No Time for Glory: The Story of a Dismissed Legend

That has always been the case with the Oscars, but this is the first year that I could sense that was the case. It is uncommon for well-heeled members of the audience — including front-row, A-list guests Streep and Jennifer Lopez, to her left — to respond with anything other than mild embarrassment.

Next to her, Lopez looked flabbergasted, but in a good way. And this, on a night where the entertainment was dull, the winners predictable, and the first true victory of the night went to a charming Polish man totally uninterested in heeding the playing-off music. It was, as far as the Oscars go, a powder keg waiting to blow. By now, though, Legend and Common have gotten very good at their stage game—they performed at the Grammys, too, earlier this month—and after rather minimalist performances from Adam Levine, Rita Ora and Tim McGraw, Legend and Common performed with dozens of extras on a reproduction of the Edmund Pettus bridge.

But unexpectedly, the audience rose to their feet en masse, and this after the standing ovation for J. Simmons came in fits and starts. Actor Chris Pine, seated elsewhere, had tears streaming down his face. Presenter Jessica Chastain was visibly moved. Was it motivated by guilt, or by an especially good performance of the song, or something else entirely? Pine was one of the first to spring to his feet.

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Eastern time, it felt like any emotion at all was on the table. And as the awards limped to their silly, anticlimactic close—where three or four movies about white men bickered over which should be the winner—it was abundantly clear that the real story of the night was about how the typically stodgy ceremony felt.

It helps us to identify with the people who are sharing this journey with us. Presented with the trophy live on Grandstand and enjoying every second of it despite himself, McLean advised his mother to close her eyes, before pursing his lips to take his first-ever sip of champagne. The party then cut down the road to Tannadice before, McLean being McLean, confiscated part of the joy, claiming to the local paper that the deed had been done with just 14 players. Milne felt the number was closer to 20, and in a way, both were right: A week later, Aberdeen — champions in , the first from outside the Old Firm since Kilmarnock in — beat Rangers to win the Cup.

As such, Ferguson was left with no choice but to chastise their performance by way of incandescent post-match interview; he and McLean were less New Firm, more New Terrifyingly Firm. But they were not entirely similar; where Ferguson was canny, convivial and charming, McLean was blinkered, teetotal and one-paced.

In some ways, though, his intransigence was laudable. Later that year, he was approached to take over at Rangers, and en route to interview, met Stein in the Hampden car park who asked if United would win the league; McLean thought not. So off toddled McLean to meet the board. United were in the European Cup and had the defence to properly go after it, Hegarty bringing in bite what he lacked in teeth, with Narey covering behind and controlling the line.

Then, in the semi-final, United met Roma, running them off the pitch at Tannadice to secure a lead. So impressive was the performance that the Italian press assumed they were on drugs; so preposterous was the suggestion that McLean assumed they were joking. Eventually, Giuseppe Viola, the Roma president, retracted the doping allegations — by which time they had served their purpose. Then, at full time, McLean was attacked by Roma players and officials, though the majority of punches were absorbed by John Gardiner, his reserve goalie, and Walter Smith, his famously tidy assistant.

Years later, it transpired that Roma had tried to bribe Michel Vautrot, the referee, only for their intermediaries to deem him incorruptible. Two more third places followed, along with odd-goal defeats in the cups. By this time, Thatcherism was seriously biting in Dundee. So people sought solace in their football, and happily found plenty of it. Meanwhile, more prominent roles were taken by John Clark, a converted defender who had joined the club aged 12,and Kevin Gallacher, a young winger.

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By January, he had replaced Milne, who was suffering with alcoholism. As early as , Milne had been coated for taking things too easy, and in the summer of , was seen talking to Brian Clough after a friendly against Nottingham Forest; of course, the only feasible explanation was that he was trying to engineer a transfer. There followed a succession of fines for minor infractions, such that he took labouring work to satisfy his mortgage repayments and which, added to his addiction issues, led to his eventual departure.

That was my first and only task in life — to get them, if I could, to the top. Perhaps so, but those out of the team were stuck; when Alex Taylor found himself idling, his father dropped by the ground for a full and frank rammy. And McLean employed other tactics too, such as keeping approaches for players secret, renegotiating terms when he knew they were happy, and administering a deeply incentivised salary-structure.

