A YEAR or two back, at a post-match press conference, I addressed Craig Brown as "Bleeper" in posing a question. Later, one of the young pups who is one of our "top" football writers, asked what "Bleeper" was all about.
Brown has been known by that nickname since the late 1950s, because, after he skied a clearance in a Rangers training game, some player wag, (that's a joker as opposed to a WAG - wife and girl friend), allegedly that future giant of the Press Box, the Sunday Post's Doug Baillie said that when the ball came down it was making the same "bleep, bleep" noise as 'Sputnik', the first Russian unmanned space craft.
That tale goes to show just how long Mr Brown has been around football. Indeed, I have a book in the house with a picture of Brown, back when he was the "hottest" young talent in Scotland, captaining a Scotland Under-18 Schools XI, which also included Andy Roxburgh and a reserve from Govan High School named Alex Ferguson. Three future Scotland managers in one team - the goalkeeper, by the way, was future Hearts and Scotland back stop Jim Cruickshank - not bad.
Sadly, a serious knee injury put paid to Brown's hopes of greatness, until, in his own memorable phrase: "I was third-choice left-half at Rangers, behind Baxter and a Catholic".
Self-depreciation was Brown's defence against disappointment. He was a good Scotland manager, because, he was used to working with second-rate players, from his days at Clyde, and because, he was used to only having players under his charge part-time.
I have always found him very approachable, he has never taken football to the Shankly extremes of considering it more important that life or death. Of course, apart from a short spell at Dundee, he was never a full-timer, and, being college educated and having his brains in his head rather than his feet, a sense of proportion, all-too-often lacking in the Scottish game.
I wish him well in retirement, where doubtless he will become a welcome recruit to the Sportsound team - the traditional retirement home for former Scottish football managers.
He might also find time to rectify a couple of past omissions. Two sixtysomething widows of my acquaintance, both showing few signs of wear and tear and still, by their own admission, appreciative of the attentions of a refined gentlemen have always felt somewhat slighted; since Brown didn't "hit" on them whilst cutting a swathe through the female students at Craigie College in Ayr.
Their message is: now you've retired Craig, come back to Ayr and pay us a visit.
Whilst we are dealing in matters of the flesh - last week in the Guardian cricket blog, the story was told of the South African fast bowler of the 1930s who was a hero of the late, great, England wicket-keeper Godfrey Evans, since the Saffer had been the first player to score 100 on tour - that has nothing to do with runs-making, but refers to the fact that, on a tour of England, he bedded 100 women.
Evans will hold for all time the absolute England to Australia record - he apparently bedded a different lady every night during the then six weeks long voyage from England to Sydney during the 1950s, and threw in several matinee sessions with other ladies as well. And there was me thinking sex had been invented in October, 1964.
The Evans record makes David Boon's 73 cans of lager devoured on a Sydney to London flight look well, small beer.
BUT, I digress. I wonder, now we have an English Premiership-free last eight in the Champions League, and Spurs needed an extra time away goal to get past Inter in the Europa League - will our southern neighbours STILL insist that the EPL is: "The Greatest League In The World".
You bet they will - Sky and the English press corps have never let reality infringe on the hype.
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