sat on a bench at a clearing amongst the ancient oaks and birches on that sunny Saturday afternoon and took the call I had been awaiting. A brief announcement from my friend, and I listened in to the sound of silence and utter respect from my other home at Easter Road.

As I sat there in silence looking at the autumn sun glistening through the trees with just a pair of horses for company in the nearby field, I remembered what Joe had meant to me as a boy. I think Joe would have appreciated his one last day in the sun too – in the green fields of Nottinghamshire.

Stu

The Baker Boy: Joe’s Story

http://www.masshibsteria.com/index.php?option=news&task=viewarticle&sid=68

Peter Barr Cormack –
Rock and Roll Footballer!

An unusual title you might say but allow me to explain as all will be revealed! Peter Barr Cormack was one of my three favourite Hibees of all time along with Joe Baker and Alex Cropley. All very different players but owning a little genius each in their own way.

Like the aforementioned Joe, I had the great pleasure of watching Peter play both with Hibernian and Nottingham Forest to whom he was transferred to for £80,000 in 1969.

From a very early age Peter displayed a maturity beyond his years. His legendary debut against Real Madrid in which he debuted with a goal in Hibs’ 2-0 victory is well-charted in the history of notable moment in the club and what an amazing feeling that must have been for the young Peter Cormack. Much more was to follow in a distinguished career for the good-looking young man with the shock of dark hair, bursting into Hibernian’s ranks.

I have often talked with interest about Peter with other Hibbies who managed to watch him in his prime. It seems that everyone who saw him had an opinion about him, particularly about the unique way in which he moved about the pitch. One friend, a Portobello man, related to me once about how he would watch Peter Cormack at Easter Road from the East Terrace and skip all the way back home to Porty after the game, imitating Peter’s trademark high-stepping gait. Peter had this appearance of kicking his legs up high behind him when he ran - a run that was always instantly recognisable amongst a group of players in the middle of a game. I recently spoke to another long-time supporter who likened Peter’s run to that of a racehorse galloping! Here was far more to Peter Barr Cormack than an unusual run however as he was to show.

Whatever persuaded Hibs to offload their talented young player I’m not really sure. I’ll make the standard conclusion that the board at Easter Road wanted or needed to ease Hibernian’s cash flow – there could be little other reason as Cormack began to show, growing in stature in the original English Division 1, firstly with Nottingham Forest, then with a powerful Liverpool side, led by the legendary Bill Shankly – perhaps no mean judge of a player one might say.

Peter was one of those players that represented a certain era for me personally – along with George Best and a select few he seemed to be part of a vanguard of young footballers who were part of the generation that I looked up to. Georgie Best had just been crowned ‘El Beatle’ after his exploits in the European Cup, and seemed a lifetime away from men like Bobby Charlton and the old guard. There was an awful lot happening in society at this time – The Beatles had grown their hair long and were taking drugs for one thing! ‘Flower power’ had been all around and young people were seeking the route back to San Francisco – with or without flowers in their hair.

The footballers that I and my pals at school were most avidly collecting bubblegum stamp cards for were of guys that looked like Georgie…and Peter. Bobby Charlton and his generation were definitely ‘square’. A ‘Peter Cormack’ could be worth up to five ‘Alex Stepney’s’ on he bubblegum card black market!

Peter had a very good time of things at Nottingham Forest’s City Ground by the banks of the River Trent. Although toiling in a poor and degenerating Forest side, years away yet from the new messiah Clough and just after an, at their best Joe Baker and Ian Storey-Moore – both golden boys to the Forest faithful, Peter played in midfield and scored creditably from that position for two seasons. He also added to his final tally of nine full caps in the dark blue of Scotland.

The point that most of the local media and supporters picked up upon was the fact that many of those goals had been headers. Perhaps at first glance (no pun intended) this might have seemed unusual. Certainly Peter though by no means being a small man was certainly no towering giant in the penalty box either. His height alone was not the reason for his menacing ability in the air, but rather his perfect timing. Peter was one of those players that could put his head in where it mattered first. His exquisite timing also dictated that in a melee of players going up for a high ball in the box, his would be the one that appeared to ‘hang’ there in the air – often being at the peak of his leap, with his head on the ball when other lesser players were already on the way down to earth. At odd times in history these unusual players have identified themselves to the public eye but very rarely so.

