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The crowds thronged the streets from the old church building all the way to the cemetary, many rows deep as people came from all over the country, indeed the world, to pay their final respects to a man for whom the oft over used term Legend was certainly more than fitting. His had been a long life, passing away quietly in his sleep at the grand old age of eighty nine and many of the people lining the street were mere figments of their parents imaginations when this man was at his peak, when he performed the miracles that raised him from humble birth to mighty legend, saviour of his country, if not quite saviour of mankind. As the coffin passed slowly through the streets of Kilmarnock, winding its weary way to the final resting place of this great man, many tears were shed of grief, but also of pride. Pride that this nation, this fierce, independent country of football lovers, haggis eaters, kilt wearers had been dragged from the literal depths of despair to become once more the rightful owners of the tag of greatest nation on the planet – at least in footballing terms. And if it had been now longer than many people lined here could remember since those glory days, they were forever etched in the memories of those who were there, and written into the pages of Scottish folklore.
Yet as the crowds lined the streets to bid a fond farewell to a Scottish legend, a man who dragged Scottish football from the depths of obscurity back to its rightful place at the top of the pile, a man who had been instrumental in the establishing once more this proud and ancient nation to its place of self determination, few who witnessed his birth could ever have believed it would come to this. Indeed, as the body of this great man was slowly lowered into the earth from which it had come, it was a contrast indeed from that of the birth of this now immortal being. A man born, the sixth of six boys, to an impoverished family on the outskirts of Kilmarnock in the mid 1960's had, from those humble, harsh beginings risen to become one of the most famous people the country had ever produced.
Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was just blind luck that on the 24th April 1965, the very moment that Kilmarnock Football Club had just beaten Heart of Midlothian 2-0 in Edinburgh to claim the Scottish League Championship on goal average, a small, unwanted, fragile baby boy was being born not a million miles from the home of Kilmarnock FC, Rugby Park. There was no weeping crowd to witness this birth, no wise men came bearing gifts and his birth was not the most celebrated even amongst his own family. Duncan MacLeod was supposed to be a girl. After five boys, his parents were so convinced that the girl they longed for so much was on her way, they had stockpiled all the pink, frilly clothes their meagre income could afford. That Duncan MacLeod had been born a boy was a huge dissapointment to his family.
As Duncan made his fretful, tearful way into the world, so his father, drunk as skunk from celebrating the title win of his favourite footballing side, walked in front of a double decker bus. His funeral, unlike that of his son eighty nine years later, was attended by virtually no-one. Alistair MacLeod had been a loudmouthed, loathsome wife beater of a man, and it was probably just as well for the newborn baby that he would never know the father who had spawned him. The father whose regular beatings for his wife – she had to learn her place – almost endangered the very existance of the child who was destined for greatness. A greatness his father could never even imagine to aspire. Fatherless and penniless, Duncan was not a well child and found himself in hospital more times during his early years than out. As he grew, being small for his age and a rather timid child, he was the subject of bullying both at school – and at home. His older brothers had not been so fortunate to miss their fathers abuse and they took from the only male role model they had ever know, all the bad points that man had.
It was little surprise that three of Duncan's brothers ended up 'inside'. One died of a drugs overdose at the age of just seventeen and the other drove his motorcycle over a cliff ages twenty one. It was however, no great loss to the human race. Duncan though was different. At least he found a better way to express his pain in life, and that way came via a round ball. From a very early age Duncan MacLeod took to kicking a ball about, but it was not until he was twelve years old that his footballing talent was spotted and he was snapped up by Kilmarnock Boys Club. His mother had tried to oppose his joining, she claimed she could not afford the costs, she needed Duncan home every night but nothing she could say could stop the hand of fate. Although it was not for the want of trying.
At just twenty seven days short of his 16th birthday, Duncan MacLeod made an uninspiring debut for the Kilmarnock first team in a League Cup match away to Albion Rovers. It would be fourteen months before MacLeod would play for the first team again, but the seeds of a legend had already been sewn, and there was now no stopping his path to legendary fame.
There was one thing at least that came from being bullied – Duncan MacLeod developed into a fast runner. In fact many people in years to come would comment, as he sped down the wing for Kilmarnock, Liverpool or Scotland, that he could have been an Olympic sprinter. And they weren't far wrong. MacLeod had actually been part of a local athletics club as youth, another attempt perhaps to get away from a home life that was far from happy . Football though soon got in the way, and it was football that Duncan MacLeod pursued with vigour – and ultimately with great success.
