Bonnyloyal
Well-Known Member
His phenomenal achievements will forever stand the test of time.
But, for those lucky enough to get to know him, it wasn’t what made Walter Smith such an outstanding manager which will secure his status as a true giant. Rather, it was what made him such an outstanding man.
Which is why yesterday’s profoundly sad news of his passing will have come as such a devastating, hollowing loss to so many.
And why this is the single most difficult piece I have written for the pages of the Daily Record in almost 30 years working for the newspaper.
Walter wasn’t just any other football man. At times he became something of a father figure to an often too- chirpy-for-his-own good cub reporter whose first season in the press box coincided with his first full campaign in the Rangers dugout.
Those early introductions were often truly terrifying. They came with a sense of trepidation and an acceptance that one clumsily worded or loaded question would result in an awkward silence and the inevitable glowering stare. And that was just on the good days.
He kicked me out of one pre-match press conference and, in front of a room full of sniggering peers, advised me not to bother coming back. By the time I had returned to my office, whimpering slightly through a petted lip, he had already phoned my boss to share a laugh about my punishment. ‘Tell that young boy not to worry. I just had to make an example of him in front of the others’.
In the big book of coaching, they call it: Chapter One, man management. And Walter Smith might as well have been its author.
A man of truly unique qualities, he could boot you up the a*** and take you under his wing at the same time, all the while making you feel quietly privileged for being put through the ordeal.
Over the subsequent years there were many moments and a number of specific, landmark phone calls which will never be forgotten.
His deepest regret throughout all of it was agreeing to return to Rangers as a non-executive director in 2012 after Charles Green ’s takeover. He went in with the best of intentions - to act primarily as a whistle blower on the inside - but quickly realised it was a rare error of judgment.
Green believed, by appointing a man of such stature, he would validate his own standing with the club’s supporters. He made the mistake of underestimating Smith’s love for his football club.
In fact, Green was inadvertently recruiting the man who would ultimately engineer his own downfall.
The night before emptying Green from his post as CEO, came one of those phone calls. He was calling an emergency board meeting for the following morning, before a League Two visit from Clyde that afternoon, and told me of his intentions.
He would be walking into this gun fight armed with just a single, cherished photograph. It was a grainy old picture of a young Smith with his grandad, attending a match together at Ibrox for the first ever time.
He was already rehearsing his speech: “Gentlemen, this is what Rangers Football Club means to me. For the memory of my late grandfather, I refuse to sit back and do nothing.”
Less than a week later, Green’s resignation was announced.
Within weeks Walter reluctantly took on the role as chairman out of the same sense of duty and even though he lasted only three months in the position there was still time for another one of those calls.
This time he asked for a meeting, out of plain sight, in a car park across from Ibrox.
“You know what I think of any man who carries two mobile phones?”, he asked with a stony face and raised eyebrow, before digging into his glove box and producing a second handset of his own.
It was Walter’s way of demonstrating that a bad situation was getting dangerously out of control. He asked me to contact Paul Murray and urge him to mount one last big push to seize control of the club ‘before it’s too late’.
It set in motion the chain of events which led to a reinvigorated Murray and Dave King storming into the boardroom 18 months later in May 2015. Come to think of it, this may have been one of Smith’s most important victories of all.
Late in the summer of 2018 came a call which changed everything. He calmly explained that he was beginning a battle for his life. Given that this was a man who seemed on the verge of being indestructible, his words resonated like a punch between the eyes.
Around a year later we met in person completely by chance and for the final time.
It was also without question, in the most surreal of circumstances.
Lunch with friends in a Glasgow hotel took an unexpected twist when Verve frontman Richard Ashcroft swaggered into the restaurant, hidden – albeit unconvincingly – behind a pair of oversized sunglasses and a floppy bucket hat. He had been booked to appear later that same day as a headline act at the TRNSMT festival.
Soon, another man arrived to join the entourage. He may have lacked Ashcroft’s flamboyance but, in this part of the world, he was far more easily recognisable.
‘Hey Walter, what’s the matter? Are we not rockstar enough for you anymore?’
He looked over, roared with laughter and then pulled up a seat to join us for a drink, looking like a million dollars.
Turns out he and Ashcroft shared the same agent and, after attending a concert backstage some years earlier, Walter had become a huge fan. He had only turned up on that day to apologise for not being able to attend the gig in the evening.
