A great man died yesterday. Billy
McNeill captain of the Lisbon Lions, the legendary Celtic team that were the
first Brits to win the European Cup, in 1967. The leader of a swashbuckling attack-minded
group of players saturated with legends: Jimmy Johnstone, Tommy Gemmell, Bobby
Murdoch etc. All of them, the entire team, that is, were from within thirty
miles of Glasgow. In addition, the manager was the greatest of his generation,
Jock Stein, Alex Ferguson’s mentor. That match changed football. Beating Inter
Milan, the bronzed Italian Adonises, whose defensive style had dominated European
football, opened the door to other attacking teams. The following years, it was
Manchester United’s turn. Ajax with their “total football” won three in a row,
a few years later. Celtic’s ground-breaking victory would not have happened
without Billy McNeill, I suspect. Every successful team needs a great captain. Tall and majestic he had that rare gift of
poise. Nicknamed Cesar, not due to any Roman connection though it does fit a
man of his majesty, it was due to him owning the same car as the character
Cesar from the original Ocean’s Eleven film. One of the few players in those
days at Celtic to own a car, most of them took the bus to training. A man of dignity and honour, like his
contemporary, the English captain, Bobby Moore, a far cry from the bling and
tack that is modern football, though Bobby Moore managed to be a bit of a
celebrity in the seventies, he was never cretinized by wealth like the circus
that is the contemporary game.
They came
from a different time. A time where they would consider luxuries, what we take
for granted; Central heating, an inside toilet, a hot shower, a car, good food.
Such training in life must keep one's feet on the ground, surely. People like Billy McNeill are a lesson to
modern times. Their values should be taught in schools. Our self-obsessed, self-indulgent
culture of entitlement where mediocrity is often celebrated or at least
tolerated has its plus points, of course. I’m very grateful for the modern
luxuries but our crass lack of dignity as a society would surely have been a
big turn-off to the great and modest Billy McNeill. Or maybe, not? Maybe he would have taken it in his stride like he did everything else. Suffering dementia for many
years and latterly unable to speak, he remained a devoted and loyal family man.
His family should be proud. And we, not just football fans should be grateful. Thank-you
Cesar.
