BEHIND THE PLAY #14

Ostensibly this is a soccer newsletter but it’s a very intersectional one. There’s no game reviews or tactics diagrams (yet) but there’s lots of examples of where and how the game crosses paths with formative experiences, parenting, and travel for better or worse.

It also intersects with family. Sometimes majestically and happily, sometimes sadly and reflectively. This edition of Behind the Play is about the latter.

My Uncle Bill passed away on the weekend after long bouts of both cancer and pulmonary disease. He was my dad’s brother and a man who created a centripetal force when he entered a room. People were drawn to his dry humour, always delivered with a wide smile. A successful graphic designer, his house was full of art that sparked conversation, which he was happy to lead. He grew up and stayed in Glasgow while his brother, my dad, emigrated to Vancouver when I was a baby. Our efforts to instill transatlanticism as a family trait petered out over the decades, aided by inter-generational doses of family dysfunction, both of generic and unique strains. The forays across the ocean by both sides of the family were steady early on but then withered on the vine to the point where cordiality is the best description of where we stand today in diminished numbers.

But my uncle left a lasting impression of support for me and my efforts in the game many times. He, along with my dad, grew up as Partick Thistle supporters, Glasgow’s third and much less well known football club. As his graphic design business thrived he couldn’t contain his disdain for Thistle’s repeatedly lack lustre kit and sent them, unsolicited and at no cost, designs for an update. They liked them and that led to their first jerseys with vertical stripes. For a lifelong supporter of the club it was a proud moment for him.

In 1988, when I was playing for UBC, we did a trip in May to England, Scotland and Ireland to play four games. One was against Raith Rovers at their stadium in Kirkcaldy. I get that they probably took the game lightly (‘Canadians? University team? Why are we bothering with this?’) but we were not used to being taken lightly as the Leeds United youth team we played a few days prior discovered. The regular laughter and accent piss takes we could hear coming from the other dressing room and in the warm up before the game motivated us. I was already psyched though as I knew Uncle Bill was driving up after work to be among less than twenty people who came out to see the game.

The game turned out to be a barnburner and Raith, after starting the game with a lot of younger players, quickly subbed several players when they saw what the standard was going to be. In the end they won 1-0 and to their credit their staff and a player or two came into our dressing room afterwards and thanked us for a great game and acknowledged they’d taken us too lightly.

My uncle in keeping with his generally established comportment had quickly and easily found his way to the Raith Director’s box and enjoyed the game with the guys with the club blazers and ties. He relayed to me afterwards that the mood changed considerably as the game progressed and they too, somewhat at his insistence, recognized that just because a bunch of hungover UBC soccer players stumble out of two minibuses after a five hour drive 90 minutes before kick-off it doesn’t mean we haven’t come to play. So Bill gave them a bit of a hard time and a couple of them came down to the post-game social they put on and said some kind things.

I went back to Glasgow to spend the night with Bill, my aunt and my cousins. On the drive back he encouraged me to consider coming for trials with teams in Scotland and said Raith would likely be happy to have me and several of my teammates in for a look. He offered to have me stay at his house if I wanted to give it a try. I’d had one similar offer from a family friend in England a few years earlier when he came out to see me sit on the bench when our U19 National team I was on played the Liverpool reserves before going to the Youth World Cup in the USSR. I turned that down because I was really losing interest in the game at that point. Ironically, I turned down my uncle’s offer because I was now back to really loving the game at UBC (and had a couple years left to go there to finish my degree). But it was generous of him to come, watch me play and then make that offer.

The next time I saw him was at the 1990 World Cup. My buddy Alex, who I mentioned in a previous newsletter, and I did a six month back-packing trip through, Asia, Australia, Africa and finally Europe, timing it such that we arrived in Italy while the World Cup was on. Bill was going with this buddy too and brought Alex and I tickets to see Scotland play Costa Rica and Sweden.

Wouldn’t take a penny from us for the tickets. Bought us meals and drinks and was really keen to hear all about our travels. I’ve seen a lot of great games in a lot of cool stadiums and cities but I’ve always retained strong, thankful memories for what my uncle did for Alex and I here.

The last time my life intersected with the game and my uncle was in 1993. It was an ill-fated trip to Scotland to visit family with our then one year old son. We felt it was something we should do. It did not go well for a variety of reasons and led to what ended up being a long held decision, for a variety of reasons, that we didn’t need to go back. None of which had anything to do with Bill. As Alex Ferguson should have said, “Family. Blood hell.”

By now though he was a Rangers season ticket holder though and had his name engraved on his seats at Ibrox. He took me to see them play Hearts which ended up being interesting as Justin Fashanu had made his return to playing in the UK. I had played with and been coached by Fash in Edmonton in 1988. He then traded me at the start of the 1989 season. We didn’t get along. Those stories are easily worth a couple of BTP newsletters.

The game wasn’t memorable but the fact that once again my uncle was making time for me to meet and enjoy the game we both drank deeply from was very memorable and appreciated.

A character with a sharp mind, a generous soul and, like me, a life intertwined with the game. Rest in peace, Uncle Bill.

Always best to pay attention at intersections. Lots happen there.

No newsletter this Thursday. See you next Monday.

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