David McCarthy: From father to son, Lawrie Reilly's legend will live on

DAVID talks about his unforgettable meeting with the late great Lawrie Reilly and tells why he will never be forgotten.
24 Jul 2013 07:56
"I was one of five journalists who sat with him for half an hour and the man enthralled us all. He was 83 and as sharp as a tack" "I was one of five journalists who sat with him for half an hour and the man enthralled us all. He was 83 and as sharp as a tack"

IN my line of work you occasionally get to meet your heroes.

There are times you wish you hadn’t, times you wish you could have just left them up there on their pedestal because the real life persona is a million miles from the image you’ve built up in your head.

But most of the time the class they’ve shown on a sporting field is reflected on how they behave on it.

Denis Law, for example. I loved his style when I was growing up and having the chance to meet him when I was in my early 20s gave me a bigger thrill than interviewing names such as Johan Cruyff and Zinedine Zidane later in my career.

Law was brilliant. He was courteous, charming and treated me like an equal.

I didn’t ask for his autograph, though. In my game it’s not the done thing and having met Law several times since that first meeting I still haven’t.

Yet there have been times when I have ignored the unwritten rule that a journalist doesn’t ask for a signature.

Kelly Holmes’s name is scrawled over a picture of her crossing the finishing line at the Athens Olympics. You know the one, arms outstretched and eyes popping out of her head.

I was there the night she completed the 800m/1500m double and it was a special moment. “I don’t want to see this on eBay,” she smiled as she swooshed her pen over the photo. She won’t.

Then there is a flag from The Masters in 2004. Phil Mickelson had just won his first Major and it seemed like the right thing to do. I asked, he obliged. As he does. And they say nice guys can’t win?

The third autograph I have is signed on a card, part of a box set produced last year by Alzheimer’s Scotland, depicting some of the country’s greatest players.

The idea is these cards are taken into the homes of Alzheimer sufferers who debate the merits of the players in front of them.

Their carers report stunning results. Years are rolled away and memories come flooding back, debates rage and for a while these folk are mentally stimulated.

At Hampden last October the scheme was launched and Lawrie Reilly was asked to promote it. I was one of five journalists who sat with him for half an hour and the man enthralled us all. He was 83 and as sharp as a tack.

I asked him if any of the current Scotland squad would get a game in the teams he played in. With a glint in his eye he replied: “Well, 10 of them might ...”

There’s no way anybody was taking the No.9 jersey from him and when you look at his record you can see why. He played 39 times for Scotland and scored 22 times. If injury hadn’t ended his career at 29, I’d bet Reilly would be the nation’s top scorer.

As it is, only Law, Kenny Dalglish and Hugh Gallacher hit more. Reilly told us he destroyed defences on a diet of fish and chips. His only concession was on match days he didn’t eat the chips until after the game.

He was revered at Hibs and rightly so. The last of the Famous Five, he devoted his entire career to the club and even those of us too young to see him play know all about him because his legend was passed down from grandfather to father to son.

At the end of the interview, I dug the Lawrie Reilly card out and asked: “Would you sign this please, Mr Reilly?”

“No bother, son”, he said. “Don’t know why though. I’m just an old man.”

And now the old man has gone. He won’t be forgotten. Not for as long as fathers continue to tell their children about the great players they’ve heard about from their own fathers.

And not when I can show my boys that signed picture card and tell them: “This was a great player.”

Taken from the Daily Record