24 years ago today, author Alex Gordon was present when Celtic announced Martin O’Neill as their new manager.
During a long career in journalism, Alex worked as the sports editor of the best-selling Sunday Mail. Among his fifteen published Celtic books are “50 Flags Plus One” and “Lisbon Lions: The 40th Anniversary Celebration.”
In 2015, Ringwood published his first book of newspaper memoirs, “Jinx Dogs Burns Now Flu,” in which he recalled the audience with the new gaffer.
This is Alex’s account of their initial encounter with the Northern Irishman.
Martin O’Neill gave everyone in the room a lethal look before stating, “I want you all to know that I hold a grudge, just to be absolutely sure about this.” No, I’m not making this up. I do, in fact, harbour grudges. To be honest, I do.
On a brilliantly sunny June 2000 afternoon, I had received an invitation to see the new Celtic manager at the Crutherland Hotel, which was tucked away in lovely grounds on the route to East Kilbride. It was an occasion for about fifteen other sports journalists to meet the new team head for the first time.
Thus, O’Neill was addressing a packed dining room full of strangers while stylishly arriving nearly an hour late. But he wasn’t sitting around; instead, he put it on the line during his ‘maiden’ speech at the end of a rather splendid lunch.
After spending about an hour with him that day, I quickly realised he wasn’t the biggest joker. He didn’t seem to be trying to strike up a conversation with anyone in the vicinity, including me, and instead gave off the impression of being serious and reclusive.
But I did get the distinct feeling that he was assessing everyone in the room, taking quick mental notes, and building up his might. I thought he was a really serious man, and he had a mean glower to prove it.
The man tasked with giving the dying Celtic Football Club a second lease on life stepped to the head of the table to command attention when it came to coffee and liquors. He spoke the standard opening line, “Big club, big job, big test.” Everything of those kind.
After completing the formalities, the real Martin O’Neill took over and made it clear to everyone in the room what he planned to achieve as manager of “one of the greatest clubs in the world” in the upcoming years.
Nor was he speaking only of his players. That day, not a single member of the press was unsure of what would come next from the Crutherland Hotel. Everyone felt the same way: “Cross me and you’re in trouble.” It was audible and distinct.
I had to confess that I had to appreciate the man as I sat back. As he held court, I’m quite sure he didn’t know too much about anyone in the room, possibly with the exception of Davie Provan, a former Celtics player who was promoting Sky Sports. He struck me right away as a tremendously dedicated, single-minded person who wouldn’t sleep a wink on slamming doors on people.
His “I bear grudges” phrase is still audible to me. That day, everyone trying to find the tiniest trace of a smile on the new Celtic manager’s face as he said those lines was wasting their efforts. He definitely meant every sentence. He was giving everyone a warning about what would happen if they didn’t follow the regulations and laying down the law. I must have missed it if he was asking the media for favours.
Nope, it was his way or the highway; this was Martin O’Neill.
He was able to extract some information that I knew was on his agenda that afternoon without much difficulty. He declared that he detested leaks from the changing room and that they would be handled. Who at Parkhead had loose lips, he wanted to know.
Remarkably, a helpful hacker, presumably attempting to gain favour, nearly raised his hand as if he were at a school desk. He revealed Jonathan Gould, the goalie, to be a bloke with a nice rapport with the media.
Really? O’Neill asked. “Knowing that is interesting.” The reporters gathered around them moaned; yet another informational channel had become unproductive.
Of course, it could just be coincidence, but after the first thirteen games of the season, Gould vanished from the first team’s consciousness. After Robert Douglas was brought in from Dundee, the media-friendly Gould faced the end.
It’s been said that you only have one chance to create an impression. That is undoubtedly the philosophy of a fairly bright man from Kilrea, Northern Ireland, I would say.
