Around 20 years ago, at a wedding near London, I sat next to a man I’d never before met.
A handsome chap with a shaved head and pristine suit, he stood out – a little bit of Hollywood about him.
Like me, he was from Dundee. What were the chances?
There was more. We both supported Dundee FC and attended the High School of Dundee.
And then it became surreal – as we learned we both had Dundonian mums who had us in London, before moving back to Dundee, when we were small, to bring us up as single parents.
And we were both newspaper journalists.
Hi name was Patrick – or Paddy – Barclay, one of the very best football writers of his generation; many would argue the best.
And last week, sadly, he died aged 77.
Newspapers and social media were flooded with tributes, every article unequivocal about his success – one of the few journalists to be the main writer for his discipline for all four national broadsheet groups at different times – the Times, Guardian-Observer, Telegraph and Independent.
But it was the personal stories and sense of very real loss that lingered.
The Guardian’s Kevin Mitchell conveyed beautifully a friendship and work relationship that spanned decades, seeing him just days before the unexpected news in Paddy’s “fashionably shabby hideaway” of a club near London’s Trafalgar Square.
“Now we’ve lost our supernova: farewell to Patrick Barclay, one of the very best,” he said.
“Football journalist combined charm and natural effervescence with a body of work that few could match.”
Fellow Dundonian sports writer Alan Pattullo’s heartbreak was palpable when he posted: “Oh, Paddy. Heading to Dens with a heavy, heart today but then there’s nowhere else to be.
“Remembering a hero, mentor and best of friends, with whom so much fun’s been had..
“British football has had few finer chroniclers and Dundee Football Club have had no finer ambassador.”
These are men who knew Paddy and their football exceptionally well. I can claim neither.
But rarely has one meeting left such a mark and I would like to pay tribute to this wee boy which once he was and I can clearly envisage, from Dundee – and what he achieved.
And how – no matter the stadiums attended, the countries visited and interviews granted – he never left his roots.
Where better to start than his return at a young age to Dundee, where his grandfather instilled in him a love of Dundee FC and Scottish football.
He started his career at the Dundee Evening Telegraph – like so many greats beginning with the DC Thomson stable – learning his trade as a writer.
Like so many boys, I wonder if he dreamed of being a player. As a mum of three sons, I see that so many hold that hope – and who’s to say it can’t happen? Yet the reality is the tiniest minority will play professionally.
But what if they could make football their career without playing? What if they used words to learn the trade of journalism and, like Paddy, reach for the sky – travel the world, have millions enraptured by your storytelling and humour?
My grandad Davie Maxwell used to be drinking buddies with the late, great Sunday Post football writer Ron Scott, who many of you will remember.
My grandad held Ron on the highest of regards, almost dumbfounded that he had a pal who was paid to write about football. Did it get any better?
Back to Paddy.
This should be part of his legacy – not just the great body of work he created but the knowledge it is an option. Football – or whatever your passion – can give you a life you could only dream of, even if your first choice of getting there reaches a dead end.
I wish I’d kept in touch. I think we did for a while. I wish I’d told him I’d converted my middle boy to redress the family’s Tannadice leaning. He’d have liked that. Life is fleeting and sometimes, people make an unexpected impression.
It turns out it wasn’t a coincidence I sat next to him all those years ago.
The groom, Paddy’s fellow broadsheet football writer and my pal Jim Bruce Ball, knew the Dundee connection and tickled the seating plan accordingly.
Let me leave you with a story from Paddy that had me laughing like a drain.
Whenever he came back to Dundee, he’d get a fish supper in the Ferry.
And every time, the man serving him refused to take his money.
“It’s on us,” he was told – and then the man pointed at a picture behind the counter.
There was no doubting the resemblance to the man being served – but it was of Stark Trek and Hollywood acting legend Patrick Stewart.
“It’s not every day we get a movie star come to visit,” the man said.
Paddy never had the heart to put him right.
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