A can-doo kind of manager

THE realists among us would be correct to assert that when Bill Shankly proclaimed that the game of football was more important than a simple matter of life or death, the great man had his tongue ever so slightly resting in the hollow of his cheek. But for the feathered flyers who reside in the pigeon loft in John Lambie’s garden, anything less than a competent performance in the eyes of their keeper can result in the culprit soaring to a heavenly doo-hut above the clouds.

Having unloaded his basket of pigeons from the team bus prior to a pre-match meal en route to Pittodrie, Lambie apparently felt compelled to dispense the ultimate sanction to one racer for a mediocre showing the previous week, and at the same time to send forth a chilling warning to his footballing charges concerning the level of exertion required to gratify the manager.

“See this one,” ranted Lambie, grasping a bemused bird by the throat. “He’s just like you, Kinnaird [Paul, enigmatic, erratic wing king]. He never does what he is told.” The bird’s neck was promptly wrung like a pair of wet Speedos, and it was a sheepish band of players who rejoined the team coach.

It was only on the journey home, after a man-of-thematch virtuoso offering from the aforementioned Kinnaird, that Lambie let slip that the deceased doo had been in possession of an incurable ailment, and an earthly exit had been hastened for its own benefit.

The methods and motivations utilised by John Lambie may not be found within a UEFA coaching manual, but the enduring successes that they have fashioned have left this Whitburn wizard highly acclaimed by contemporaries and enviously craved by club chairmen. Few, if any, commentators on the beautiful game in Scotland would fail to regard him as one of the finest purveyors of football management in our time.

In a coaching career in which he has served St Johnstone, Hibernian, Hamilton Academical (twice), Falkirk and Partick Thistle (three times) he has enhanced his reputation by winning four league titles and inflicting memorable defeats on the Old Firm.

“As a manager I’ve experienced some unbelievable highs: Hamilton knocking Rangers out of the Scottish Cup at Ibrox was a day I will never forget”, he recalls. “But for me you just can’t beat the feeling of elation that comes from winning a league championship. Knowing that you have come out on top after a season of hard work and planning is the ultimate prize.”

After nearly 20 years as a top-flight manager, Lambie could be forgiven for resting on his laurels and settling into a comfort zone somewhat below his previous standards, but he reveals with zeal: “I go into every match with the belief that my team can win. I’m a terrible loser, and I’ve been known to mope about in my doo-hut for days after a defeat. I’ve often brought my players back in on a Sunday morning after we’ve been beaten because I’ve been desperate to work out what went wrong, and begin to rectify things for the next match.”

Having worked with the Gaffer for many years, I can testify to his infectious enthusiasm for the game and his unwavering quest to elicit optimum performances from his players. Back-to-back championships with the Jags have failed to diminish Lambie’s football fervour or to deter his pursuit of soccer nirvana. John Lambie’s success story has been based on an uncanny ability to target players languishing in the nether regions of the game, and to coax and cajole a level of performance from them that other managers wouldn’t have deemed possible.

“I had the good fortune to serve my coaching apprenticeship under Eddie Turnbull at Hibs,” says Lambie. “At the time he was regarded as one of the best coaches in the world.”

As for his prowess as the Del Boy of Scottish football, the wheeling, dealing, bargain-basement operator extraordinaire credits another flamboyant managerial legend as having opened his eyes to the processes of assembling a squad of players who are adept at carrying out their designated duties: “It was working with Bertie Auld at both Hibs and Hamilton that gave me the ultimate education in the intricate mechanisms of squad balancing. I would sit in on all Bertie’s negotiations over incoming and outgoing players, and it stood me in great stead when I became a manager in my own right.”

It is Lambie’s continuing love affair with Partick Thistle that has brought him acclaim and respect in the world of football, from critics and peers alike. But this seemingly superlative relationship, with as many emotional reconciliations as experienced by Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, was founded on no better grounding than personal intuition.

