My Father and Jock Stein

Other than Jock Stein, Tommy Callaghan only seemed ever to have one other fan inside Celtic Park on match days: my father. He defended the prowess and effectiveness of the lanky number ten on a fortnightly basis. Abuse would be hurled at poor Tommy from all sections of the ground ‘too slow’ ‘not fit to wear the shirt’ and my father from his regular spot in the Jungle would deal with those nearest to him ‘Away ye go, big man runs his heart oot’ ‘yeez don’t know what yir talkin aboot’. And my father knew his football...

He managed his works team, Rawlplug FC up in Thornliebank. He even chose the strips they played in; the red and black stripes of the classic Man City away strip, black shorts and red and black socks. He got them promoted the first season and took them down to Essex for a five-a-side tourney. He really did put together a good, tough, well-balanced team. A skilful, hardy little outfit. He’d take me to watch them and kick a ball with me on the sidelines.

A committed socialist of the old school (as a union convener, he pre-dated Jimmy Reid in his advice for strike-day pickets not to hit the sauce the night before to ensure they were fit and vocal to greet incoming scabs), he was always the one to defend an underdog, and poor old TC certainly seemed to fit that billing. I think it was early ‘Peter-Crouch Syndrome’; he just didn’t look the part.

He did though have an impressive ally other than my dad – the great man himself didnae pick duds. Mind you, I never did work out why he signed Joe Filippi....