This side of
Heaven
Glasgow 1979
The old man took his daughter’s hand and
glanced briefly beyond the curtain at the sea of faces which seemed to float in
the darkness of the hall. ‘My, what a
crowd, who have they come to see?’ Maria held his hand and smiled, ‘You Dad! They’ve come to see you.’ He
looked at her in genuine surprise, ‘Me?
Goodness!’ The compare completed his speech and introduced the modest and
rather shy old man to the waiting audience which filled the Kelvin Hall. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the one and only…
Jimmy McGrory!’ There was a huge
roar as the old man walked onto the stage to be embraced by a tsunami of
affection. There were youngsters who never saw him play, contemporaries who did
and knew him to be the most lethal striker the British Isles had ever produced.
The old man stood basking in their affection.
They knew he loved Celtic as much as any of them and had served his club with
distinction since 1922 when a shy boy from the Garngad walked through the front
door of Celtic Park and into sporting immortality. They knew he had often been
treated poorly by Celtic during more than 50 years he served the club board.
From the shoddy episode when they tried to sell him to Arsenal against his
wishes for the then huge sum of £10,000. Of course he refused to go saying that
‘McGrory of the Arsenal didn’t have the
same ring to it as McGrory of the Celtic.’ His loyalty to Celtic was
rewarded by being disgracefully paid less than his team mates. In typical
fashion he said of that episode, ‘ Well,
it was worth it just to pull on those green and white Hoops.’ Such an
attitude may have seemed naïve but Jimmy McGrory loved Celtic and it was his
dream to play for the club.
For the thousands in the Kelvin Hall cheering
the delighted looking old man on the stage it was a chance to say thank you.
There was no golden handshake from the parsimonious Board, no testimonial match
for a man who spent a lifetime in Paradise serving his club as player, Manager
and Public Relations Officer. His retirement at 75 would be one of watching the
pennies and that will be to the everlasting shame of the Celtic Board of the
era. But all of that was far from his mind as he stood as guest of honour of
the assembled Celtic support. The Board may have treated him shabbily but they
would let him know how much he was appreciated. When the applause and cheers
subsided an old song reverberated around the hall…
‘In the war
against Rangers in the fight for the Cup
When Jimmy
McGrory put Celtic one up
We’ve done it
before and we’ll do it again,
On Erin’s
green valley’s look down in thy love,’
It was a fitting tribute to a man who made
Hampden roar with a winner against England in 1933 as 134,000 Scots looked on.
It was McGrory who scored 410 goals in 408 games for his beloved Celtic.
Despite consistently scoring throughout his career, he was capped by Scotland a
mere 7 times scoring 6 goals in the process. His old friend and opponent from the
fine Rangers side of the era, Bob McPhail, would express embarrassment at
McGrory being dropped from Scotland sides for no apparent reason, especially
when the team were due to play at Wembley. McGrory took it in his stride and
supposed the selectors had their reasons for not capping him more often. Some
muttered that it was about the team he played for rather than his ability and
in those less enlightened times they may have been right.
To see him in his later days looking a little
shrunken and frail in his suit one could be forgiven for failing to appreciate
just what a powerful athlete he was in his prime. Contemporary and former
Arsenal player Bill Patterson said of him…
"Shoulders like a young Clydesdale, neck like a
prime Aberdeen Angus and a head the nightmare of every goalkeeper. He had the
knack of connecting with his napper and directing the leather netwards with
greater velocity and judgement than many a counterpart could accomplish with
his feet."
McGrory
was called ‘The Mermaid’ due to his
heading ability but there was far more to his game than just that. Football in
the 1920s and 30s was far more physical than today. There were no substitutes
and injured players often hobbled about on the wing just to keep eleven on the
field. McGrory often had to battle brutal defenders to get his goals and had
more broken noses and black eyes than he could count in a long career. His
playing days coincided with the rise of Bill Struth’s powerful Rangers side in
the 1920s and 30s and the Celtic Board preferred to try and grow a team of youngsters to meet
this challenge rather than invest in seasoned professionals who would complement
their prolific centre-forward. McGrory’s tally of 3 league titles and 5
Scottish cup wins in 14 seasons at Celtic is testimony to the ascendancy of
Rangers and the parsimony of the Celtic Board.
As
he took the applause from the supporters gathered to honour him in the Kelvin
Hall in 1979, Jimmy knew he was among friends. These were his folk, Celtic
people honouring one of the finest Celts of all. The warmth they showed towards
him was born of that deep bond which all true Celts have. This old chap had
seen more of Celtic’s history than most of them and had said of his trip with
the side to Lisbon in 1967…
"I actually broke down in tears of joy that night,
the first time in all my years in the game that I had cried. What a thrill it
was to see young boys like Murdoch, McNeill, Johnstone, Gemmell, Clark and
Lennox coming of age. What a thrill it was to see the club I had served all my
life reach its pinnacle. My one ambition now is to live long enough to shed
some more tears into that magnificent European Cup."
That was Jimmy; a fan
above all else. A man who had spent a lifetime in Paradise and despite the ups
and downs of football, the shabby treatment by the board and the lack of ambition
the club often showed, had never lost his passion for the club he loved.
Glasgow October 1982
Old Bob McPhail
hobbled on his stick down the Ward in the Southern General Hospital. Despite
getting on in age himself he wanted to see his old friend and rival one last
time. Jimmy lay on the bed, frail and tired but unafraid. His deep religious
convictions had moulded his life and death held no fears for him. The old
Rangers man sat by the bed and held McGrory’s hand. The two old timers
exchanged quiet words and the affection between them was obvious. Few of the
nurses or visitors scurrying around the Ward would have known that the two old
men where once the greatest strikers in Scottish football. McPhail left in
tears knowing he wouldn’t see his lifelong friend again this side of heaven.
Once they had bestrode the Scottish game like the heroes they were. Once they
had fought out titanic struggles on the field wearing the green and the blue but
when the great Referee looks at his watch and is ready to call time there is
nothing to do but be glad of a life well lived, of a game well played.
Jimmy McGrory left us
on 20th October 1982 but as long as Celtic endures so too will the legend
of this splendid footballer.
When will we see his
like again?
