Search: ' Jock Stein'

How Britain’s greatest football manager was made at Aberdeen
by Michael Grant
Aurum Press, £18.99
Reviewed by Keith Davidson
From WSC 338 April 2015

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In September 1985, Aberdeen manager Alex Ferguson was among the coaching staff when Scotland played Wales at Ninian Park in a tense World Cup qualifier. He was sitting next to national team boss Jock Stein on the bench. The paths of Stein and Ferguson had crossed many times over the previous couple of decades; as a friend and mentor Stein was a huge influence on Ferguson’s professional life. When the senior man collapsed towards the end of that game, then died in the stadium’s medical room shortly afterwards, it had a profound effect. It was Ferguson who shouldered the responsibility of calling Stein’s family.

This is not the only death to feature in Michael Grant’s book on Ferguson’s formative years. His first season as manager at Aberdeen was turbulent both on the field and off. Sacked by St Mirren in May 1978, he joined the Dons, launched an unfair dismissal claim against his former employer which he lost, had disagreements with some of the established players at Pittodrie and, crucially, his father was diagnosed with lung cancer.

During a bad-tempered away game at St Mirren, of all places, in February 1979 Ferguson’s father died in a Glasgow hospital. The news was broken to him after the final whistle. At the time the Aberdeen manager was still only 37 years old. This kind of detail is the strength of Grant’s book. There is evidence of Ferguson’s pathological competitive streak, there are quotes from his former players – sometimes revealing, sometimes funny – and an inevitable warm glow for any Dons-supporting readers as domestic and European successes provide staging points in the narrative.

What Fergie Rises provides more than anything else however is an explanation of what he had learned, and endured, by the time he joined Manchester United in 1986. When the call came from Old Trafford Ferguson had more than 12 years under his belt in football management with East Stirlingshire, St Mirren and Aberdeen. He achieved his greatest successes in Scottish football by instilling the belief in the Dons players that they could beat Celtic and Rangers in Glasgow, something Grant demonstrates comprehensively. Three League titles and other domestic trophies followed. When Liverpool humbled Aberdeen in the European Cup in 1980, Ferguson made notes. In 1981, holders Ipswich Town were dumped out of the UEFA Cup. By 1983, the European Cup-Winners Cup and European Super Cup had both been secured.

For those who have a one-dimensional view of Ferguson as the red-nosed grandee of the Sky era, Grant’s stories about his pragmatism and his willingness to learn from his mistakes – even to admit them – paint a fuller picture. An argument in the wake of a Scottish Cup tie in March 1985, for example, saw striker Frank McDougall punch Ferguson to the ground. The manager was canny enough to realise that the club’s top scorer had to stay in the side irrespective; a matter of weeks later the Dons retained the League title. Long before he joined Manchester United, Ferguson knew what it took to be a winner.

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England face Costa Rica at the 2014 World Cup but they won’t be the first of the home nations to do so and would be wise to heed their neighbour’s traumatic experience, writes Archie MacGregor

Costa Rica were not supposed to be an accident waiting to happen for Scotland at the 1990 World Cup finals. After the hubris and humiliation of Argentina 78 followers of the national team had a dozen years of intensive therapy about where we stood in the global order. Never again would we take anything for granted at a major tournament.

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My autobiography
by Stevie Chalmers with Graham McColl
Headline, £19.99
Reviewed by Mark Poole
From WSC 314 April 2013

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Stevie Chalmers scored the winning goal in the 1967 European Cup final. It’s still the most important goal in Celtic’s history: the goal that liberated club football’s greatest prize from its Spanish-Italian-Portuguese stranglehold for the first time and that inspired Bill Shankly to call Jock Stein immortal.

Chalmers scored 230 other goals for Celtic – including the last hat-trick in an Old Firm derby – but his career has come to be defined solely by his tap-in (team-mate Bertie Auld’s words) against Inter in Lisbon. His autobiography does nothing to change that. The middle two chapters, one for each half of that final, are where the book comes alive and Chalmers’s detailed perspective of the match is compelling reading for Celtic fans.

There are other intriguing aspects to his life and career: he almost died from tuberculous meningitis when he was 20, he only played five times for Scotland (in spite of his clear talent and scoring against Brazil) and he had a long career at the club he supported but an uneasy relationship with its most successful manager.
His perspective on Stein is interesting but no more so than many others and, perhaps unsurprisingly for a renowned gentleman, Chalmers seems reluctant to complain directly about being overlooked or played out of position.

