Mike Aitken: Towering impact of Scots Stein, Ferguson and Monty

Published on Wednesday 29 July 2009 23:04

WHEN a university professor wrote to suggest I was fortunate to have the best job in Scotland, he must have had in mind the opportunities which arose over the past 35 years to spend time in the company of luminaries such as Jock Stein, Sir Alex Ferguson and Colin Montgomerie.

Humour, intelligence and fearless conviction are just some of the shared qualities which distinguish this triumvirate of level-headed Scots who made such a towering impact on their sports. All three, in my experience, exuded the assurance of success but none of the arrogance.

Although Jock died of a heart attack at 62 in Cardiff nearly a quarter of a century ago, I can still hear his distinctive voice echoing in my head as if the Big Man was standing in the next room. He could carry a tune, too. Perry Como's And I Love Her So was a favourite melody.

It's true by the time I succeeded John Rafferty as The Scotsman's football correspondent in 1976, Stein, the first British manager to mastermind a triumph in the European Cup, was presiding over a period of decline at Celtic Park. Kenny Dalglish would be sold to Liverpool and Fulham reserves recruited by way of replacements. Still, before he was replaced as Celtic manager by Billy McNeill in 1978, I came to know Stein a little during a couple of unsuccessful club forays into Europe.

On taking over as manager of Scotland, there was enough of a working relationship for him to answer my phone calls.

Stein was addicted to inside knowledge and knew everything about everyone in football. If Jock ever marked your card, it was as good as straight from the horse's mouth. Even better than the odd moment when he tipped you the wink (as he did before Kenny Dalglish became Liverpool manager) was the opportunity to spend time in his company and listen to this giant of the game talk football.

Stein worked closely in Edinburgh with Stewart Brown, the late football correspondent of the Evening News, during his spell as manager of Hibs. I think it helped I got on well with Stewart and earned Jock's trust almost by association. All three of us were admirers of Willie Hamilton and in the foyer of the team hotel before a Scotland international, where he was keeping a wily eye on all the comings and goings, Stein was unforgettably eloquent about the merits of the Hearts and Hibs inside-forward who died in 1976.

Chatting into the early hours of that Reykjavik hotel about the great Scottish players, Stein identified Hamilton as the best he'd seen. "People such as wee Jimmy (Johnstone] and (Jim] Baxter each had that special thing they did brilliantly," he ventured. "But Willie could do it all. He could match anyone in the game with his speed, stamina and shooting power."

Years later, one of the most satisfying assignments of my time with The Scotsman took me to Airdrie and the Hamilton family home to meet Willie's sister Marion in an attempt to set the record straight on a player Donald Ford described as a "unique visionary". Marion spoke with affection about her late brother and relished the opportunity to contest some of the half-truths which tainted the story of his remarkable life.

It was often claimed, for example, that after scoring seven goals for Hibs in a single match in Ottawa, Willie carelessly bent in half the silver salver he was given to honour the feat. Marion still has the salver and there's not a crease mark on it.

It was appropriate, of course, Alex Ferguson should be at Stein's side in the dug-out for the drawn World Cup qualifier at Ninian Park in 1985 because on that tragic evening the baton was passed from a former Lanarkshire miner to a former Clyde shipyard worker. "He was the greatest manager in British football and men like Jock live forever in the memory," Ferguson recalls.

It would be hard to overestimate the importance of Stein's influence on Ferguson's career, particularly in the early days at Love Street and Pittodrie. The football world was more of a family in that era and in Aberdeen Fergie used two rooms for his dealings with the press. One was an on-the-record official place of work; the other was a more social setting where a drink was poured and everything discussed was off-the-record.

While perhaps it's true today he might prefer a locked door for the media at Old Trafford, one of the reasons Sir Alex still has such good relations with most of his contemporaries in the Scottish sportswriting fraternity is that no-one ever broke that bond of trust.

Like all the great managers, Ferguson is a good actor and the blasts of invective he once aimed at young players (which earned him the soubriquet of 'furious') were pre-meditated. The older he became, the more he chose to rule by respect rather than fear. Even so, he always knew how to call a spade a spade. During his Aberdeen years, when four young players damaged a landlady's airing cupboard, Ferguson decided if they wanted to behave like children then he would treat them as infants and made them all recite nursery rhymes in public.

Just as Colin Montgomerie's public image is at odds with his true self, so the picture of Sir Alex which prevails in the metropolitan media doesn't come close to revealing the whole man. Blessed with a sharp west of Scotland wit, he's gallus and hard working. He loves music and reads biographies.

Fiercely loyal, good company and perceptive, Ferguson would not have spent the past 23 years managing Manchester United if he ever ducked difficult decisions. Maybe that's why he's at ease with the myth of the dour Scot, because it helps camouflage a more complex character, a passion for winning and a fearless mentality which constantly drives him on to the next challenge.

The last time we met at the Carrick at Loch Lomond last year, Ferguson was still struggling to fit golf into an unrelenting work schedule which has made him the most successful manager in the history of British football. "I'm a member at quite a few clubs," he confessed. "What's the old joke about having more clubs than Sam Snead? Well that's me, but I just don't get to play them very often." It made me think of an interview over a bowl of soup back in 1995 at The Cliff, Manchester United's old training ground. "I just don't think I'm the type who can retire," he confided that day.

Talent, as Montgomerie knows, offers no insurance against wear and tear. The golfer, who is back in action at the USPGA next week, has found little to smile about on the course in the autumn of his professional life. Never happier off it since he married Gaynor and was appointed Europe's Ryder Cup captain, Europe's talisman in the biennial match against the Americans has borne the slings of Sandy Lyle's tongue and the arrows of inconsistency with pretty good grace lately.

The wish that an easier-going frame of mind would spark an Indian summer in his career has yet to deter the merciless attack on scoring mounted by the ageing process. If any good comes out of recent trials, then the hope must be that fortitude will be added to those winning qualities of intelligence and professionalism which persuaded Europe's Tournament committee to make Monty their unanimous selection as captain at Celtic Manor.

Although there were plenty of times over the past 15 years when the soap opera which surrounds Colin occasionally threatened to overshadow his thrilling shot-making, the eight time Order of Merit winner shares with Fergie and Jock an understanding of what's newsworthy as well as a willingness to build enduring relationships, underlined by trust, with sportswriters. If this sounds like basic stuff, believe me, it's not.

Just as it was my privilege as a football writer to work with managers of the calibre of Stein and Ferguson, the opportunity to chronicle Monty's career at the summit of championship golf proved just as rewarding. All that was missing was the major success in America his talent deserved. From a Scottish perspective, the heavy iron shot on the 72nd hole which cost him the US Open at Winged Foot was every bit as cruel as Tom Watson's jabbed putt on the last at Turnberry earlier this month.

A personality as much as a performer, Colin wears his heart on his sleeve more than the two football men. Whether 'wonderful on Wednesday', as the golf writers dubbed his pre-tournament performances, or 'furious on Friday' when his game occasionally didn't match expectations, the Scot was always a story, if not the story. And, as a reporter, you can't ask for much more than that.