If there was something else that his constant bullying in his formative years instilled in MacLeod, it was in building his character. There are two ways to react to bullying. It can, like it had done to Duncan's mother, break down all self esteem and leave the person feeling so worthless that they almost feel it is their place in life to be bullied, to be someone else's punchbag. Agnes MacLeod was someone else's punchbag as she listed from one abusive relationship to the next until eventually the inevitable happened and her abused body could take no more. Duncan MacLeod had of all his brothers at least, grown up with a sense of pride and dignity, respectfulness. It would have been so easy to stay in Madrid upon hearing of his mothers untimely demise. He had no reason to come home to bid farewell to a mother who had barely been such and whom he had seen only fleetingly in the years since, as a young man having just passed the landmark age of 21 had left his home town, a place he had few reasons out with football to really care about, and made his way south to a brave new world, and a future paved with gold and glamour.
Yet duty made him do so, and he supposed, love. As he stood in the small, almost deserted room of the crematorium, the only child present of those Agnes MacLeod had given birth to, Duncan felt little grief at the loss of a woman who, if she had had her way, would have prevented this man from achieving anything in life that he had. There was very little good to remember about his times with his mother. She had not been a loving mother, and although it was easy to find excuses in her dreadful life, Duncan did not find it easy to feel sorrow at her parting. He both hated her, and loved her for in the end, despite everything, she was – had been – his mother, and without her he literally would not be here. His mother had been a weak, self-loathing worm of a woman who had let herself be used and abused by a string of men and although in his heart Duncan knew that she deserved pity, he also felt she deserved contempt. These feelings though he tried to put down, this was after all his mother, and he had no right to feel contempt. Or even pity, perhaps.
Agnes MacLeod had given into the bullying in her life, she had accepted it, almost incorporated it into her being. Her youngest son had refused to accept that his role in life was to be that of the bully-ee. As a young lad he was small, but he was also fast and when cornered he would not, like his mother, simply cower down and take the beating, that much he had promised himself even as a very young child when he could barely have understood much of what went on around him. And it was this steely determination not to give in that gave him the character that would make him not only a great footballer, but also as a manager a man who would take no crap from his players. If people had thought Duncan MacLeod, a small, quiet and amicable chap, was a push over they soon found out how wrong that assumption was if they got on his wrong side. Like Henry Smith had done when Duncan was ten. Most times when confronted by the bullies from school, who usually so bravely hung around with a pack, Duncan ran way and his running away had saved his neck on many occasions. This one time though he had not run away. Henry Smith, three years older, had decided that he needed no backing from his pack to teach this young lad a lesson. In the end though, it was the teenager who was to receive a lesson he would never forget. A lesson for which he would exact a potent, and almost lethal revenge.
Like most small boys, Duncan MacLeod loved football. It wasn't so much that he loved a football club in particular, he just loved kicking a ball about and on a very rare occasion he was able to join the boys in the street for a kickabout. Although he was a target for bullies because of his size and apparantly timid nature, Duncan was also good at football and the same boys who might ridicule him at one moment, were more than happy to have him on the 'football field' the next. It was just life, and that was just the way things were in one particular kids life. Yet for all his love of the game, it wasn't until he was nearly nine years old that Duncan saw his first live game of football. Not that he hadn't wanted to go to a match, but his mother never had any money spare, and besides which there was no one to take him.
It was Jonathan Mitchell – Mitch young Duncan called him affectionately – who took a keen interest in the young lad, and whose interest led Duncan to being able to attend a football match. Not that his mother ever knew anything about that. Duncan had learned at a very young age how to keep secrets from his family, and this was one secret he was determined never to share. Those Saturday afternoons in the Spring of 1974 seemed like a dream in later years, the golden years of a childhood that had never really blossomed, and they culminated in the everlasting memory of watching the 1974 World Cup Finals on Jonathan Mitchell's brand spanking new television, bought specially for that occasion. A brand spanking new colour television. The tragedy that had so marred the young Duncan's life would strike once more later that summer, but nothing could diminish the joy of that wonderful, short and glorious period of his life.
