One of the greatest Scottish football managers of all time is Jim McLean. He takes his place among exalted company such as Alex Ferguson, Jock Stein and Sir Matt Busby. Yet McLean never amassed piles of silverware as the aforementioned bosses did. These guys managed huge clubs where a season without a trophy is classed as failure and three consecutive defeats kickstarts a crisis. McLean spent his entire managerial career at Dundee United - an unfashionable mid-ranking club when he slid into the hot seat. Yet he kept them in the top flight for all 22 years of his reign - an achievement in itself considering the modest budget at his disposal and the cut-throat nature of the 10-club Premier League. But he did way more than that. United bagged the ultimate prize in 1983 when they became Scottish champions. They also lifted two League Cups and reached six Scottish Cup finals - agonisingly losing every one. Their exploits on the European stage were unbelievable, putting many top continental sides to the sword and finding themselves in the semi-finals of the 1984 European Cup. They went one stage further in the UEFA competition three years later but were pipped by Gothenburg. I was there. My dad and I followed the fortunes of Dunfermline at the time but so impressed was my old man by the Tannadice troops, he took me to a handful of big games involving the Tangerines. When my sister Linda - herself a lifelong Utd fan - suggested we go and see a play about the great man, I didn't need to be asked twice.
I met Linda in Kirkcaldy after work and we drove up to old Dundee, the city where I attended university in the 90s. I have retained a soft spot for the place and try and get up a few times each year. We dined in the Tail End - a chipper at the bottom of Perth Road. I had previously visited their sister restaurant in St Andrews and the Dundee operation didn't disappoint. I ordered an ale from Eden Mill Brewery (Guardbridge, Fife) with my meal which went down a treat. Curiously, I had been on a tour of this brewery prior to eating at the other Tail End. Suitably fed and watered, we headed round the corner to the Rep Theatre on Tay Square. I used to pay my rent at a property management office in this part of town but was making my first trip to the theatre. I guess seeing a play didn't feature too highly on the agenda in my early 20s! I've learned not to look back and say should have done this, could have done that. We all pursue what happens to interest us at a particular time. The place was buzzing as we made our way into the auditorium. The capacity is around 400 and the theatre has a high ceiling and steep bank of seating. We were just a few rows from the stage and there was an intimate feel about the place. In fact, I don't think the two actors used microphones. The building would have been designed to carry sound to the audience. Surprisingly, the stage was set as a building site and it later transpired this was McLean's original trade. The lights dimmed and out burst Barrie Hunter as a very shouty and sweary football manager. This is indeed a popular perception of the man, yet only one side of his character. The second cast member - played by Chris Alexander - adopted the personas of various characters but spent most time in the role of an unspecified former player, providing the foil as McLean thinks back over his long career. Philip Differ's script is fast paced and the running time was just over an hour (with no interval). There were laughs aplenty as McLean's trademark abrasiveness was used to comic effect. No attempt at sugar coating was made. Aimed squarely at the football crowd, the production received a standing ovation.
I related readily to the footballing content of the story, having read McLean's autobiography and also growing up during those glory years of the 80s. Along with Alex Ferguson's all-conquering Aberdeen side, Dundee Utd rewrote the scrip of Scottish Football, wresting power away from the Old Firm - for a while at least. This would be unthinkable nowadays due to the chasm that exists between wages at the top clubs and those somewhere in the middle. Players also had far less freedom of movement until the famous Bosman ruling of 1995, which enabled them to walk away when their contract expired. Prior to this decision by the European Court, clubs could either release an out-of-contract player (known as a free transfer) or offer him a new deal. If the terms were not accepted, the player was then termed to be in dispute with the club but - here's the rub - the individual couldn't move to a new team unless a transfer fee was agreed (or set by an independent tribunal). Looking back it seems silly that football had it's own special set of rules governing the employment of players. In any other walk of life, your bosses don't retain a hold over your future once your contracted period has come to an end. The ubiquitous presence of agents in the modern game also creates a culture where footballers are more mobile. The clubs certainly held more of the aces back in the day. Naturally, Dundee Utd couldn't hang on to all their talent (Richard Gough moved to Spurs for a huge sum in 1986) but they were incredibly well served by one-club men like David Narey, Paul Hegarty, Maurice Malpas and Paul Sturrock - all of whom played for Scotland, as did Gough. In fact the list of Utd players who received caps is a lengthy one.
