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They say that reality is shaped by chance. That for each and every action, there is a series of re-actions that can lead off to form different realities, and the possibilities are there infinite. So, it might well be that in every other reality, the events I am about to describe failed to happen. Of course, it might well be they did. After all, I can only know the reality in which I live, everything else is irrelevant.
Let me say though, right at the very start, that I never intended to write this autobiography. I was sure no-one would be overly interested, and indeed it was my wife, Elizabeth, who coerced me into getting it done. After all, she explained, even if you had been a total and abject failure, the very fact of you even being in the position you were, of the circumstances surrounding that, would surely be of interest?
And perhaps she was right. Elizabeth had a habit of being right, it was the reason I married her. She told me it was the right thing to do. I cant deny that she was right.
So where to begin? Well, they say life begins at 40, and certainly for me, that was the case. For forty years, I was nothing, did nothing, and achieved nothing. No-one knew who I was, and no-one cared. Not that anyone might care now, but I would certainly like to think a lot of people would know who I was, and when I died that I might even be remembered.
Yet what happened to me was, on the face of it, pure chance, pure fairy tale, and it could all have been so different. I hadn't really wanted to go to the Claymore game with my friend Iain that day. The season had been poor and the game was meaningless, but as he said, we had the tickets and we may as well use them. We lost the game, but then that wasnt a surprise, and so it was not a happy crowd of people who left Hampden that afternoon, and perhaps that why few of them paid little attention to the BBC film crew outside the ground.
If I hadnt stopped to tie my laces, if we had left the ground a few minutes earlier to catch the train, if we had left a few minutes later, then none of what was about to happen, would have happened. And sometimes, that really scares me. But only sometimes.
The BBC crew were at Hampden to discuss the state of the Scotland national team, and Chic Young was trying to ask the passing crowd what they thought of Berti Vogts. Of course, most of the reaction was negative, and as one fan remarked, any bloke off the street could do a better job.
As I passed Chic, he turned from having passed on the fans comment to the then SFA chief, David Taylor, and stuck the mic in my face. 'Could you do a better job than Berti?' he asked me chirpily.
'I expect so.' I replied, feeling a bit confused 'but then Im never going to have the chance am I?'
Except I was wrong.
Iain was furious when he found. Had Chic Young chosen him, and not me, then it would be him who would be standing, a few weeks later, at the Hampden main doors, being unveiled as the new Scotland manager. It would be his face that would be plastered in all the major daily newspaper, and his name that was ringing out throughout the land. And perhaps, in some other reality, it was. But here, in the only reality that counted, I, Stuart Redmond, just some bloke off the street, had been appointed to manage to national side.
I dont think too many people were overly amused...
The fact was, even though I might like to kid myself otherwise, I knew absolutely nothing about managing a football team. I should never have taken this job, but really, who in their right mind could turn down such an offer. It might have, and indeed did, seem ludicrous to the press that the SFA should appoint someone like me to such an important position, and in all honest, I never did find out the full reasons why. It can’t just have been to prove a point, and it can’t just have been a bet. Whatever the reasons, they are largely irrelevant now, the fact is, I was appointed manager of Scotland and that is history.
Once reality had sunk in, I soon realised that I was in quite a bit of trouble. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, how to do what it was I didn’t know what I was doing. I realised I would need to bring in some people who knew more about this thing than me, and not just to show me the ropes. It would be damned hard to get professional footballers to play for a nobody, and quite a few had already stated they would not be willing to play for Scotland under my charge. I was beginning to find a little bit of sympathy for Berti. But not much.
And so I decided to turn to some of the best footballing brains in the land. I handed the Under 21 job to Walter Smith, the Under 19’s to John Brown, and asked Gordon Strachan to be my assistant. With such respected people around me, my job was made that bit easier, and there many in the press who have you believe that all the work was done by Gordon and Walter, but that is far from the truth. I may not have had the experience, and I knew I needed all the help these guys could offer, but if I was to last more than one game in this job, I knew that I had to impose my own authority on the team. I had to be the one calling the shots.
It wasn’t easy, but as I pointed out to the players, they weren’t playing for me, they were playing for Scotland, and that alone should have been enough for them to give it everything they had. They should be proud to play for their country, and for the most part it seemed they were. The refusal of some players to play for me, simply allowed others to come in who in reality possibly should have been nowhere near the Scotland squad, such Bob Malcolm, and young Rangers starlet Charlie Adam. Yet these were to turn out to be two of the most consistent players during my reign.