Jonathan Mitchell was a leader at the local youth club, which Duncan had been able to attend on and off over the years depending on the mood of his mother, or her particular boyfriend at the time. Mitchell was just nineteen in the Spring of '74, training to be a school teacher and in him Duncan found a kind of pseudo father figure, a role model that he had seriously lacked in his short but painful existance. By the Spring of 1974, Duncan lived in the house he had grown up in with his mother, her current 'lover' Larry Watkins and his seventeen year old brother James, who would die just before Christmas of this year having overdosed on whatever drug it was he was on – 'coke most likely but Duncan never found out and never really cared. James was rarely home, and when he was Duncan had the good sense to stay out of his way. Two of his older brothers were in the 'pokey' for petty crimes and the other had moved 'down south' to find a better life. A life that would tragically end in a couple of years time by driving a motorcycle over a cliff. The other brother, Michael who was 12 in that year, was in a 'special' school, being that he was what his mother scornfully called, 'a *******'. Hehad Downs Syndrome Duncan later found out, and his mother had been unable, or more likely unwilling to cope.
Duncan then was left to his own devices most of the time, his mother was usually drunk or doped up and Larry had made it clear he wanted the kid out of his way as much as possible, and that suited Duncan down to the ground. As the 1973-74 football season drew it's conclusion Kilmarnock, who only nine years earlier were winning the Scottish League, were battling for promotion from Division Two. Mitch, who had grown fond of the young Duncan and knew that he was given a hard time from the other lads, and guessed a lot more about the kids home life than the boy let on, suggested that Duncan might like to come with him to a home match against St Johnstone. The offer did not strictly come out of the blue, they had discussed such things before but Mitch had been unsure how such an offer would be received and was not totally comfortable about not asking the boys parents for permission – Duncan had told him in no uncertain terms that he would not ask his mother if he could go, she would never allow it and the implication had been trouble for the lad.
Duncan though really wanted to go to a game, and so although it went against his better judgement, Mitch came up with a plan. He would have Duncan come over to his place, where he stayed with his parents, to 'help out around the house and garden', and he would pay him two pounds. Duncan's mother was only too happy to have the money, and it was a good enough cover story. She would indeed have been mad had she known that instead of working her son had been to a football match, but the money at the end of the day was all she cared about and two pounds would go a long way in 1974. The Spring which led to the golden summer, started at Rugby Park as Kilmarnock thrashed St Johnstone 3-1, and eventually went on to achieve second place and promotion back to the top flight of Scottish Football. It was a period that Duncan wished would never end, and he was probably the only sad person on the final day of a successful season. What now would he do with his Saturdays, and with summer approaching, how would he fill his days and stay out of his parents way.
The answer came in the form of the 1974 World Cup in West Germany, and it was that tournament as much as anything else that decided in the mind of the young Duncan MacLeod that he would grow up to be a footballer, to play for Scotland in the World Cup Finals. An ambition he most certainly would go on to achieve both as a player, and also in the end as a manager.
The 1974 World Cup was pivotal not only in the life of a nine year old boy who would go on to become one of the greatest footballers his country had ever produced, it was also in many ways the pivotal point for a particular nations love affair with the tournament. Scotland had been at the finals of the World Cup twice before- 1954, when the tournament was held in Switzerland and four years later when the worlds greatest footballing event travelled north to Sweden. Neither time had the Scots equipped themselves with any great glory.
In 1954, Scotland travelled to Switzerland to take on Uruguay and Austria. Czechoslovakia were also in Scotland's group but one of the quirks of that particular tournament meant that certain teams did not play each other and so Scotland did not play Czechoslovakia. Which was probably just as well. Scotland opening match was in Zurich against Austria and the line up contained two players who would themselves go on to manage their country, namely Tommy Docherty and Willie Ormond. The Scots equiped themselves adequately, only going down by a goal to nil, but the second, and final match for the Scots, saw them ripped apart by Uruguay and eventually were humiliated by a 7-0 scoreline. The World Cup was over, and many Scots were hoping they would never have to endure such again.
Four years later, Scotland travelled over the North Sea to Sweden to take part in the 1958 World Cup Finals. This was the tournament that saw the emergence of arguably the greatest player of all time, but that was of little relevance to a Scotland side who just needed to restore some pride after their last woeful effort. This time the Scots were much better prepared, and would face up to Yugoslavia, Paraguay and France. The squad contained some legendary names, amongst them Tommy Docherty once more, Eric Caldow, Eddie Turnbull and Dave MacKay. The opening match with Yugoslavia was drawn 1-1, and it was Jimmy Murray who entered the record books as the first Scot to score at a World Cup Finals. There were high hopes after the opening draw that Scotland could overcome Paraguay and take a step towards the next stage of the tournament. The South Americans though proved to be no mugs, and although Scotland battled hard in the end a 3-2 defeat was all they had to show for their efforts. There was still a chance though and victory in the final match would see Scotland progress. The French though raced to a 2-0 half time lead, and although Stuart Baird countered in the second to make the score respectful, the Scots went down to a second defeat and bowed out of the tournament. At least this time though, they had done so with a little bit of dignity. It would be sixteen more years though, before Scotland once more graced the stage of the greatest show on earth.