“I was happily managing Hamilton when Gerry Collins, whom I had loaned to the Jags from Hamilton, mentioned my name to the Thistle directors as being ideally suited to help return the club to its former glories. I was content at Hamilton – we were well placed in the league and I was working with a great bunch of people, including the chairman, Jan Stepek. There was no good reason for me to want to leave. “I remember having been offered the Thistle job, and while I was considering the appointment, I had set out one morning to drive to Douglas Park for training as usual. Call it a hunch or a gut feeling, but I found myself changing direction mid-journey and arriving at Firhill ready to declare my intention to take over as their manager.”

Now in his third term in the Thistle manager’s chair, Lambie’s ostensibly supernatural powers are fervently worshipped by his adoring Firhill disciples, who will be eternally grateful for the Gaffer’s moment of enlightenment on an M8 carriageway.

Just as Hilary had Tensing, Nelson had Hardy, and Penelope Pitstop had the Anthill Mob, whenever Lambie has been in need of assistance from a trusted confidant, then Gerry Collins has strode purposefully into the breach. From Douglas Park to Firhill, via their turbulent tenure at Brockville, Collins has served at his mentor’s side, a lasting testimony to their mutual respect.

“I first bought Gerry as a player for Hamilton for 7,000,” says Lambie, “but I felt I could get more from him on the field, and I told him I felt he wasnae even worth 7 . . . I had Gerry in for extra training sessions on his own, sometimes at 10 o’clock on a Saturday night, but the more demanding the exercise, the greater was Gerry’s determination to execute it.”

Having refused to succumb to this physical and psychological onslaught, Collins’s display of resilience and intrinsic motivation attracted Lambie to the extent that they have been virtually inseparable since. “Gerry and I have worked well together partly because of our similarities,” believes Lambie.

“He’s no nodding dog, or a yes man who wants to please me. He’s like myself in that he is far too honest to himself not to speak his mind when he feels the need.”

But it may well be that, come the end of the season, this apparently ideal double act will be restructured into a one-man show – if Lambie confirms his conviction that he should relinquish the reins of his Maryhill Magyars.

“Since I started off in management, the pressure on managers has magnified a hundredfold,” he laments. “The fun has gone out of the game, and managers are now given very little time in which to mould teams to their own way of thinking.”

Despite these mutterings of alleged disenchantment, it is inconceivable to imagine John Lambie surviving without a daily dose of football management – that which has served as his oxygen in sustaining and giving purpose to his existence.

So don’t bet against the Red Adair of the relegation dogfight forsaking the tranquillity of the doo-hut for one more season, and opting to be ensconced behind the sandbags in the Firhill dug-out.

Alongside his trusty lieutenant, and heir apparent, Gerry Collins.

THE LAMBIE CV

1940 Born Whitburn, West Lothian.

1958 Starts with Falkirk, aged 18.

1969 Leaves after falling out with management. Willie Ormond signs him for St Johnstone: scores own-goal in debut v Dundee.

1970 Captains St Johnstone for run in Fairs Cities Cup, now UEFA Cup. Quits playing through injury.

1977 Move to Falkirk as assistant coach falls through; Eddie Turnbull signs him as the reserve-team coach at Hibernian.

1984 Joins Bertie Auld at Hamilton Academical; becomes manager. Wins First Division in 85/86.

1987 Masterminds Hamilton’s 1-0 Scottish Cup victory over Rangers, but Accies relegated. Bounce back to Premier Division following year.

1990 Joins Partick Thistle with club in First Division doldrums. Staves off relegation, and following season Jags win promotion to Premier Division. Returns briefly to Hamilton before starting second spell with Thistle.

1995 Disastrous spell at Falkirk ends in March 1996 after fan tries to run Lambie’s car off road. Works for scrap-metal merchant.

1999 Stands for election as SNP councillor in Whitburn after returning to struggling Partick Thistle, now in Second Division, for third time. Loses election, but saves Thistle from relegation.

2001 Thistle win promotion as Second Division champions.

April, 2002 Thistle’s success in winning First Division recognised in Scottish Parliament by motion congratulating Lambie, his staff, players and supporters.

MARTIN HANNAN