Other Hibs friends have told me just what a good goalkeeper Peter was ironically. The same talent and technique that gave him great jumping ability he could also use in the goalies shirt. One Hibby whose opinion I respect greatly is of the opinion that if Peter hadn’t become an International outfield player, he certainly would have been capped as a goalkeeper.

Peter was neither a one-trick pony of a player either. His graceful play, passing ability and nimble footwork were a joy to watch. He had an array of crowd-pleasing tricks on the ball too. I have heard people say he wasn’t notable for his tackling ability but I’ve never necessarily subscribed to that notion having seen him dig in during midfield battles well.

Of course whilst showcasing all this talent it became quickly impossible for Peter’s situation to remain the same. Bill Shankly at Liverpool had noticed the young Scot’s sparkling displays and wanted him as the last part of the jigsaw at Anfield. Peter was introduced to the Liverpool team after an, expensive for that time, fee of £110,000 and furthered a very successful career on Merseyside. for five seasons before being transferred to Bristol City. Similarly it has been my experience to note that those fans of Liverpool FC that ever saw him play, like those of Hibs and Forest have only very fond memories of his captivating style of play. A cursory check though any Liverpool website will confirm that.

Liver Pete
Cormack in the Liverpool jersey

When I sometimes see the all-too-few pictures of, and information about Peter Cormack, in books and on the Internet I have to say I often wonder why others at times are more spoken of. Perhaps it’s simply that his years at Hibs were not more extensive. This however could be quoted in the case of Joe Baker and many other great and very good players at Easter Road. Those that do talk about him however usually glow about his skill and style – the way he played. Peter Barr Cormack’s way was the Hibernian way.

Stu

Tick-Tock - Hibs Still in the Dock?

So midnight 31.1.06 strikes and the transfer deadline comes to a close – it’s time to ask ‘how do you feel about Hibs' lack of activity save for the Dalglish/Morrow swap?’

Are we supposed to feel satisfied that after trading, Derek Riordan is still a Hibs player, yet no other significant strengthening of the side has occurred?

Hibs' have many and varied strengths in this young team, they also have real and obvious weaknesses. These are weaknesses that the rank and file supporter sees from the seats most every game. They're well documented and have been for an arduous length of time now – not just the duration of the now departed transfer window.

I'm sure there has been some activity in trying to bring a central defender (or two) in but I have to admit I'm left totally deflated that this problem has not been dealt with. Another personal view here, and I know that some obviously don't share it but I'm not happy with the goalkeepers either. The manager cannot seem to decide which goalie is his number one. In some circumstances one might offer that having two men vying for the position would create strong performances yet this has yet to be seen even remotely consistently. There are very few shades of some of the commanding figures Hibs have fielded between the sticks in the past – often of a more mature and experienced nature. (That’s a hint by the way).

Pensive. Has Tony Mowbray been
active enough in the transfer market?

If the central defender conundrum was a new one I could almost understand it but this has been a recognised problem for a considerable time now. Hibs' got out of a jail once with Gary Smith having something of an Indian summer when he returned unexpectedly from injury a little while back. With no disrespect at all intended towards Gary who remains a fine professional, this could only ever be viewed as a stopgap solution...or so we thought.

Maybe what should be considered is how to restart Humphrey Rudge’s Hibernian career. Whilst being no Beckenbauer, Rudge impressed many with his no-nonsense displays when given the opportunity. He could be just what the team needs right now. What is it that Tony Mowbray doesn’t get about him? I really would love to know the answer to that one. I guess, like others I’ll have to offer due deference to our manager, after all he played the very same position at a high level for many a winter, one would assume he knows his way around a central defender. What is it that we as fans see differently though?

