Interview: Derek Riordan - 'I try to help the younger lads. They just tell me to eff off though'

Published on Friday 25 December 2009 17:54

THE snow has arrived too late at Hibs' training complex in East Lothian to be captured on an official Christmas card. And if the club really are serious about recreating the video for Wham's Last Christmas then surely they could have picked two less macho members of staff rather than the growling manager – "Stacky's just got me with a snowbaw!" – and the most tattooed player. But while John Hughes stomps off in search of Graham Stack, Derek Riordan is for once in the clear.

Then again Deek, the hotshot with what the small, funny papers love to call the "bad boy" reputation, says he's got quite used to sitting quietly on his own in front of a TV, which is how I find him. A nightclub ban curbing his preferred method of relaxing and unwinding, post-match, has just been extended to ten years. He's not happy about that but can at least see the funny side and stay upbeat. "I hope this doesn't go on and on, although at Hibs we're kind of used to things going on and on," he says. "Maybe we could do a swap: the ban on us winning the Scottish Cup gets lifted if I do my time. That would be all right, eh?"

Upbeat is Hibs' current demeanour. The 12 days of Christmas are coinciding with a 12-game unbeaten run. The Leith team are third in the SPL, scoring goals, keeping them out too, and Riordan has hit some crackers from a position in the line-up that Hughes has subtly modified in an effort to get the maximize the player's game-changing moments of casual brilliance with either foot. They're just one point behind Celtic and tomorrow at Easter Road they have the chance to impress further in a high noon televised match against leaders and champions Rangers.

Still wearing his training kit, Riordan says he can't wait. "You look forward to the big matches, especially at home and especially if you're playing well." And especially if a Ranger who was once a Hibby, Kevin Thomson, is predicting the usual sizeable gap between the Old Firm and the rest come next May? "Aye, that was a bit annoying. Though to be fair that's how the league usually goes. But this season? We'll see … "

Doesn't it bother him, playing so close to Christmas? "No, that's what footballers have to do. One year Hibs got given a Boxing Day game way up at Inverness. Murder, like. I have to say I was happy when they got relegated."

Christmas Day for Riordan, 26, would have been along the usual lines. "I go and see my nana, then it's down to my mum's. My wee brother will be there, plus my stepdad and other family. Not having kids of my own, I'm pretty boring at Christmas, a bit of a Scrooge. Not mean with presents, like, but I just have something to eat and then go back home and chill oot and leave everyone to it. They always get drunk."

As a boy, Hibs-daft Riordan remembers the year there was a junior version of the purple away strip with his name on it under the tree. He's not sure, but he thinks he wore it all day and to bed. So what was he hoping for yesterday? "I told my mum I didn't need anything. I've just bought myself a new Xbox, you see. The old one broke. That's kind of what I do most nights now, play Tour of Duty."

Like many a bonnie talent from outwith Glasgow, Riordan was called up for a tour of duty with the Old Firm. His unhappy spell at Celtic has been well documented, also his frustrations and fall-out with Gordon Strachan who acclaimed him the best natural finisher at the club but rarely put him in the team. Still, he says a little bit more today.

"Managers are supposed to know what your game's about, aren't they? Especially if they signed you in the first place." Some wondered if Bobby Williamson was even acquainted with Riordan when, first time round at Hibs, the player was lined up for a move to Inverness in return for Bobby Mann – and, even though it sounds incredible now, Steven Whittaker was included in the swap deal. "That's football for you," he says. "Funny game. Bloody hilarious at times." He isn't laughing, though. "But that one would never have happened." Not Inverness; that's almost abroad.

Back to the subject of Celtic, then, albeit briefly. "I thought I was good enough to play for them but I didn't get enough chances. I liked being at the club, the supporters were great. Even the Rangers supporters I met were great and they told me I should have signed for them. But Celtic's in the past. Move on..."

For a moment, I think he's about to launch into a version the Renton valedictory rap from Trainspotting. When Tony Mowbray replaced Williamson, Hibs were full of cool, cocky, undernourished skelfs like the movie's central characters, with Riordan boasting the most outrageous haircut and the most gallus skills. Now the barnet is sensible; you might even call it spammy. And he reckons he's changed in more meaningful ways, too.

"Despite what you might read, I think I've grown up. That nightclub ban is just nasty. I admit I told a doorman to p*** off. Not clever, but he'd probably heard that before. And when I tried to get into a different club later I really thought the ban was up. I'm high-profile for this scheme covering all the different premises (Unight] and they're just making an example of me. It's hardly like I've killed someone."