And this time, they felt they had has good a chance as anyone.
It wasn't just the fact that Scotland were playing that made the 1974 World Cup so special for Duncan MacLeod. He supposed, looking back years later, that there was also the element of the losing of the person who had become to him something more than a brother, more possibly than a father and at that time of his young life, the best friend he had ever had. The only person who had shown young Duncan any real love and affection had gone out of his life just a few short weeks after that glorious summer, and although he did see Mitch again, there relationship was never the same, could never be after the terrible thing that had happened. Yet in a way, it also placed a border round that sunny period, placing it in a setting that would never be forgotten.
As Duncan made his way to Mitch's place on the 14th of June to watch Scotland's opening match on TV against Zaire, he of course had no idea what fate had in store for the future and perhaps in many ways it is just as well that fate keeps her plans well hidden. Duncan was excited, about as happy in his life as he had ever been and it wasn't just because Scotland were playing, although that was a huge part of it. And it wasn't just that Kilmarnock keeper Jim Stewart was in the Scotland squad – albeit much to Duncan's eternal disappointment Stewart did not make any appearance at those finals. There was so much more beneath the surface, and a lot of it Duncan, being only nine, simply could not explain.
Football was a wonderful game in his eyes, and here before those eyes in full glorious colour, were teams from all sorts of places all over the world. Duncan had no idea where Zaire, Haiti, Chile were. He had little concept of how these people, jet black skinned and athletic, lived, where they lived. It was in many ways a huge cultural shock to a young nine year old boy who lived in Kilmarnock. There were not exactly many black people living around that area in that time, and for a kid like Duncan his only 'experience' of black people had come through comic books, and they were rarely flattering to the blacks. This was not the peak time for the Policitally Correct brigade, who were all probably still in nappies, or yet to be born. There was almost something magical in these nations, something outwith the emotional grasp of a nine year old, but it was their magic – intended or not – that somehow added to the amazement of what was an incredible occasion.
There have long been, and always will be, arguments over what was the best Scotland line up of all time, but the 1974 World Cup side can surely live up there with the best of them and over the few weeks of that tournament Duncan amongst others fell in love with the players who did Scotland so proud. The eleven players who lined up for that opening match against Zaire could well be the greatest Scotland team ever, and would certainly not look out of place in any such competition.
David Harvey, Sandy Jardine, Danny McGrain, Billy Bremner, 'Big' Jim Holton, John Blackley, Kenny Dalglish, Joe Jordan, Davie Hay, Peter Lorimer, Denis Law
And when you think that the likes of Martin Buchan, Gordon McQueen and the magical Jimmy Johnston were on the bench, you kind of see the quality this incredible side possessed.
Scotland of course did not win the 1974 World. In their opening match against the mysterious Africans of Zaire, Peter Lorimer and Joe Jordan provided the goals in a decent enough 2-0 win – Scotland first ever at a World Cup Finals, but the narrowness of such a win was to come back and haunt the side big time. Yugoslavia, who had held the mighty Brazil to a goalless draw, thrashed the hapless central African nation by a whopping nine goals to nil, to put Scotland performance firmly in the shade. Scotland themselves also managed a 0-0 draw against a Brazil side who were far from the best that country had ever produced. If Scotland could beat Yugoslavia they would be through to the 2nd phase, but the Yugoslavs were a good team and led the Scots until two minutes from time when a Joe Jordan goal gave a nation hope. Unfortunately, a controversial third Brazilian goal against Zaire saw the South Americans progress and Scotland went out unbeaten, of a tournament that would eventually see West Germany defeat the Netherlands 2-1 in the Final.
It was a summer Scotland would never forget, and for Duncan MacLeod personally, it was a summer that changed his life. In more ways than one. Six weeks after that World Cup Final, something happened that ensured that Duncan would lose the only person who had ever shown him that he as a person was worth something – and Duncan found himself in a situation that so very nearly could have had tragic consequences. Fate can be cruel, but she can also be extremely providential.
The True Story of a Footballing Legend. 
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