The theatre displayed a maquette for a statue of McLean, due to be erected outside Tannadice Park. After more than two decades in the dugout, McLean became chairman but this ended rather ignominiously in 2000 when he assaulted a BBC journalist on camera after being asked a difficult question. McLean severed all ties with the club immediately and entered retirement. He now resides in a care home, apparently suffering from dementia. A prickly character no doubt but a genius at building a team. Clearly he couldn't buy success but seemed to have the uncanny ability to decide which journeymen players would prove effective in his set-up. And despite the rough exterior, he had no problems in getting the very best out of his men. With one notable exception. In McLean's own words: "If I had an outstanding failure then it was Ralph Milne. He should have been playing in World Cups. He should have won a bundle of Scotland international honours. It was a tragedy that boy was not playing for his country all the time. He had tremendous talent - and I failed with him. He did not have the right attitude towards the game and I could not instil that into him". Ralph Milne was an electrifying midfielder who terrorised defences and could score from almost anywhere (and with both feet!). His exquisite 25-yard chip that opened the scoring in the title-winning match against neighbours Dundee FC is a joy to behold. Yet he departed Tannadice under a cloud for a frustrating spell at Charlton (then a top league side in England). Newly-installed Manchester United boss Alex Ferguson offered Milne a lifeline at Old Trafford but it led to just a handful of appearances for the Reds. Ralph had problems with alcohol and and in his autobiography seems to blame McLean - and others - for the fact his career didn't reach stellar heights. It's a typical addict's philosophy that it's always someone else's fault. Ralph's career was over at 28 and he died from liver failure aged just 54. One of the game's great lost talents. Weirdly, I saw him in the Fisherman's Tavern, Broughty Ferry, a year before he passed away, recognising him from the photos in his book.
It's not uncommon for an unfashionable side to have a successful period but it is almost never sustained. The key players are tempted away. The unsung heroes age. McLean's true genius lay in the fact he was able to continually rebuild his squad. If a hot property had to be sold, the proceeds could be reinvested to keep the loyal club men sweet and fund the development of youngsters. It's telling that legendary manager Jock Stein hand-picked McLean as his #2 when in charge of the international side. The only time I saw McLean close up in the flesh was at a reserve game at Cowdenbeath. Star midfielder Billy McKinlay was being given a run-out, on the way back from injury and McLean paced back and forth at the rear of the stand, shouting instructions to his charges (he was probably banned from the dugout at the time). "Badger!" (McKinlay's nickname). Do this, do that. My instinctive reaction at the time was to find it slightly sad he couldn't switch off, even at a minor fixture. Another way to look at it of course is as an example of a continuing quest for perfection.
In season 83/84, Dundee United competed in the European Cup, back in the days when only national champions took part in the competition. They astonished everyone by reaching the semi-finals where they took a 2-0 lead to Italy to face Roma in the return leg. Try to imagine that in today's context. No, you can't! The match was played during the day and I remember a boy at school sneakily listening on the radio (he had cleverly threaded an earpiece inside his shirt sleeve). "Beaten 3-0" he announced as we left the classroom. The dream had died. The following season, McLean's men landed a plum tie in the UEFA Cup against the mighty Manchester Utd. An excellent 2-2 draw was recorded at Old Trafford and my dad took me to the home match. We had gone to see United host Morton the week before in order to secure a voucher which gave us priority ticket purchase for the big game. The Renfrewshire side were hammered 7-0 with Paul Sturrock notching five. Flying high! I'll never forget entering the stadium for the glamour showdown. After passing through the turnstiles, the route to the terracing was rammed with bodies. Once on the slopes, the cauldron of noise was enthralling. A crowd of 22,000. Mostly standing. The visitors took an early lead but Davie Dodds levelled right in front of us and bedlam ensued. I think I ended up five steps further down the terracing! Unfortunately, Man Utd won 3-2 on the night and progressed to the next round. But what an amazing memory.
My dad and I had another shot at glory three years later when the Tangerines lined up to take on Gothenburg in the deciding leg of the UEFA Cup final. Barcelona had been seen off in the quarters with McLean's men winning both matches (yes, you read that right) and confidence was high for the final tournament fixture at Tannadice, despite an initial 1-0 loss in Sweden. It didn't go alright on the night and United could only draw 1-1, losing the crucial first goal to a crazy counter-attacking hoof up the park. Still, that's football. John Clark found an equaliser but the Swedes triumphed on aggregate. My trio of disappointments was completed by witnessing the 1985 Scottish Cup Final - Celtic emerging 2-1 victors after United had led for most of the match. I paid the bargain sum of £1 (in cash) to gain admission through the boys gate. Double for my old man.
I suppose it was inevitable this post would stray well beyond a review of the play. But back to 2020. Linda and I had plenty of time on our hands after leaving the venue and we stuck our heads into the Phoenix Bar - a renowned Dundee alehouse. It was mobbed and I suspect the same thought had occurred to other theatregoers. We headed across the road to a sports bar and watched a bit of a European tie involving Celtic. No cask here but they at least served Belhaven Best - a useful go-to pint if no handpulls are to be seen. We reckoned the Pheonix would probably quieten down after a while and made a return visit. We grabbed a spare table and I ordered a pint of trusty Deuchars IPA. Linda had to stick to ginger beer as she had volunteered to drive. Some of this football nostalgia must have rubbed off on me at the staff five-a-side the following evening. I notched four goals and generally played well. Should have scored six though. Just like wee Jim....always grumbling.
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