WHEN MY wife and I told friends what we'd called our son, a text came back: "White Rat or Woof?"
White Rat was Steve Archibald's nickname among Hibs fans who didn't appreciate his deeper-thinking play. (Oh, for some now). And Woof? Well, this man, too, hasn't always been loved wherever he's gone. But similarly, his status has grown in recent yea
rs as the football scene has diminished. He is of course Archie Macpherson and, no, our wee boy wasn't named after him, but that doesn't mean I don't have huge respect.
"Doesn't mean I don't"? Isn't that a double-negative? Macpherson – schoolteaching was his proper job – would never use one of those, not even as a jokey description of Rangers during last season's anti-football experiment. In all his time as a presenter, commentator and pundit, Archie has never cracked a gag. And now he's gone, or at least going. He'll be remembered by many for "Woof!", his comic-book exclamation of a belting goal, but now's the time, methinks, for a proper appraisal.
In my youth you were either an Arthur man, or boy, or you preferred Archie. Arthur Montford was STV, always and forever, a telly trailblazer involved with the channel from its inaugural transmission, and "trailblazer" would be a useful description for all the broadcasters who've never been able to match his checked jackets, pride in the hameland (to a dawdling Gordon McQueen: "Watch your back!"), and the dependable persona of a hardware store manager. Most recently Archie has been STV, too, and it's from there that he's been given the heave-ho – a consequence of the manning of Champions League matches switching to Setanta – but his glory years were with BBC Scotland.
And glorious they were. The Beeb in England had David Coleman; we had Archie. Both became figures of fun because of their excitability, but there was an honesty to their commentaries, schooled as they were in the Reithian tradition, and with the benefit of hindsight we soon realised that, to paraphrase Coleman, these were men who were opening their mouths and showing their class.
When was Archie ever pompous? Never, I'd say. When was he ever verbose? His style involved vocalising ellipsis. "That ball's got curl on it ... " was a favourite, back when wingers could cross (Okay, you droned on about this last week, enough now – Sports Ed). I'll tell you who's verbose these days: Craig Paterson. Doesn't he know the crucial difference between commentating for radio and doing it for TV?
When was Archie ever over-rehearsed, over-reaching for commentator-immortality or downright smug? I'll tell you who's all of these things: Clive Tyldesley. The other night, after Steven Gerrard's goal number 98 for Liverpool against Marseille, Tyldesley invited the player to go on and get a hat-trick. Archie would never have been so presumptuous, so jingoistic.
The most jingoistic he got, during a Scotland match, was the build-up to Kenny Dalglish's goal against Wales, en route to the Argentina World Cup ("There's an overlap! ... "). "Woof!" apart, Macphersonisms were collectors' items. "Ohissabar! ... " indicated the crossbar had been struck. In the riot that followed the 1980 Old Firm Scottish Cup final, he gasped: "It's like Paschendale out there! ... " This was over-the-top in every sense but, in the circumstances, understandable.
In football coverage now, as in life, everyone tries too hard to be a "personality". Archie (and Arthur, because I loved them both) achieved this without effort. Latterly on Scotsport, his fellow pundits wore bold shirts and strived for the bold opinion. Magisterial in beige support-socks, Archie simply waited his moment and brought the experience of all those years in storm-battered, scaffolding eyries to the debate. Archie ... Macpherson, I salute you (war/soldier reference unintentional).