Everyone was paid a small basic wage — liveable and no more — which, as Archie Macpherson notes in Flower Of Scotland? On the one hand, players had to fight for their money; on the other, a bad run left them struggling to pay the bills.

Because he got results, the players respected him — but that was where it ended. He was an absolute fucking bampot. There was, though, an upside to all of this. He might even have known that that was a good psychological ploy for him. You got a whack.

While all players received personal attention, training sessions tended to focus on attacking the opposition penalty box, which also worked well for defenders. At the start of , McLean was especially keen to do well in the Uefa Cup.

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With English clubs banned and few outstanding teams elsewhere, he sensed an opportunity — though United might have gone out in the first round. Drawn against Lens, they escaped the first leg with a deficit thanks only to some atrocious finishing; a win at Tannadice remedied the situation. The night before the first leg, to be played at Tannadice, STV screened a programme aboutUnited,during which McLean was filmed sitting in a glass-fronted box, ranting into a telephone. Most revealing was McLean in a quieter moment.

But I enjoy myself when we win now and again and play well. And get on with it United did, a goal up within two minutes after Gallacher side-footed a volley into the left side-netting from just outside the box, down the right. We were in their face, we let them throw it out and then we were pounding down on them They went from two points to six points off the top of the league, and needed a late penalty to scrounge a home Cup draw with Forfar.

Devotions declared or undeclared, the underground tunnel created a Coliseum feel even though there were only 42, spectators present. United were set-up in a enabling them to break quickly through midfield. But at half-time, McLean reassured his men that if they scored Barcelona would panic, and they duly improved while their hosts simply waited for the decisive goal. Except it did not come, and on 86 minutes, the superb Sturrock won a free-kick down the left. There followed much teapotting and double-teapotting, with one defender trying to drill himself through the ground, before the recriminations began.

So United scored again and went through on aggregate; in the stand, the entire club board stood dumbstruck. The mood in the changing room, meanwhile, was typically Plymouth Brethren, with John Holt, the man of the match, telling McInally that he was thinking about joining Forfar. United, though, had no time to dwell on the result, moving on to a Cup semi against Dundee in the barry kits derby. Ten days later, the squad travelled to West Germany, where Gladbach were unbeaten in European football since ; their players predicted a win. A corner ricocheted across the box to Bannon and he cleverly nodded down, for Ferguson to power home a diving header.

But they could not take any of the chances until, in injury time, a punted clearance was beautifully controlled by Gallacher, ball sent inside and man up his arse skirted outside, putting him clear down the right while Redford nashed through the middle. Unusually for a footballer, Redford came from a wealthy farming family, though this did not deliver him an easy life. Profoundly deaf in one ear, he played in the knowledge that a bang on the head could make him completely so, and also struggled with depression perhaps triggered in childhood by the death of his brother; in , he tragically killed himself, aged just This, though, was his night.

But fortunately he did the right thing and he squared it to me, and I remember, the goalkeeper committed himself very early, and I just sort of popped it round the side of him then basically just put it into an empty net. As Redford stood, arms thrown up, back arched, his team-mates arrived and mayhem ensued on the touchline. In that period, they had won away to Avenir Beggen yet were still possessed of the cruelty to do them at home, which is to say that they were no joke.

And they were also just back from their mid-season break, while United were on to their 63rd game without one, a small squad meaning most of its members were involved most of the time. The Ullevi Stadium, where the first leg was played, generally had a very decent pitch. That was the only goal of the game, meaning United returned home well in the match. They then quickly polished off their league programme with two matches in three days, and prepared for the Cup final a further three days on.

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In it they would play St Mirren, without a trophy since and 24 points worse than them over the season. In extra-time, though, Gallacher failed to connect with a cross when standing in front of goal, the effort taking him into an offside position wh ile Ferguson was in the process of tapping home. The ref pointed to the centre-circle only for the linesman to intervene, and two minutes later, Ian Ferguson steered home the winner for the underdogs.

Jim McLean was going scatty because I think he thought as well this would be our big chance to win the Scottish Cup. He was disappointed again.