Rangers icon Walter Smith was a leader, manager, mentor – and diamond of a human most of all, says Bill Leckie

dh1963

Well-Known Member
WHATEVER “it” is, some people just have it while the rest of us can only dream.

Rangers icon Walter Smith was one of those people.

That aura of being the coolest guy in any room, a vibe that attracted you to him like a magnet.

Whatever he wore, he looked the part. Whatever he said, you hung on every word.

His smile had movie star charm. His growl would have made prowling lions turn and tiptoe away.

As for his ability to switch between the two? That could shake you to your shoes.

Since we woke to the awful news that he was gone, he’s been described as a leader, a manager, a coach, a mentor, an ambassador, a legend and much more.

But most of all, he was simply a diamond of a human being.

Cards on the table, he was one of the few people I’ve met in any walk of life and really wanted to be more like.

There’s a brilliant Billy Connolly quote from when he became a Sir, and someone on the BBC asked him how it felt to receive such an honour after coming from nothing.

He replied: “I didn’t come from nothing. I came from something.”

That would have resonated with Walter, born just the other side of World War Two from the Big Yin, but very much in the same surroundings; a Glasgow tenement, a grey environment, a school of hard knocks, an apprenticeship on the tools, but all the while a dream that somewhere out there lay something special.

Just as being a character doesn’t mean you HAVE character, though, very often the only ones who find that something special are the ones who HAVE something special.

There’s no doubt that Walter Smith had both, the character and the something special, in bucketloads.

As a player?

Not so much; one Scottish Cup final with Dundee United and one semi-final with Dumbarton, both lost, were as good as it got in a 280-odd-game career across 14 years.

But there’s a thread running through the history of football management that connects him to so many others whose true worth wasn’t obvious until they hung up the boots and set out the cones — Sir Alex, Jock Stein, Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Arsene Wenger, Jose Mourinho and more, all self-confessed journeymen on the pitch who became innovative, ground-breaking serial winners in the dugout.

Walter’s CV across 20 years as a boss speaks for itself: The ten league titles and 11 domestic cups with Rangers, the FA Cup win as Fergie’s No 2 at Man United, the European Cup semi alongside Jim McLean at Tannadice, that incredible run to the Uefa Cup final in his second spell at Ibrox, a stint with Scotland that dragged us 70 places up the rankings and peaked with victory over a fabulous French side at Hampden.

The man, however, rarely spoke for himself. He chose not to play on his humble background, to remind the world of how far he’d come.

He didn’t feel the need to tell anyone how good he was at his job. Nor, for that matter, was he one to play mind games or pick pointless fights.

He’d served under some of the most combustible gaffers around — Wee Jim, Fergie, Graeme Souness — and chose a different way when his own time came.

Sure, he could tear you a new one.

Like so many players and journalists of my generation, I’ve been on the receiving end when he’s taken the hump and have the scorch-marks to prove it.

Even then, I can honestly say that his bollockings had more of a positive effect than all the praise in the world from other quarters.

Plus, once it was done, it was done. He said his piece, you took your medicine and the slate was clear.

I loved that, you could respect that way of dealing with someone.

It made you envious of guys who played for him, all those guys who spent yesterday absolutely broken-hearted.

You could take all the tributes they — along with so many others from football and beyond — have offered these past 24 hours and turn them into a pretty hefty book.

Then again, you could also boil them all down into one epitaph that would fit neatly onto the plaque beneath a statue.

Walter Smith. Husband, dad, grandpa, friend. Team-mate, coach, manager, chairman.

Mentor, ambassador, legend. A physical, emotional, practical and tactical giant. The apprentice electrician who lit up millions of lives.
 
Good tribute in a long line of lovely, respectful words from all quarters today.

Saddened yet appreciate each one I've read or viewed
 
If tabloid journalists had written about football and the football world with that level of passion and honesty for the last twenty years, they may have saved their industry.

The annoying thing is they have it in them, as he has just proven. This is what we want Bill, decent writing, heartfelt analysis and a connection with your reader.

So sad it takes such an occasion to see it.
 
One thing I’ve noticed since the passing of the gaffer, is that journalists actually have the ability within them to write such great articles like this.

I wish we could get away from the pettiness that exists in football in Scotland and concentrate on the football again, hopefully this tragic moment can ignite that again.
 
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