Diadora Van Basten Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Sorry to hear about the passing of A A Gill. I really loved the article he wrote on the 2012 Scottish Cup Final. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jambos_1874 Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Do you have a link to the article? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cathro's Laptop Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Just read it on Sky News online. 62 is far too young. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Diadora Van Basten Posted December 10, 2016 Author Share Posted December 10, 2016 Do you have a link to the article? I was actually hoping someone would post a link. I googled it but you have to subscribe to the Sunday Times to read it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gjcc Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 2NaFish's Photo2NaFish 22 Feb 2013 A review of Dougray's Day (and the steakhouse bar and grill restaurant in glasgow) by AA Gill. It only hints at his abject misery, but i like to think of dougray as just another shitey pie. So a friend called to say he?d got a spare ticket and a seat on a private plane. We were off to Munich for the ?Champions League final. Oh cruel fate. Oh cruel Scottish fate. I couldn?t. Much as I?d love to be able to chant ?Two world wars and one World Cup? over and over, I?d already committed myself to an altogether higher Corinthian contest. I was heading north in economy for the Scottish Cup final at Hampden, ?betwixt Hearts and Hibs. You effete Sassenach muckle-faced blather-shites won?t understand the signi?ficance of that. Hibernian and Heart of Midlothian are the two Edinburgh teams. Hibs are Catholic, from Leith, started by poor, mouth-breathing Irish immigrants, and Hearts are suppor?ted by upright, hard-working Protestant Scots. The twa live in the sporting shadow of Rangers and Celtic, and have not met in a final since before the Clearances. Butchershop Bar & Grill Cuisine Steakhouse Address 1055 Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow CRITIC'S RATING This was a big one, and mah friend Dougray Scott has been a lifelong Hibs fan, and, at a push, if I?d stayed in Edinburgh and if I liked football, I?d probably have been a Hearts fan. It was enough. We went up with Dougray?s missus, Claire, and his lad, Gabriel, for what they were calling the salt?n?sauce final. On the west coast, they eat their fish and chips with salt and vinegar. On the east coast, the condiments of choice are salt?n?sauce. That is, broon sauce, epicureanly cut with vinegar and a little water to get the ?consistency right. And it?s just as tongue-scouringly, moreishly vile as it sounds. The march of the two east coast armies through the lowering Glasgow day was cacophonous. Glasgow always feels like a bungalow. The sky hangs so low. The lads shouted with a guttural, furry-tongued fury. Swaggering loons, naked to the waist, with painted faces, gaped their black-toothed, plosive roars. Mostly they walked with hunched shoulders, bent heads, the stance of men habituated to rain and blows. There is something movingly pessimistic about large groups of Scotsmen. You just know this is all going to end badly. It has always ended badly. The great Cale?donian strength is humour and resolve, spat in the stony face of repeated defeat. ?It?s very real, isn?t it?? said Claire, with a tremulous whisper. Life does seem more real here. There is no stylish cushion, no prophylactic of irony, no soft and sweet words. The reality is granite and cold. The game was like a kids? after-school kickabout, 22 mottled-thighed lads running after the ball in a shin-hacking, scowling huddle, taking swipes at each other and falling over. It was the characteristic rout. The Hibees were put to the stud not prettily but relentlessly. The army of fans, like so many Scottish armies ?before them, melted away. By the time the fifth goal had gone across the line, half the stadium was ?empty. Just blowing programmes, and a handful of die-hard teuchters, keening for a tearful vengeance. Dougray took it hard, nursing his head, but I told him it was just another historic defeat to be filed away in the great lexicon of Scottish shortcomings and disappointment. The high point for me was the half-time pie in the press room. One in three ?Scottish football fans eats a pie at a match. Pies are far more the national dish than haggis. They?re made with mutton and heavily spiced with pepper and onion, ?encased in a hot-water pastry crust with a lid that sits half an inch below the side, brilliantly making a small plate to add your mash, beans or gravy. Scottish pies are like Hinduism. You can?t convert. You have to be born to them. I offered a bite of mine to Claire. She made a face like someone whose dog has inadvertently dug up a mass grave. The best pies are full of steaming, dark, unctuous, silky, pungent meat, but you never get the best pies. What you get is a pie that has a layer of slag at the bottom, a sticky puddle of textureless effluvia, and a space between this meat and the pastry roof. It?s in this space that the ?flavour seems to live as a miasma of something that might have been. The waft of dreams. The soul of a pie that never was. The hole in the hope and the emptiness in the heart. There is something very football and very Scots about pies, and I love them, ?despite myself. I love their gawky, pale, ?unkempt look, their mottled edges, their goitred bellies, and their lifelong ability to be simultaneously welcoming and ?dis?appointing. The Scotch Pie Club?s ?motto is ?Say aye tae a pie?. Which I think would make a bonny tattoo. A man travelling from Chelsea to Glasgow reduces his life expectancy by 14 years. Drop that in batter and fry it. Before the match, we had an early lunch at the Butchershop Bar & Grill on Sauchiehall Street. I haven?t eaten in the city for a couple of years and this was recommended. It could have been anywhere in the world. There isn?t a city of more than 1m people that doesn?t have at least one vaguely American steakhouse like this ? only the view from the window told you it wasn?t Cincinnati or Cape Town. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mikey1874 Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Ex Tottenham manager or something? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cathro's Laptop Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Ex Tottenham manager or something? Whit? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mikey1874 Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Whit? Someone has posted a name I don't know on a football forum Asking if he was Tottenham's manager Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Diadora Van Basten Posted December 10, 2016 Author Share Posted December 10, 2016 Someone has posted a name I don't know on a football forum Asking if he was Tottenham's manager Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tartofmidlothian Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 He didn't really get football or the fact that people from Edinburgh aren't teuchters, and he seemed bloody glad to be away from Scotland. His review of the pie was incredible, though. RIP. He was always entertaining. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
soonbe110 Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Final article in tomorrow's Sunday Times covering how he came to terms with his diagnosis. Very humorous, creative and illuminating journo/author. 62 is way too young. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cathro's Laptop Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Someone has posted a name I don't know on a football forum Asking if he was Tottenham's manager Aye, it reads like an article from an ex-football manager. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Big Slim Stylee Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 It's a great read that Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jambovambo Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 However, don't forget this : https://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/oct/26/aa-gill-shot-baboon Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gibbo Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Someone has posted a name I don't know on a football forum Asking if he was Tottenham's manager Sunday Times restaurant and TV critic. Born in Edinburgh but moved to London at an early age. Once married to Amber Rudd,now the Home Secretary. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dagger Is Back Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Only a complete and utter tosser would do something like that. Too young to go though. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Diadora Van Basten Posted December 10, 2016 Author Share Posted December 10, 2016 However, don't forget this : https://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/oct/26/aa-gill-shot-baboonI read that Jon Ronson had reckoned he was a psychopath based on the psychopath test. That article would appear to back up Jons diagnosis. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Goldstone Wonder Posted December 10, 2016 Share Posted December 10, 2016 Aye, it reads like an article from an ex-football manager. This made me laugh out loud. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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