Good centre backs don't grow on trees on our rates of pay one assumes but surely, somewhere there is the inspirational experienced figure or two out there - a character or two who could galvanise and put a little self-belief back into our young team, particularly down the spine of the side? Yes central defence seems a real problem considering some of the Keystone Cop defending at times but it should also be remembered that many fans – me included - have asked about an experienced go-to guy in the middle of the park – someone of a Paul Lambert type midfielder. There really needs to be a player who makes himself available for the ball, plays the simple pass and organises and binds the team together. A player like this is sorely needed in my view – especially when young heads drop as perhaps exemplified by last Saturday’s derby fixture. If they find such a man he can be our new captain.

Funnily enough I don't really cast envious eyes over at Tynecastle and their ridiculous eleven signings. That's for the birds. They’ll plough their very own and different furrow. I would however like to have seen a little excitement, hope and interest created for the supporters in what is bound to be a very tough and long run-in for the team. I don't wish to be pessimistic but unless something is done quickly to shake things up a little this season looks bound for a flat finish and little to play for.

I sincerely hope my instincts and slight pessimism are proven wrong.

Stu

(From Mass Hibsteria, Thursday, 02 February 2006)

Hibs and Hearts United

Sometimes fate can play the strangest of hands. Today was to be a fairly normal Thursday for me, the only difference was that I wasn’t to be working today but rather had suggested a walk with a friend through some of the villages by the River Trent here in Nottinghamshire.

What has that to do with the leading lights of Edinburgh football you might ask? Bear with me as all shall soon become apparent.

During the country walk, as is the custom on these occasions, there was need for a libation. Not by good fortune but by good planning, a beautiful old public house named ‘The Reindeer’ at Hoveringham village had been planned at a point through the amble in order to fulfil this most welcome of desires.

Hoveringham, Notts

As I made my way into the ancient bar and met the blazing log fire, a senior couple asked where the lounge might be. I directed them through to the cosy little bar, complete with original beams and extensive view out to a midwintered cricket pitch aloof in its frigid silence and bereft of the summer sounds of willow on leather. Thinking little about the brief encounter I sat with my walking friend and chatted over a couple of pints of excellent Czech lager – perhaps not strictly in keeping with this old English environment, but certainly one modernisation that sat well with my sensibilities.

It was not until donning our warm winter coats to hit that first blast of winter fresh, air laced with the most welcome yet unseasonable bright sunshine outside, that the few words spoken to the gentleman earlier took another fascinating turn. Leaving The Reindeer Inn, I noted on a small table by the doorway, a single copy of that days edition of The Nottingham Evening Post. The ‘Post’ was inverted with its back sports page with a ‘screamer’ headline reading:

“AT LAST! A WORLD CUP CAP FOR REDS HERO IMLACH!”

The headline referred to FA Cup winner’s medal holder, the late Stewart Imlach, Forest’s Scottish international left winger from the 1950s’. ‘Stew’ had a very distinguished career on the wing for the Nottingham club – so much so that he was selected to represent his home country, Scotland in the 1958 World Cup in Sweden.

Mass Hibsteria has for some time now known about the unjust situation where Stewart and many other former Scotland internationalists were not awarded caps for their country as up until 1975 they were only handed out to players who appeared in matches versus the home countries. Of that number it should be immediately pointed out that our own great inside-forward and later manager, Eddie Turnbull was one of those to end his career cap-less, even though appearing some nine times for his country in what  was a much less busy international calendar at the time.

Watch and listen to the story of Stewart Imlach
– The man known as “The Rabbit” by the Nottingham Forest faithful
due to his dazzling speed,

Scotland Today, article and video

Knowing that my friend – a lifelong Nottingham Forest supporter would be interested in the story as I was, I pointed out the story to him. We had talked about the anomaly of the cap situation previously and at that time he had told me of his times watching Imlach’s memorable days patrolling the left wing berth for the ‘Reds’.

Looking over the happy news of Stewart’s and the rest’s soon-to-be awarded caps, there came a soft voice with a hint of an accent I know so well from behind us. “Do you remember him?” asked the gentleman I had spoken to earlier on the way in. “I don’t but my friend does, I’m very aware of the story though” I replied. I indicated to him that here in this gentle and quiet spot of rural Nottinghamshire – a most unlikely spot perhaps, he was speaking to a life-long Hibs supporter and that the website I visit and contribute to had alerted the campaign for Stewart Imlach et al’s caps to be awarded.

