How a phonecall to Tennessee led to a fascinating interview
“Morning Alan, have you got anything on today?” was the slightly accusatory enquiry from my then sports editor one Monday morning in February 2014. This emailed nudge from my boss – translation: you jolly well should have something on today! – set in motion a chain of events leading to an interview that sticks in my mind above almost all others.
As my memory has it, within 24 hours I was chatting to Eddie McCreadie, the Chelsea full back and later manager. His death aged 85, which was announced on Tuesday, made me enormously sad.
We never actually met. Since it was FA Cup week, Colin, said sports editor, suggested something on the upcoming tie between Chelsea and Manchester City. A good place to start, he said, could be contacting Eddie McCreadie, who ticked several boxes. He used to play for Chelsea, won the FA Cup with them and, most importantly of all, it meant, in newspaper parlance, we could put a kilt on it. Yes, he was Scottish.
Eddie McCreadie passed away earlier this week. He was an iconic figure for Chelsea.placeholder image
Eddie McCreadie passed away earlier this week. He was an iconic figure for Chelsea. | Getty Images
He also memorably almost knocked Billy Bremner’s head clean off his shoulders during the FA Cup final replay between Chelsea and Leeds at Old Trafford in 1970. All this was well and good. But a bit more investigation revealed that McCreadie was now something of a recluse. Despite the fact he was loved by the fans, who still sang about him, he hadn’t been back to Stamford Bridge since the late 1970s. He hadn’t seemingly done any interviews for almost as long. Also problematic was the fact he now lived in the States.
Maybe easier getting Pat Nevin, I think I probably suggested, or any of the number of other more contactable Scots who once played for the Stamford Bridge club. But I persisted. As Pat himself would recognise, there’s something alluring about a bit of mystery, whether surrounding a musician or a footballer. Low profile feeds intrigue and tends to produce a better story.
I confess, I didn’t know as much about McCreadie as I probably should have done. Of all the XI who played and beat England when Scotland claimed to have become ‘world champions’ in 1967, McCreadie, was the one I knew least about.
The famous kung-fu kick
But it didn’t take much research before realising he was someone who deserved maximum attention and respect, on the field and off it. Bremner could attest to that. The aforementioned challenge still racks up views on YouTube. McCreadie comforted his fellow Scot while he received treatment. “That surely had to be dangerous play,” notes Brian Moore, the commentator, after McCreadie kung-fu kicks Bremner into the following week. It didn’t need VAR to confirm that Leeds warranted a penalty but play nevertheless raged on.
A brief scan of the picture archives unearthed images of McCreadie looking seriously cool during his short stint as Chelsea manager: sheepskin coat, large aviator sunglasses and heap of curly hair. He resembled the mid-1970s era Bob Dylan if Bob Dylan had been born into poverty in Cowcaddens in Glasgow and played left back for East Stirlingshire. McCreadie swapped the Scottish Second Division for Chelsea, then in the English second tier. He made his debut v Rotherham and didn’t lose his place in the Chelsea side for 12 years, picking up 23 caps in the process.
So plenty to talk about, then. If I only knew where to start trying to find him. A bit more digging revealed he was now based in Tennessee and that his second wife, Linda, owned a quilts shop in Jonesborough, a little town in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.
Chelsea and Arsenal players pay tribute to Eddie McCreadie.placeholder image
Chelsea and Arsenal players pay tribute to Eddie McCreadie. | AFP via Getty Images
I found a phone number for the shop and if memory serves, Linda herself answered. She was lovely but didn’t sound too hopeful. “I will tell him you phoned but he doesn’t do a lot of interviews these days,” she told me. Thrillingly, he phoned back. It might even have been that same afternoon. I know from emails that I spoke to him on 11 February and can still remember the sun streaming in the large windows on an early Spring afternoon in what was The Scotsman canteen at the time. The conversation got quite intense in places. McCreadie had found God.
“If you are a Christian, that means you believe there is a heaven, right?” he said. Er, right. “And that means we are going to another world. And we are going to live there for thousands and thousands of years with the Lord Jesus, right? That is what the bible tells us. That is what the bible tells us. Is there anything more important than that? Is soccer more important? Is Chelsea? I don’t think so. There is nothing more important than that – if you are a Christian, that is.” It was certainly very different to listening to a manager intoning about his squad’s injury ailments, a more common interview experience for a sports writer.
Then 73, he informed me had been baptised eight years earlier and had given up drinking alcohol in the late 90s. He had woken up in a Memphis jail after being picked up for drink driving and quit that day. He briefly played for and then managed Memphis Rogues in the late 1970s. He now lived on a 500-acre farm.
‘Nothing to do with a car’
When the line cut out, I imagined that would be it. He wouldn’t call back having already said enough. But no, he phoned back after switching phones, with the battery of his cordless having died. There were some things he still wanted to impart.
“I love Chelsea, Alan, please put that in,” he told me. There was a surprise parting of ways in the summer after he took Chelsea back up in 1977. Finances were tight at the club at the time. They had just completed a giant three-tiered cantilevered stand on the east side of the ground. There were also rumours of a falling out about a club car. This detail seemed to feature prominently whenever the subject turned to McCreadie. “I know you have to ask about that,” he said. “Everyone has that wrong, it was nothing to do with a car.”
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There had been a falling out, he conceded. He wasn’t happy and so he left. He didn’t discount the idea of going back although he stressed that part of his life was over. He did finally return to Stamford Bridge in 2017 following the publication of a book, Eddie Mac Eddie Mac. The fans had their answer to the song they still sometimes sing: ‘Oh Eddie Mac, when are you coming back?’ But whether he ever made it back to Scotland, I am not sure. He suggested to me he had not set foot in his home country since he last played for Scotland at Hampden in an 8-0 victory over Cyprus in 1969, although this claim seemed a lot less convincing than his American drawl.
Before he rang off, he asked me to promise him two things. One, to make sure I told “everyone over there that Eddie McCreadie called you back”. Politeness was of paramount importance to him. And two, if I ran into any of the old guys, like John Greig, Billy McNeill and Willie Henderson, all old Scotland teammates, to make sure I told them that Eddie McCreadie just wanted to say hello.