2.5 Stars!
McIlvanney belongs to that old school type of Scottish sports journalism, a slow, distinctive brand which is almost gone, and which can come across as a little dry and stilted to many in the 21st Century. McIlvanney is held in high regard by many, and I recall reading some of his work in the broadsheets, but this certainly isn't my idea of quality or enjoyable football writing, although it had its moments.
With obituary pieces for Matt Busby, Bobby Moore, Jock Stein, Bill Shankly, as well as fellow scribe, John Rafferty, this can almost feel a little bit like a graveyard at times. But he’s not just all about praise and recognition, as his take on one footballer/film actor shows, “the lamentable mediocrity of the Premier League, a competition in which an unreconstructed hod-carrier called Vinny Jones not only qualifies for first team wages but is enough of a roughneck celebrity to promote a video that purports to be a macho-man’s guide to dirty tricks.”
He can clearly see the clouds gathering on the horizon during the opening seasons of the English Premiership, warning how important the game has been and remains for so many people, particularly among the working classes, and how the growing greed of clubs in the new era is threatening to take that away, and gentrify it at the exclusion of the original audience, and of course this is exactly what happened, on a scale that maybe even McIlvanney couldn’t have anticipated.
He does occasionally fall into nostalgia traps, convinced that players and standards were better in the past, repeatedly bringing up the huge impact of Charlton, Law and Best, but then he also openly admires and promotes many of the talents in the times he writes from. Giving particular praise to the likes of Ryan Giggs, John Barnes and Liam Brady and many others from further afield.
Far too many of these articles were just too dull for me, I found most of his World Cup pieces particularly tedious or forgettable, they lacked a spark or angle which would be the thing to make them worthwhile of being part of such a collection. I wouldn’t call this essential reading, but these do successfully capture an era of pre-EPL, pre-Champions League, before the money got insane and the players and clubs grew bloated, greedy and still got away with convincing most that it wasn’t really all just about the money.