So, a giant has left our lives

A man of this earth, this country and this town, not of some imaginary idyll, a man full of life, who helped give life to a joyous period of Saturday afternoons and midweek evenings when the rain and the dogshite were invisible, a period smelling of Greenhalls and Bovril, Senior Service and the UCP.  His story started way before us but hopefully ended with us in his memory and his heart.

There are many things I love about Mal and always will do, but the main one is that the more you learn about him the more you are in awe.  How on earth as a young player do you take over the coaching of a club from the manager and then set in progress a regime that produced some of the most aesthetic footballers ever to grace this country's football pitches?  A regime that lasted decades after he left.   How do you do that?  It is Churchillian, perhaps it is something in the combination of the best cigars and champagne.

His ability to annoy and disrupt authority was also a joy to behold, while looking and behaving much more Saturday Night Fever than the Last Night at the Electric Circus this was a man who could claim to have inspired punk rock football management and employed some proto-punk rock footballers - many for Our Very Own.  His bans his arguments and his insults were pure box-office.  His verbal assassinations of Mullery, Atkinson and Bond were worthy of the highest debating chambers.

Just taking these attributes you would have him down as the blueprint for the special one but that is ignoring him being part of the most beautiful partnership you could wish.  A supernova lighting up my childhood with a glow that will supplied me with central heating for the rest of my life.   An explosion that generated the stars that still play football in my dreams.  I close my eyes and every night it can play out, not wishful thinking but things I have seen with my own eyes.

I have read some half baked comments today and no doubt over the next few days we will get lots more. Serious political journalists and dark hearted internet trolls bringing up the the subject of the second coming.   Most who have commented were not there, those that were appear to have forgotten the facts, the decline that had already started, the players that had become too big for their boots.   The problem was not the decision to bring him back the problem was, despite full knowledge of Mal's strengths and weaknesses, our owner decided no brakes were needed, money we didn't have could be spent.  There was total abdication of responsibility.

And then having sat back authorised the transactions and invited the television round to watch, he had what can only be described as a rectal prolapse.  Mal was gone, tears were shed by the players on tv and me in my bedroom.

I suppose there was some sense in employing one of Mal's disciples to replace him, but what a poor one we got.  The three signings were good but were no more than should have been expected from a professional manager outside looking in at another's problems.  And then he became like Eddy the Eagle on the 90m jump, yes we got to the final but finished last and crashed into a tree breaking all our bones.

Nothing will convince me Mal wouldn't have built a better club given a chance and an owner/board of directors growing some bollocks.   I might be wrong but I don't think so, I had seen what the big man could achieve and I think was well on the way to producing a belting team.  I suppose I may be biased but then again I continue to be haunted by THAT tv documentary showing the tv salesman trading in the Panasonic for an Alba.

And its that end that might leave a sour taste, but it doesn't because he gave me much more joy than that hurtful episode could ever take away.

They say you should never meet your heroes, that is of course bunkum, when you met Malcolm he was exactly what you expected.   You could feel Big Mal's presence in the room, there was no act, no pretence, no acting he was the show, a true giant.  Every time he appeared on tv, in the press, in a dug out, directors box or pub and you had the honour to witness it your day, your life was improved.

Bye Mal and thanks.

JB