THERE ARE two things about Hibs that make Hearts fans laugh. Actually, I've a sneaking feeling there are more than two, but for now let's focus on our Brazilian pretensions and our literary pretensions. Today this column presents new evidence which will both delight and dismay Jambos.
First the Brazilian pretensions. Jambos think we Hibees are obsessed with Brazil, that when we string more than three passes together, we believe the move began way back in the 1950s when the Famous Five thrilled Brazilians with their attacking verve
. According to Leith legend, these displays formed the basis of a Brazilian coaching manual, and from that emerged the legendary quintet of Jairzinho, Gérson, Tostão, Pelé and Alan O'Brien… sorry, I mean Rivelino.
In darker moments, perhaps when they've just lost 1-0 to Gretna, Jambos reckon we delude ourselves to the extent that we're absolutely convinced we founded Brazil, the entire country. Of course we didn't, but we did invent bossa nova and the caipirinha cocktail – available in Tamsons and other fine EH7 hostelries – and all of us are married to the kind of beautiful Brazilian women in canary yellow itsy-bitsy bikinis who always feature in World Cup crowd-shots. Indeed I myself used to go out with Gisele Bündchen. I chucked her, but claim the credit for encouraging her to go into supermodelling.
The bad news for the Tynecastle naysayers is that it's true. The important bit, anyway. Who says so? A judge, no less, one of Scotland's top legal minds, so a trusted source. We share a local and were watching a game on TV last week when he told me about a dinner he'd helped organise: guest-of-honour, Eddie Turnbull.
"We were thrilled that Eddie talked about Hibs' tour of Brazil," revealed His Lordship. "They were playing in the Maracana – against Corinthians, I think – and he fancied he could score. 'Gie it to me, Wullie (Willie Ormond, presumably], and I'll clock it.' Eddie didn't connect properly but the ball swerved into the net. The next day the Brazilian papers were full of diagrams trying to explain this wonder goal."
So there you have it, Jambos – conclusive proof that Sugar Loaf Mountain is a man-made construction inspired by the old Easter Road slope; that Lola, the showgirl featured in Barry Manilow's 'Copacabana', started out as an erotic dancer down at Leith Docks with a 'Persevere' motto on her left bumcheek. But the good news for Jambos is that Hibs may not, after all, be the bookish types of popular myth.
Hibs are supposed to be the team of poets; Hearts of plumbers. Even the polismen who support Hibs can read – an acquaintance of mine who's a detective inspector once told me how he lost a book amid the East Stand's clamour to acclaim a goal. "Which one?" I asked. "Oh, just some Somerset Maugham short stories," replied the 'tec almost apologetically, as if Saturday afternoons and lulls in the match action were really reserved for James Joyce and Ulysses.
I suppose I've added to Hibs' literary pretensions through my own scribblings. But it was at the launch last week of the stage version of Heartfelt that I learned the awful truth about the Easter Road Book Club.
Lewis Stevenson, the young midfielder who was man of the match in the CIS Insurance Cup Final, was among the players pressed into service for the photo-op. When he told me he was reading Heartfelt, I was pretty chuffed. "Aye but I'm stuck on page 10," he said. "It's only my second-ever book. The first was about Pete Doherty. I'm not much of a reader."
What about his team-mates, had my masterwork been passed round the dressing-room? Lewis laughed. "I don't think the rest of them can even read!"
Sheer vanity made me ask these questions and as a result, Hibs' terrible secret is now laid bare. Smith shoots and mythes, and Jambos celebrate. But it's a score draw. We'll always have Brazil – and I still have Giselle's phone number.
The full article contains 688 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