My first match in charge, as it would happen, should have been the opening qualifier for the 2006 World Cup at home to Slovenia, but the SFA hastly arranged a friendly to take place a few days before that at home to Montserrat, a match the press said was a waste of time, but which in reality was vital for me and the players to get to know a few things about each other. The match was easily won, 5-0, at a canter, as you would expect against the worst ranked team in the world. But it had given us a bit of confidence, and we looked forward to the qualifiers, hoping we could shut the idiots in the Scottish Press up.
Very few people gave us much hope of beating Slovenia. They were far from the best team in the world, but they did have a few useful players, and we, according to the media, did not. Add to that a manager who simply didn’t have a clue what he was doing, and you had a recipe for another Scottish disaster. The press it seemed, were eagerly looking forward to such an event, and one would almost believe they really wanted the team to fail. But that couldn’t be right, could it?
Fortunately for me, there were some players who were willing to play for Scotland no matter who was in charge, and although the team that took to the field for my first meaningful match was not what a lot of people might have wanted, it was nevertheless a team of players who wanted to win for their county. That first ever line up was.
David Marshall; Peter Canero, Steven Pressley, Phil McGuire, Steven Hammell; Barry Ferguson, Derek Riordan, Gareth Williams; Garry O’Connor, James McFadden
By half time, it was still goalless, and although we hadn’t played badly, we hadn’t played particularly great either. Slovenia were proving tough to break down, and we simply weren’t getting any luck in front of goal. Riordan and McGuire had both been fairly appalling in that first 45, and at half time I decided to replace them with Andy Webster and young Rangers starlet Charlie Adam, which came as a huge shock to him, and the stunned crowd inside Hampden.
Yet two minutes into the second half, the still 18 year old midfielder was heavily involved in the opening the goal, which Gareth Williams thundered home from the edge of the area, and Hampden erupted probably more with relief than anything else. As the confidence grew on the park, so we looked better and better, and it was little surprise when James McFadden added a second on 68 minutes. Yet being Scotland, we had to do it our own way, and with four minutes left some slack defending allowed the Slovenians a way back into the game, as they threatened to steal a point. Just over a minute later though, Garry O’Connor grabbed out 3rd, and we held on for a win that made the press eat their words.
Of course, it was just beginners luck they said, and besides, Slovenia weren’t that good anyway, and pretty soon the side would be found out for just how poor they really were. There was nothing like the Scottish press for bringing you back down to earth with a bang, but the reality was, they just made us more determined to succeed.
The harder test of course, would come against Norway. They were surely a better side that Slovenia, and the lack of experience in my squad, as well as my own lack, would surely lead to Scotland failing, and then we could all get back to reality and look for a real manager. And indeed, eleven minutes into the game, the press got their wish, as John Carew sent Norway ahead, and this wasn’t quite the start we had been looking for. Two minutes later though, Garry O’Connor pulled us level, and as the match wore on, both sides did have their chances, but it seemed as though a draw was the only result possible.
And in the end, it was the result, but not before Darren Fletcher had sent us ahead with eight minutes left to play, and had us believing that we were about to pull off another three points. That joy and belief though lasted less than 30 seconds as Norway were to go straight up the park and equalize, and at the end of the day we had to settle for a point. It was a decent enough performance, but the fact is a home draw against Norway isn’t really good enough. Still, at least it gave the press something to whine about.
Our final qualifier for 2004 was our first away match, in Moldova. A potential banana skin, the kind of match Scotland should win, but inevitably don’t, and it was here the media claimed we would be truly found wanting, and once more the Scottish footballing public would be left humiliated. It was in this match though that young Charlie Adam finally made himself fully known to the Tartan Army, as he turned in a quite exceptional performance, bagging two goals in the first fourteen minutes, as for once a Scotland side did what they should do against inferior opposition, and in the end we ran out six nil winners, and there wasn’t really a lot to be unhappy about.
Of course the real test would come next March, when we would go to Italy, but for now we had to be happy. We had taken seven points from nine, and were still in contention to qualify. It could have been a whole lot worse, and we had to be satisfied with what we had done so far. We rounded off 2004 with two friendlies, both at home, to Armenia and Sweden, both of which were won by us 4-0. Certainly there was reason to be pleased once more about being a Scot, but no-one was getting carried away just yet. There was still a lot more convincing to be done, but as 2004 came to an end, I had the feeling the players, and the fans, were starting to accept me as a bone fide manager, and were starting to forget that I really wasn’t. Of course, there were always people in the media to remind me of this fact, and to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground.