The Famous Five
Smith, Johnstone, Reilly, Turnbull and Ormond.
Rolls off the tongue doesn’t it?

We all are able to wax lyrical about our own team’s heroes. I’m no different when I get to thinking about Joe Baker, Peter Cormack and other personal Hibs idols of mine from the past. There is something different however when you see an old-time opposition supporter glowing about the days when he used to watch your team.

As he spoke the years rolled away as if they never happened. My new acquaintance Norman, “call me Norrie”, told tale of the Gay Gordon and his dashing, cavalier wing-play. “Make no mistake – there was no one like him”. Norrie went on about how the five forwards would interchange and how nobody had seen this before. He told of how Gordon would run across the pitch to the opposite flank and the whole forward line would shuffle one position across to accommodate his brilliance in another area of the field.

Something I had forgotten about was Gordon Smith’s innovatory ways for the time. Norrie explained that if the surface of the pitch didn’t suit his footwear, the great man would change into a pair of baseball boots at half-time, so that he may continue to display his dazzling footwork.

Gordon in relaxed mood on the sands
in his favoured East Lothian

Norrie loved watching The Famous Five. He explained that his own team were good enough but relatively uninteresting compared to the space-age football on display at Easter Road in that era. No shame on Heart of Midlothian this as surely Hibernian in full flow must have been some spectacle in those days.

It was time to go, the wind was blowing its chilly February blast outside The Reindeer, but my heart was hugely warmed by this man. He made me understand and realise once again that this really is only a game. That he harkened back to a more simple time when we all understood that, was not lost on me. Given a choice in thinking and talking about Bosman rulings, share issues, pre-contracts and all the rest of the modern paraphernalia of the great game or alternatively talking to a man like Norrie about Gordon Smith there is simply no contest. We parted on a warm handshake but not before we talked of our respective teams and their resurgences and were happy to agree how wonderful that was to see. “Edinburgh forever” was the feeling of the man from Haymarket and myself.

During the course of our conversation, Norrie asked me about the Mass Hibsteria website. He told me he would look out for it and pay a visit. I sincerely hope he does and I’m sure he will be assured a warm welcome.

Over to you Norrie...

Stu

(From Mass Hibsteria, Thursday 11th February 2006)

Most people reading these words will know all about the ‘Master Manager’, Brian Clough and his association with the football world in the city of Nottingham but fewer will appreciate the other ‘master’ who operated a short distance away across the River Trent in the East Midlands city, Jimmy Sirrel.

Jimmy managed the terminally less fashionable Trentside club, Notts. County for many years over two stays. Fondly remembered for taking the old club from the basement of English football through three promotions into the top-flight, Jimmy is deservedly commemorated at his old Meadow Lane stomping ground with a stand named after him. It’s fair to say that he achieved an awful lot with very modest resources – except a shrewd eye for a footballer. Jimmy was renowned for his ‘team’ ethos – rarely if ever would he single out a player for praise but rather would offer plaudits for a good team effort. Seldom would he criticise his team in the press, unlike his opposite number across the Trent who treated us to much mirth over the years with his scathing comments! Jimmy retired only a very few years ago at an advanced age being still in demand as a scout with Derby County.

A friend and I were fortunate enough to briefly meet the little Glaswegian some months ago when he left a big impression on us. So much so in fact that Barbara and I had made an issue about our meeting him again some time. Many a Friday morning we’d meet up for a country walk hoping to bump into him in the same place afterwards for a more prolonged chat at the same pub. It became a bit of an in-joke joke actually as every week we wondered if it would be ‘the week’ when we finally saw him again. Barbara even began writing a book for her creative writing classes and called it ‘Looking for Jimmy Sirrel’.

As we came to the end our latest riverside walk on a Friday lunchtime we headed for the familiar Cross Keys pub in the pretty village of Burton Joyce in Nottinghamshire and there he finally was - sitting alone having a quiet drink out in the sunshine. We greeted him and he smiled warmly while asking us to join him. The first thing we did of course was have that long-awaited photograph call with him.