He reckons he's matured as a player as well and says: "I was too young to go abroad when some foreign clubs were interested in me. Big Gaz (Garry O'Connor] ended up going to Spartak Moscow but he had his bird and a wee yin – I only had the dug." This is Bruce, the faithful British Bulldog, still a big part of his life, and currently recovering from a bout of eczema which has shorn it of the hair on its head. Like master, like dug.

"Football-wise I know I'm working harder," adds Riordan. Recently there have been remarkable reports of him clearing the ball from his own goalmouth, and of running so hard he developed cramp, and mention of them prompts the hint of a gap-toothed grin. "When I was more of a striker some folk used to think I was lazy."

Ah, tracking back. To track or not to track first became an ideological issue for Riordan under Mowbray, although in a team that sometimes played "funny formations" he regarded himself as a left-winger. "Now I'm left midfield and I'd say I understand the role better than before."

Tomorrow Kris Boyd may be lining up against him. If Riordan was to form a support group for dead-eyed goalscorers misunderstood on perspiration, then the Ibrox enigma would be an obvious choice for vice-chairman. What does he think of Boyd? "Oh I like Boydy, he's a nice big guy – a funny laddie, like." In what way? "He's stupid! As thick as … But I never understand the Rangers fans who moan about him because he gets them so many goals. You watch how many headers he scores without looking like he's jumping. That's brilliant positioning and brilliant timing. Aye and brilliant shirt-tugging, too."

So what of Hibs, second time around, and what of Hughes? "Brilliant, just great. Some fans, the hardcore boys, maybe weren't happy I left but hopefully they've accepted me back because I think I'm playing pretty good – good enough to get back in the Scotland squad, which I'm happy about. Aye it's fantastic being back here. I'm one of the more experienced players this time and I try to help the younger lads. They just tell me to eff off, though – like I did when I was their age.

"And Yogi's different class. He's kind of one of us. Definitely the funniest manager I've had." Who's been the one lacking in the humour department? "Dinnae ask." So what was Hughes' reaction when Riordan tripped over Bruce and had to stay on the bench for the start of the season's first Edinburgh derby? "I couldn't have told him or he'd have slagged me rotten, so I phoned the physio." The other weekend, Hughes banned the team from spreading their Christmas party over two nights and it ended up being scrapped – surely evidence, despite all the joking and all the snowball fights, of serious intent.

Riordan returns to an earlier theme. "If you're a manager you should be able to see that's everyone's different. Some players are just big strong guys who cannae kick a ball. I'd say I wasn't that. I'd say I was a footballer. Mind you, the gaffer and me can still fall out." When was the last time? "Last Saturday at Aberdeen. He was screaming at me to get into position. I just told him: 'Beat it'."

Best goal? "My first-ever against Hearts (Easter Road, SPL, 2004], a 30-yarder into the faraway top corner. Mind you, I've hit a few good ones against the Jambos." Best defender he's come up against? "Big Lorenzo Amoruso, he was really decent." Best moan when a team-mate didn't anticipate his deft reverse ball, or failed to pass to him when he'd skulked into a threatening area? "Ha ha, well everybody knows I'm the biggest moaner. I fling the dummy out the pram. Stokesy (Anthony Stokes] is getting it big time from me at the moment. As soon as he's got the ball, he's away. He's shocking at passing, absolutely shocking."

There's a refreshing lack of sentimentality about Riordan. Yes, Stokes is scoring goals but as an out-and-out striker, so he should. Yes, Boyd is scoring goals, but with all the chances Rangers create, so he should. Others have chose to put a positive spin on Kevin Thomson's dismissal of Hibs' chances; he's irritated by it. There's no false modesty in Riordan and nor does he resort to the anodyne; only one "to be fair" in the entire conversation. Some players really cannae kick a ball, at least not as well as him, given that he utilises both skinny feet, a talent he developed by himself aged ten: "I'd deliberately go round the keeper on my left when it was my weaker side and try and tap the ball in." So is any of this arrogance? If Hibs really are going to achieve anything this season, it's a quality they'll need.

Then he shakes my hand, wishes me a merry Christmas and heads out to his car where he can listen to bangin' house tunes without risk of being ejected. "I've got unfinished business here," he says. "I was dead jealous when Hibs won the CIS Cup without me and I'd love to really do something great with them."

His motor spins out past the entrance to the snowbound farm road where the simple "HTC" sign makes the Hibernian Training Centre sound mysterious, as if it was hiding something, like secret experiments. Well, if human ears can be transplanted onto rats, maybe Derek Riordan can be persuaded to tr*ck b*ck and Hibs can win the Scottish Cup.