Before we took on Italy, New Zealand came to Hampden for a friendly, and Charlie Adam took them for a ride, as he hammered home five goals in our incredible 8-0 victory. It was therefore on somewhat of a high that we travelled to Milan, confident that we could bring back at least a point, against an Italian side who had already lost at home to Norway. And if Norway could beat them, there was little reason to believe we couldn’t take something here as well.
Perhaps we were a little naïve in such beliefs, and found ourselves trailing to Massimo Oddo goal after 17 minutes, and fell further behind nine minutes into the second half, and my unbeaten record as a football manager looked as if it was about to fall. Derek Riordan did give us a glimmer of hope on the hour, but a late strike from Vieri made it three one for the Italians, and we had been put firmly in our place. I felt sure we had improved as a team, and although the reality was that Italy were still a very good side, perhaps the fact of our own improvement could be measured by the depth of our disappointment at the loss.
We had to wait three months for our next games, in June of 2005, and despite a less than polished performance, we overcame Moldova at Hampden by 2-0, before heading off to Belarus. They would have little chance of reaching the Finals the following year, but nevertheless would have a big say in who did go there, and on reflection our goalless draw was probably a decent result, although it didn’t actually feel like it at the time.
With Italy coming to Hampden, and then our game in Norway, September would prove to be the pivotal month in our bid to qualify for the 2006 World Cup. If we could win over Italy, and take at least a point in Norway, we had a chance of securing at least a play off place. However, if we failed to take anything in these two matches, then our dreams would be over, and I would probably have been out of a job. I had no doubt the SFA were waiting eagerly to get rid of me, and install a manager who had a reputation.
Yet as poor as we had we had been in Italy, so we put in one of the best performances ever seen by a Scotland team, as we ripped the Italians apart, running out 4-1 winners, thanks to a hattrick from Garry O’Connor and yet another goal from Charlie Adam. The result finally made people sit up and realise that the Scots were back as a team to be reckoned with, and I would like to think gained me a bit of respect as a manager. It also put a huge dent in the Italian hopes of going to Germany.
When we played Norway at Hampden, we had found them a handful, and had probably been lucky to get a draw, but the truth is in the return the Norwegians were no match for us. Confidence was high and the 3-0 win set up to win the group, although that was by no means guaranteed. And indeed, a disappointing 1-1 draw with Belarus at Hampden left us still needing to take something from Slovenia in our final match, although it was fairly certain we would at least make the play offs.
Having played so well against the Italians and Norwegians though, we felt we more than deserved to win the group, and we were determined that there would be no slip ups. In a thrilling match, Charlie Adam sent us head within thirty seconds, but just over a minute later Slovenia were level again. Any late comers had already missed a great deal of action, and that set the pattern for the game. Steven Pressley sent us back ahead on 14 minutes from the penalty spot, but once more Slovenia were level quickly, and if things didn’t go our way in the other games, it was by no means certain a draw would be enough. As it turned out though, it would have been.
Two minutes from the break O’Connor sent us into the lead for the third time, and when Pressley netted a second penalty just after the hour, we looked Germany bound for sure. Still, in typical Scottish fashion, we had to make things difficult for ourselves as Slovenia scored a third, but frantically we held on, and we beaten the odds to pip Norway as group winners, and the disaster for the Italian of them not even qualifying.
It had been an eventful campaign, in which we had shown that even if we didn’t have the best team on the planet, we had the determination to roll up our sleeves and battle when the chips were down, and apart from the game in Milan, we had performed to our very best, and now we would reap our rewards in the Finals.We finished 2005 with a couple friendlies, on the dates that were reserved for the Play Offs. A 4-2 win in San Marino was far from impressive, and a 2-2 draw at home to Cameroon was a huge let down, but these were meaningless games and did little to dampen the enthusiasm that was building in the Tartan Army, especially when the draw for the Finals put us in with Argentina, Belgium, and the United Arab Emirates. A group that we could surely get second place from, and finally kill off our World Cup jinx.
Then again, better Scotland sides than us, allegedly, had failed when the chips were down, and many in the media saw no reason why we should do any different. We still had a lot of convincing to do……..
For those who like that sort of thing, here are some details about the game file being used. This is of course FM05, and I have all English & Scottish leagues running plus both Icelandic leagues and also the top leagues from Spain and France.
I didnt intend for this to be a story, but as the game progressed it made itself into one. The actuall game is ahead of the story, and the intention is to write this as a look back over someone's career. Although it is likely the story will catch the game up, the style will remain as a look back story.
The Diary of a Nobody. 
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