Jimmy still retains an impish sense of humour and keen knowledge of the game though now an impressive slim and sturdy eighty-four years old. When one talks to him he comes across very much as a working class man and in particular a football man – one with the game running strongly in his blood even still. Barbara commented afterwards that the Scottish link between he and I helped the conversation along too! What followed left me feeling quite honoured that I’d been able to spend some quality time with this man.

I began talking to him about a recent interview he’d participated in for a local magazine and I dared to venture that he saw football as very much a simple game? His answer was hardly the one I’d expected as he maintained that it was ‘far more complicated than that’ and how on earth would players come to be internationals if it was such a simple matter! I asked him what it was he looked for in a player when he was scouting for new blood for his teams. What followed was a story using Gordon Strachan as an example, and how he had trailed him for Notts County whilst the young midfielder was playing for Dundee. The game he attended was at Queen of the South I believe he said. It was a miserable, wet night for a game of football and according to Jimmy; wee Gordon just wasn’t interested and shirked out of the game. Singularly still unimpressed, Jimmy labelled his performance a ‘cheat’ and still has little respect for him it seems. He further maintained that Strachan would only play well on one the side of the pitch at Old Trafford – the side where the Man Utd support largely was!

Jimmy played on the right wing for Celtic in the days leading up to the Famous Five during the 1940s’. He did say what a wonderful and flowing forward line they were, so good to watch. He mentioned his direct opponent, Hibs left back of the time as being a right hard little ****er! A friend’s research tells me that this opponent was probably Hugh Howie who gave service to the Leith club for several seasons.

During the conversation Jimmy had mentioned his friend ‘Alex’, and that this friend was away in Europe at the moment but that he was hoping to see him soon for their traditional annual break in Malta. Barbara and I imagined that ‘Alex’ was some guy from the pub until things became clearer. ‘Alex’ was actually Jimmy’s long-time friend, Alex Ferguson. When asked how they had got to know each other he said it was through the old Anglo-Scottish competition when Ferguson was St. Mirren boss and Jimmy was at Notts. To this day after all those years the two Scots have remained close friends

.

We next chatted about some of the players he had handled and the subject of former Scottish internationalist, Don Masson came up at my instigation – one of my favourite players and Jimmy’s long-time captain at Notts. I said I’d heard what a difficult character he could be and Jimmy said that he was always agreeable with him but that some times he had to pull ‘The Don’ up about the way he spoke to other players. Masson – never a man to suffer fools gladly would apparently become very frustrated that his teammates couldn’t live up to his own extremely high standards. Jimmy also related an amusing tale about when Masson was transferred to QPR just before his international career began.

Apparently Jimmy and Don travelled down on the train to London for transfer talks. Jimmy told his player to, on no account sign a deal as he could get him more money elsewhere. Masson met Jim Gregory the infamous QPR chairman and immediately came out of Gregory’s office having signed a deal to play for the London club! Jimmy was aghast. A couple of days later Tommy Docherty, then Man Utd boss, was on the phone to Jimmy saying ‘what the **** are you doing to me?’ Apparently ‘The Doc and Jimmy had set up a deal for Masson to run the midfield for Manchester United…

Being a man from a different generation reared its head a time or two. Jimmy talked fondly of his now deceased former player Pedro Richards – a fine defender for Notts County. Jimmy added that he had a couple of black players in his team and used a term that whilst not as offensive as some we hear nowadays would nevertheless still be unsuitable today. There was no malice intended. I firmly believe the only thing that would have been on Jimmy Sirrel’s mind was ‘can they play football?’ He told me how much he loved those two lads too and how he missed Pedro.

There were other more comical tales from Meadow Lane and Bramall Lane where he managed Sheffield United for a time. Jimmy mentioned that he would peer through his office window and watch the players troop in for training in the morning and sometimes have to take one aside for a dressing down for some misdemeanour or other. He claimed that more than once he threw a player against his office wall for messing him around, one even turning into a full-blown fight! He then complained about players wives who he said caused him more bother than most players! His example was on selling Sheffield Utd’s top player to Leeds one time. I believe this may possibly have been striker, Brian Deane. He mentioned the pressure from the chairman to find some cash and that the player was the only one that was worth anything to sell. Apparently the player’s wife was straight on the phone asking what the hell was going on with her husband however and giving Jimmy hell!

