THE PIE LIFE AND PYRAMID DREAMERS
Ambition and hunger are present among the Primal Screams at Newlandsfield
JOHN SteiNbeck’S masterpiece of the travails of Scottish fitba’ — allegedly entitled Of Pies and Men — may remain lost but its narrative was brought robustly to life in the shimmering heat of the south side of Glasgow on Saturday.
the mysterious, all-consuming world of the match pie was conspicuously represented. there was the Pie Man. And there were the Pie Shop boys, for whom Pollok is always on their minds.
there the former president of the Scottish Football Association boldly heading to the aforementioned shop for sustenance.
there was also a link to two great Roberts. Such is the innate strangeness of Scottish fitba’ it should be no surprise that the woman who sells the raffle tickets at Newlandsfield is the mother of bobby Gillespie, the singer for Primal Scream.
Such is the fan’s capacity for endurance, it is also little shock that ken Nicholson, who saw his first match at Pollok in 1948, was there, too, recalling bobby collins, the first fierce force behind Don Revie’s Leeds United, making his early moves on Pollok’s park.
but Scottish culture demands we turn to pies first. John Gall, bedecked in Darvel colours, sits on a concrete slab and reflects on what has brought him from Ayrshire to Glasgow on a day that began just after 6am.
‘i went to the office about seven,’ he says. ‘then i headed to killie because there is a new caterer there and drove up here for the match.’
Gall is president of Darvel. He is also the Pie Man, the creator of the kilmarnock pie. He has invested a chunk of his fortune into Darvel. ‘the new pitch has been completed and it cost more than £110,000,’ he says. ‘i paid up the last 45 grand of it this week.’
His side is sprinkled with former senior players and the ambition is clear. the mantra for the lower clubs in the pyramid is ‘to be the best they can be’ or ‘to find their level’.
Gall, with a drive that sells more than 13,000 pies a week, says confidently he believes three or four clubs in the West of Scotland Football League could be in the SPFL within the next 10 years. it would not be presumptuous to suggest he has strong hopes Darvel will be one of them.
the club has been the target of jibes about being the ‘money club’, fed financially by Gall and his pies. but the 57-year-old businessman points out: ‘it is self-sustaining now. We have sponsors, we have a fund-raising strategy. it doesn’t need any more of my money on a day-to-day basis.’
the club has also been buoyed by a 21st century rendition of Letters From America. two expatriates from Ayrshire saw the activity on the Darvel social media account and gave substantial donations. ‘they wish to remain anonymous,’ says Gall. ‘they are (irvine) Valley boys like myself.’
Gall’s affection for the team was nurtured by a boyhood in Galston. He became fully involved five years ago. ‘it’s all about the passion for me,’ he says. ‘it’s about the team, the fans, the committee. it is not the John Gall show.’
tHe voice is not as recognisable as the full-throated warbling of her son but it does attract attention. Wilma Gillespie, who at 81 can only be described as spry, is selling raffle tickets. And she wants everyone to know it.
Her insistent voice could never be described as a Primal Scream but she admits her grandchildren have visited the park, but not for a game. And what about bobby, her son?
‘No, he was away to London before i really got involved about 30 years ago,’ she says. She has held the post of raffle-ticket seller for about ‘three to four years’ and invests it with a passion.
‘We have to raise money to keep the club going,’ she says. She shares the socialist beliefs of her son, perhaps even inspired them. She says: ‘A local club is all about communality. it is, i suppose, a form of socialism in action. this club is run by volunteers, people who do their bit for the common good.’
Wilma was introduced to Pollok by her dad and the family ethic lives on. the clan Mccann gathers outside the changing-room prematch. Raymond, of that ilk, has been converted to Pollok by his two sons, Gavin and Stewart. both play for the Lok although they are injured and forced to watch nervously from the sidelines.
Gavin has a prestigious pedigree in Junior football, playing previously for irvine Meadow and Ashfield and has won the West of Scotland cup for his present side.
Of course, Pollok is no longer a Junior club with the change in designations in Scottish football but it retains many of the beneficial traits that invigorated that strand of fitba’.
Gavin, a right winger, has faced the insults of a generation of rabid supporters. And loved it.
‘this is a marvellous ground,’ he says. ‘Look at it. the crowd is right on top of you. the atmosphere is terrific. it’s that passion in the crowd that drives you on.’
At 30, he has played what was once called Junior for 10 years. ‘today’s a tough game but this club wants to move forward. it should be a great match.’
it is. Josh Weir’s opportunistic header after 15 minutes decides it in Pollok’s favour. it brings a smile to the face of ken Nicholson, a retired it consultant, whose 80 years is infused with Lok memories.
‘i first came here in 1948,’ he says. ‘i remember bobby collins playing
here. It was an ash park and that was supplied by the gas works from their boilers. I went on to support Third Lanark and had a dalliance with Celtic in the Jock Stein years but I have always returned here and this is where I am at most home matches.’
He brandishes his season ticket and points to the inside pages where the list of committee members is displayed. It runs all the way down the page.
‘Clubs like Pollok are run on the goodwill and time of people like these,’ he says.
IN the shadow of a humble hut, the Pie Shop Boys stake out their territory. It is where a small group of Pollok fans gather every Saturday. They are only ultras in their supreme, if subdued, passion for the club. Tam Gilliland, the immediate past president of the club, acknowledges the three Scottish Cup triumphs as the football highlights of his association with the club.
But he insists the greatest trait of Pollok lies elsewhere. ‘This is a club financed by members,’ he says. ‘People pop in to help out during the week and look at how everyone gives a hand on a Saturday.’
There is a quiet controversy about Pollok. It centres around whether the club will be given a licence if it proceeds up the pyramid because of a lack of floodlights. A natter with officials during the afternoon suggests this is a hurdle that could be overcome.
Gilliland, though, is concerned solely with the strength of the club as a force that emphasises community.
He points to Campbell MacLeod, a 60-year-old standing by his side: ‘Talk to him. He does everything around here.’
MacLeod, though, is not garrulous. He walks the walk, rather than talking the talk. He plays down the verdant beauty of the pitch he has supplied. He brushes off praise for an extraction system he has installed in the dressing rooms.
He says simply he is glad to help out. ‘This is what you have to do at clubs like this,’ he says.
Behind the Pie Shop Boys, Campbell Ogilvie, a former president of the SFA, heads for a snack. A UEFA delegate at Supercup matches and a regular attender of elite finals, Ogilvie still enjoys being a fan.
At 71, he is still playing too. ‘I am into walking football now. I told my grandson I was playing at the Emirates on Monday. He was impressed as he thought I was playing for Arsenal.’ Given the news that has filtered through from Manchester of another gubbing for the Gunners, it was hardly a far-fetched notion but Ogilvie is scheduled for the East End of Glasgow rather than the London arena.
‘I go to games regularly,’ he says. ‘It is good to see how the game is doing in the present climate.’
This climate is relentlessly sunny on Saturday. It is, too, a bright game. Pollok, solid and disciplined in pressing, deny any attempts by Darvel to show flair or impose their creative players on the match.
There is a roar of triumph from the home fans at the end of the match. There is an announcement that there were 801 souls in the ground. This is no surprise to me. They were all ahead of me in the pie queue.