In so many ways that was the mark of the man. Unerringly humble, thoughtful and almost always thinking of others. A highly decorated, tactical mastermind of a football manager. A devoted husband, loving father and doting grandparent. A legend of a man
But, for those lucky enough to get to know him, it wasn’t what made Walter Smith such an outstanding manager which will secure his status as a true giant. Rather, it was what made him such an outstanding man.
Which is why yesterday’s profoundly sad news of his passing will have come as such a devastating, hollowing loss to so many.
And why this is the single most difficult piece I have written for the pages of the Daily Record in almost 30 years working for the newspaper.
Walter wasn’t just any other football man. At times he became something of a father figure to an often too- chirpy-for-his-own good cub reporter whose first season in the press box coincided with his first full campaign in the Rangers dugout.
Those early introductions were often truly terrifying. They came with a sense of trepidation and an acceptance that one clumsily worded or loaded question would result in an awkward silence and the inevitable glowering stare. And that was just on the good days.
He kicked me out of one pre-match press conference and, in front of a room full of sniggering peers, advised me not to bother coming back. By the time I had returned to my office, whimpering slightly through a petted lip, he had already phoned my boss to share a laugh about my punishment. ‘Tell that young boy not to worry. I just had to make an example of him in front of the others’.
In the big book of coaching, they call it: Chapter One, man management. And Walter Smith might as well have been its author.
A man of truly unique qualities, he could boot you up the a*** and take you under his wing at the same time, all the while making you feel quietly privileged for being put through the ordeal.
Over the subsequent years there were many moments and a number of specific, landmark phone calls which will never be forgotten.
His deepest regret throughout all of it was agreeing to return to Rangers as a non-executive director in 2012 after Charles Green ’s takeover. He went in with the best of intentions - to act primarily as a whistle blower on the inside - but quickly realised it was a rare error of judgment.
Green believed, by appointing a man of such stature, he would validate his own standing with the club’s supporters. He made the mistake of underestimating Smith’s love for his football club.
In fact, Green was inadvertently recruiting the man who would ultimately engineer his own downfall.
The night before emptying Green from his post as CEO, came one of those phone calls. He was calling an emergency board meeting for the following morning, before a League Two visit from Clyde that afternoon, and told me of his intentions.
He would be walking into this gun fight armed with just a single, cherished photograph. It was a grainy old picture of a young Smith with his grandad, attending a match together at Ibrox for the first ever time.
He was already rehearsing his speech: “Gentlemen, this is what Rangers Football Club means to me. For the memory of my late grandfather, I refuse to sit back and do nothing.”
Less than a week later, Green’s resignation was announced.
Within weeks Walter reluctantly took on the role as chairman out of the same sense of duty and even though he lasted only three months in the position there was still time for another one of those calls.
This time he asked for a meeting, out of plain sight, in a car park across from Ibrox.
“You know what I think of any man who carries two mobile phones?”, he asked with a stony face and raised eyebrow, before digging into his glove box and producing a second handset of his own.
It was Walter’s way of demonstrating that a bad situation was getting dangerously out of control. He asked me to contact Paul Murray and urge him to mount one last big push to seize control of the club ‘before it’s too late’.
It set in motion the chain of events which led to a reinvigorated Murray and Dave King storming into the boardroom 18 months later in May 2015. Come to think of it, this may have been one of Smith’s most important victories of all.
Late in the summer of 2018 came a call which changed everything. He calmly explained that he was beginning a battle for his life. Given that this was a man who seemed on the verge of being indestructible, his words resonated like a punch between the eyes.
Around a year later we met in person completely by chance and for the final time.
It was also without question, in the most surreal of circumstances.
Lunch with friends in a Glasgow hotel took an unexpected twist when Verve frontman Richard Ashcroft swaggered into the restaurant, hidden – albeit unconvincingly – behind a pair of oversized sunglasses and a floppy bucket hat. He had been booked to appear later that same day as a headline act at the TRNSMT festival.
Soon, another man arrived to join the entourage. He may have lacked Ashcroft’s flamboyance but, in this part of the world, he was far more easily recognisable.
‘Hey Walter, what’s the matter? Are we not rockstar enough for you anymore?’
He looked over, roared with laughter and then pulled up a seat to join us for a drink, looking like a million dollars.
Turns out he and Ashcroft shared the same agent and, after attending a concert backstage some years earlier, Walter had become a huge fan. He had only turned up on that day to apologise for not being able to attend the gig in the evening.
In so many ways that was the mark of the man. Unerringly humble, thoughtful and almost always thinking of others. A highly decorated, tactical mastermind of a football manager. A devoted husband, loving father and doting grandparent. A legend of a man