A lot remains unsaid, leaving readers to infer much of the story. Like many of his contemporaries, Chalmers repeatedly insists that he would always rather do what was best for the team than for himself. However, it’s clear that some managers’ and selectors’ tactics and decisions (including Stein’s) still rankle with him over 40 years later, particularly his omission from the Scotland team that beat England at Wembley in 1967.

It’s a melancholy experience to intrude upon such a successful player’s feelings of loss. Stein was a notoriously hard man to read – his players’ feelings were rarely allowed to intrude on the business of winning matches – but his choices as a manager made it clear how much he valued Chalmers. The reader is left to wonder if Chalmers realises this and also if he would seem more content now if he’d made more of a fuss back then. This glimpse into a 1960s footballer’s mind is one of the more interesting aspects of the book.

The Winning Touch could have provided more of an insight into what it was like to experience Chalmers’s terrible illness, and to recover so remarkably from it. This presence of detail but absence of insight is symptomatic of other parts of the book, perhaps evidence of the adage that consummate professionals often produce mostly pedestrian autobiographies and typical of the emotional restraint of mid-century Scotsmen.

In his playing days Chalmers made the most of the chances that came his way, so it’s surprising that parts of his autobiography seem like a missed opportunity. Although it is worth reading, at least for the insight into the day when he and ten other men from the edge of the football world shocked the game’s aristocracy.

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A biography in nine lives
by Kevin McCarra
Faber & Faber, £16.99
Reviewed by Mark Poole 
From WSC 304 June 2012

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Most club histories are too dry. Anything but the longest book can only scrape the surface of over a century in the life of an institution that means so much to so many people. Presumably that problem inspired the format of Kevin McCarra’s biography of Celtic. Choosing to structure the book around the lives of eight key men in Celtic’s history – and the relatively unheralded Flax Flaherty – lets him examine the soul of a club that he describes, in the first line of his introduction, as like no other.

It is a line that would irritate most fans of other Scottish teams, but it is one he immediately justifies in his description of the remarkable mass-migration of fans to Seville for the UEFA Cup final in 2003. McCarra is not shy to praise Celtic where he sees fit: the 1967 European Cup victory, Seville, and Fergus McCann and Martin O’Neill re-establishing the club as Rangers’ equals off and on the pitch. He is equally clear about his opinions on fans who romanticise the IRA or wallow in persecution complexes. Perhaps his absence from Scotland helps him discuss Scottish football objectively without worrying about how his opinions will be received.

The “nine lives” structure lends the book more depth than the majority of club histories, but McCarra does not let that restrict him from going beyond each of his subjects to cover other ground. The result, particularly in the early chapters, is like the pleasant reminiscences of a benevolent grandfather.

Among other things, the Jock Stein chapter is a reminder of how limited Celtic’s resources were when they won the European Cup in 1967. Has any other club ever paraded that trophy on a lorry they have borrowed from a builder? The McCann chapter reads like an extended love letter to the man who enabled Celtic to realise their potential. Great anecdotes and facts are scattered throughout.

In spite of the structure, McCarra seems to feel obliged to provide a full history of the club. This can be a slight disappointment at times, particularly in the chapter on Flaherty, the newspaper seller who was also Jock Stein’s best friend. Flaherty brought the players their papers each day and his relationship with the club was so close that he regularly accom- panied the club secretary, Irene McDonald, to pick up the players’ wages from the bank. This relationship reflects a time, particularly in Glasgow, when clubs were tied closely to their local communities. The prospect of this chapter was intriguing, but it left Flaherty behind and moved on far too soon.

The book is not perfect, but it comes far closer than most to capturing the essence of the club. As a supplementary book for those already well served with Celtic literature, it is worth a look. For those starting out on their Celtic library, it is a must-buy. Mark Poole

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The Autobiography
by Dixie Deans with Ken McNab
Birlinn, £16.99
Reviewed by Jonathan O'Brien
From WSC 300 February 2012

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It requires little brainpower to work out how John Deans, Celtic's powerhouse striker of the early 1970s, came by his nickname. But it seems even that was beyond some people. Early on in this autobiography, a well-known horseracing pundit accosts Deans at a function and slaps his back, under the impression he has just met the Evertonian Dixie Dean instead. "For me to be Dixie Dean, I would have had to be about 90," he writes. "I must look like I had a hard paper round."

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