Still on the subject of Notts he talked fondly of the club’s trips abroad in the close season during the 1970s’. One in particular to Gibraltar where he was assigned pocket money by the Notts chairman to hand out to the players if they ‘showed good behaviour’! Still on Notts he turned to the subject of goalkeepers – the ‘most important man in the team’ according to Jimmy. On one occasion he toured Europe for two full weeks before finally ringing back to Notts. Chairman Jack Dunnet saying that he had found ‘a goalie who would keep them in the Second Division’. The player was Raddy Avramovic who cost Notts £200,000 – big money for Notts in those days. Raddy and his family stayed at Jimmy’s house at first until they bought a home of their own. At the beginning of the goalie’s career at Notts there was a social function at which Raddy went around and bought all his new teammates a drink as a friendly gesture. A local Evening Post reporter who followed Notts around saw this and wrote a piece about Raddy being a ‘boozer’ and a ‘big-time-Charlie’. The next time that same reporter went to Meadow Lane, Jimmy physically had hold of him and had him thrown off the premises and further banned from the ground. The Evening Post had to give the reporter the Forest job whilst the City Ground reporter switched over to Notts!

Revisiting Jimmy’s youth in the 1930’s and 1940s’ proved a fascinating conversation. We talked of the razor gangs and ‘malky’s’ in Glasgow of that time and in particular his own area of Bridgeton. He said that he could never see any point in getting mixed up in that business and stayed well clear of the religious problems in the city as a young man. He did mention almost getting a ‘chib’ at a dance hall one night whereupon he decided on finding another more suitable establishment for his evening’s entertainment!

Jimmy went to sea in the war years and came back to begin his professional football career. He was actually offered contracts by Celtic, Rangers and Arsenal. He told of his train journey to London with his wife to visit Herbert Chapman the legendary manager of Arsenal. ‘I didn’t like it there much and I told him so’ said Jimmy! He was straight back on the train and signed for Celtic in the first instance.

Pausing for a moment, the great man insisted he brought us a couple of pictures to view that he happened to have in his car. Most striking was the one of him and a very young Brian Clough, Derby manager at that time, standing in a group shot at a charity function. Brian had on a very fetching pair of slacks of the time. He mentioned how much he liked his adversary across the river, how got on with him really well and now missed him. It struck me that it would have been most unlikely for these two men not to get along, their integrity working-class common sense and common, shared values would not have allowed for that.

We broached the modern game and Jimmy had some amusing insights to offer. He claimed that the sight of managers prancing about on the sidelines shouting to players on the pitch was a load of contrived nonsense for the sake of the TV cameras (only he didn’t say ‘contrived nonsense’!) He claimed that when out there, probably the only player he might be able to make himself heard to was his near-side winger - if he was lucky. He added that he thought many modern-day managers were just ‘actors’, with ill-disguised scorn at their antics.

Towards the end of our conversation which lasted fully two hours we got talking about the great Scottish wing half, Dave Mackay who also lives locally and who Jimmy had known for many years. I ventured he was one of the very greatest men to wear our proud Dark Blue of Scotland. (I had to keep remembering when talking about football that I know nothing really whilst this man knew the game inside out!) Jimmy agreed that ‘David’ was a great player but also a ‘vicious bastard’!

I popped into the pub before we said our goodbyes to Jimmy. There was another familiar-sounding Scottish accent greeting me in there ‘lovely day out there eh’… Yes it was Dave Mackay! What a surreal moment.

The final thought I had about this conversation was of how Jimmy saw footballers. It perhaps IS a simple game in some respects. According to him ‘all you need for a good team is the best players’ – it’s as simple as that. If he could afford a player who was better in a certain position on his team than the one he already had he said then he would go and get him. He thought little of 4-4-2, 3-5-2 and all. All you need is the best players. I came away from this lovely afternoon understanding that I had just been blessed with the company of one of its best managers. A private audience with one of the men I admire most in football. Now that memory will live with me forever.

The legend - Jimmy Sirrel.