John Greig: For What it's Worth.

Last updated : 17 October 2011 By The Gub

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again

American Pie, Don McLean

Had a conversation of sorts with a big mucker of mine heading off to Ibrox on Saturday. The issue of my memory came into the equation. The bottom line is, this football club of ours is woven into the very fabric of my life.

I remember such and such’s birthday because we played so and so on that day and won. I remember my great niece by marriage’s entrance into the world because we beat Hearts 2-0 at Tynecastle that same day. Oh, and it was Dec 2nd '95, and a certain Paul Gascoigne played a big part in that victory.

Even thinking of that occasion back then is full of irony given Gazza’s half time appearance on Saturday just there and where do we visit next weekend? I won’t be the only one but a song can hold very vibrant memories for each and every one of us. For good or for bad, I just happen to sugar coat my memories with Rangers. However, I do not think for a moment I’m a one off sort of basket case.

Incidentally, that niece by marriage - well, her mother was born 24/5/72, and no, daddy was not at the birth. For some strange reason he was off to the Costa Brava for a couple of days that midweek.

So where are we going with this present scribble? Well, just at lunchtime there I noticed on the front page of one of the rags, that John Greig has quit Rangers. Now I haven’t been on the boards at time of writing. But as far as I’m led to believe, ‘Alfred H’ has left the building as well. So with my limited knowledge of events I have to wonder if John Greig was pushed or did he do the honourable thing himself?

Which leads me to the lyrics from American Pie at the top of the page: I was born in 1961 and I do believe I was of a generation of Rangers supporters ‘lost in space.’

The fact is, every one of us born in the early 60s, soiled our first nappies in what was a prosperous and magical time to be a bear. The names of the team back then half a century ago still trip off the tongue and should not require me to go through it all again.

However, we were weans, so when it came to our chance to go to football on a regular basis (we are now into the late 1960s here) - and were old enough to comprehend why beating x = XTC? - the old order for that period had changed and we, Rangers, and that support coming up through the ranks were very much on the receiving end.

That’s where John Greig strode centre stage, and hence a wee bit of sadness on my part today. For all of us kids back then - the late sixties and well into the 70s - John Greig was, on the field of play at least, the man who personified Rangers FC.

Then there’s the music angle and Rangers again. If ever there was a song that sums up a footballer, then that song was to be found on the ‘Medley’ on Abbey Road! “Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time.” And so John Greig did.

The memories of John Greig; just where do you start? Well, he burst onto the scene, but not in a shy way. Russia, in the close season of 62 and taking Baxter’s place (ahem).

The boyhood mantra:  ‘John Greig’s tails, never fails.’ A penalty at Ibrox v the Yahoos Ne’erday 69: That were a good un’. A penalty blazed over the bar versus Bilbao two months later.

Of John Greig, being injured for the 70 League Cup final, I mean that was it, our captain out, curtains for us, for sure. Then there was the Scottish Cup semi final replay v Hibs the following season (We did miss his influence that night mind you).

Then there was the beard!
A few years later there was a chariot.

The abiding memory of the Rangers team going back to their places for kick off after we had brought a goal back in the 76 Scottish Cup semi v Motherwell and John Greig exhorting the Rangers end to start pumping up the volume, which did have the desired effect.

Then there is his goal tally itself. One hundred and twenty goals for a defensive midfielder/half back cum full back is a phenomenal haul. Then there is the fact that he is the only man in Scottish football history to have been a part of THREE treble winning sides.

It is pretty ironic too, that he was in possession of the ball when the final whistle sounded on what was to be his last league game for the club. A league title had been clinched of course, but we didn’t know what was to lie around the corner.

There is no point in dwelling on the managerial years. Was he ever the right man for the job? We don’t know and never will. What we do know is that he was never able to replace himself on the park, but that was never going to happen anyway.

So, he left and then came back circa 1990 in the feel good times that characterised the club in the Souness/early Murray days.

A wee argument that I used to have with ‘The Major’ back then was that John Greig was not up to the job as a PR chief. TM’s retort was always the same, John Greig didn’t have the background, or skills to be a head of PR at such an important institution as RFC and thus should not be judged by that criteria.

Wise counsel, I’ll admit, but it did prove one thing, to wit: Murray was already selling us woefully short, even in the honeymoon period. Just give those saps out there the old oil and not what is required.

So anyway, back to this present and somewhat sad day. John Greig has been virtually a constant through my Rangers supporting life. I could be wrong and I await the corrections, but I make it John Greig made his debut at Ibrox on September, 2nd, 1961. He even chipped in with the first goal in a League Cup sectional tie v Airdrie.

There can be few half century (almost) love affairs between the club and one single individual that will have meant so much to the ordinary supporter.

On this day of all days I will think only of the good regarding John Greig. The sadder, lesser stuff is for other less important days.

The Gub


Memories, may be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So, it's the laughter we will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were.