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Exclusive to SSP Glenrothes |
It Wisnae Me! 1948 was a great year for the United Kingdom. The NHS was founded, eh, the first Olympic Games after World War 2 were held in London, and Prince Charles – who is now the Prince of Wales - was born. What an auspicious year for me to be born. A truly glorious start for the wee boy frae Methil who was destined to become the second and some would say most memorable First Minister of Scotland. But it wasn’t easy-going growing up in post war Fife. There was school for a start. It’s well known that I was not always the most assiduous of academics in my childhood, I preferred to play football. I remember one of the teachers at my school saying to me, "McLeish, find something you’re good at, and stick to it. But first though, find something you’re good at." I took that to heart. I would be a footballer. I knew I was good enough. I remember the year the school team won the Fife Schools Cup for an unspecified year. We hammered an unspecified team ?-?, a truly unspecified score! (I was never one for numbers, amounts and details – results are the only thing that count!) I played a vital part in that game – performing unspecified heroics at left-back.
I got to know the other boys on the football team really well without ever speaking to them, which I have always found to be the most efficient way of relating to people. It was this I assume that led to my leadership skills on the field being recognised even by other teams. I remember a particularly disastrous match against another unspecified team, when we lost by at least seven goals. After the match the captain of the other team, a funny looking boy with receding grey hair and glasses, came up to me and shook my hand warmly and asked me my name, which I was proud to tell him. "Henry," he said, "We couldn’t have done it without you." I can’t recall his name – McCleshy it might have been – but I have never forgotten his words of support. The only person who has come close to that sort of generosity of spirit is the present leader of the Scottish Conservative Party - David (something) – who was a true ally when my integrity was being challenged by my enemies over the Officegate affair, to which I will return in a later chapter. My footballing skills did not go unnoticed, and I was signed up by Leeds United. The manager, Mr Blair (Wasn't it Don Revie?-Ed.) said he liked my style and wanted me to do job for him. I was sad to leave Fife, but this was the chance I had been waiting for, or so I thought. I did not adjust very well to life in England. The people talked thon funny way that English people do, eh. There were other Scottish people there as well, but they had other interests to mine. I just wanted to play the beautiful game. The lifestyle that went with it - nightclubs, fast cars, performance enhancing drugs held no attraction to me. I consider myself blessed to have played alongside some of the greats of the British game in my brief spell in Leeds, but it was never going to be my future. Even the way that goals were celebrated grated on my reserved Fifer's nature. Some players went over the top, trying to kiss each other and grope in places they shouldn't. I did not object to a bit of a cuddle, but there was definitely no fiddle. After a seven week spell that seemed like an eternity, I was back in Fife. The local team East Fife soon signed me up, stardom beckoned again. Something always seemed to get in the way, even when things were going well. January 28th 1967 was an historic day for East Fife. We beat Motherwell 1-0 away from home in the first round of the Scottish Cup. A truly great result which would have been front page in Scotland had Berwick Rangers not beaten Glasgow Rangers by the same score that day, sending shockwaves through Scottish fooball. I once met Sammy Reid who scored the winner for Berwick that day. I made the point about fate deciding that both those great results should occur on the same day. He simply put his hand on my shoulder, smiled and shook his head. The truth is, I found him to be a patronising bastard. I mean he really was, but don't tell anyone I said that. Meanwhile off the park I was creating a bit of a stir. I was aware that the terraces at Bayview were not the ideal place for people in the later years of their lives. Standing through ninety minutes of an East Fife match could be arduous even when the Methil Milan were playing well. When things were going badly though, I did not think it fair that our dedicated pensioners should suffer physically as well as mentally. In consultation with these terrific old guys (it was mainly men back then) I agreed that the board of East Fife should allow them to watch the game free of charge, and in comfort. It was the stuff of Hollywood blockbusters when Mr Brown (Shurely shome mishtake-Ed.) the treasurer of East Fife caught up with me in the dressing room after a long training session one morning. As an aside, I should mention here that I have never found early mornings a problem. I was never late for training, in fact I was frequently early, which enabled me to get in a couple of hours of sprints before the rest of the lads arrived. Anyway, back to the story. Mr Brown told me that the club just did not have enough money to put seating in for the elderly and let them into games for nothing. And so the battle was begun. It was really the first time that I had undertaken any kind of campaign, apart from the many surging strolls up the left wing, which were to become my trademark. I was confident that I could sort this out with Mr Brown, as he and I had always had a very good understanding, and I counted him as one of my closest and most loyal friends. "Let me say this," I told Mr Brown, "I’ve already promised the old folks that they can get into games for free. Are you going to do nothing about their demands and make me look stupid?" "I don’t need to make you look stupid," said Mr Brown. I was deeply encouraged by Mr Brown’s willingness to compromise on this, and it wasn’t long before a comprehensive package of measures was offered to the pensioners. Purely on the basis of my having fought for the cause so forcefully, Mr Brown was willing to reduce the entry price for pensioners by 75p. (What’s wrong with McLeish’s memory? The UK didn’t go decimal until 1972- Ed.) It was a victory for the democratic process, and I was always remembered as the man who initiated the free chairs for the elderly campaign. The campaign could not be left there though; real good had to be done. I found out that the club had devolved responsibility for the ground’s gates to the local council and some of their friends. The leader of the council was a very good friend of mine, and he agreed that he would let pensioners in for free. The next and final step was to get proper seating put in; but that cost money. I was later forced to resign from my position as left back, after it was discovered that I had arranged for other football clubs to use the pitch at Bayview – for a fee of course – and had intended to use the money to have seats installed in the terracing. It was a devastating time for me. I desperately wanted to see the day when East Fife offered free chairs for the elderly, but I had to go if only to spare my family from unnecessary press intrusion and further embarrassment. This was the end of my footballing career, but I had learned a great deal about how the world works, and it made me stronger and more determined to serve the public. I mean, what better reason could there be? Next Week: ‘How I saved the Labour Party...’ (Editor’s note: Let me have a word with Mr McLeish when he comes in next week!) |
