King Billy - always missed, never forgotten









That sad date has rolled around again; it seems to do so with increasing frequency as the years go by and time hurries along, ever quicker. On the 9th December 1997, two days short of his 55th birthday, our greatest captain Billy Bremner died following a heart attack after a bout of pneumonia. The Leeds United world was plunged into shock and mourning at the loss of a hero, and the game's great and good attended his funeral in Edlington. The tiny church, packed to the rafters with household names, was resounding testimony to the respect in which the wee man was held by all who knew the legend. Old comrades and old foes alike were there to say goodbye to an icon who had left us tragically young, but who had emblazoned his name across an era not wanting for stars.

Billy Bremner was quite simply a phenomenon. From the earliest days of his Leeds United career, once he had recovered from a bout of home-sickness for his native Stirling in Scotland, he was an automatic selection for the first team, unless injury or suspension ruled him out. He was a warrior, despite his diminutive size, but he was blessed with all the other attributes needed for a central midfielder on the battlegrounds of the English First Division. Skill, courage, "workrate" - as it's known these days - were combined with sheer guts, tenacity, will to win - and that indefinable x-factor that ultimately set him apart from other gifted performers. A ball-winner, a talented user of the ball once won, a relentless harrier of the opposition for the full ninety minutes plus of each grueling game - and a scorer of great goals too. Bremner was a big occasion man, a serial winner of semi-finals (Man U being his favourite victims), a man who unfailingly stepped up to the mark when his team-mates and fans needed him. He was utterly self-effacing in the interests of what was best for the team. "Side before self, every time" was his motto, and he lived up to those words for as long as he was involved in football.





Some called him dirty. And he was as capable as most other combative central midfielders of a bit of feisty skullduggery - but to define him by his occasional sins would be short-sighted in the extreme and would display, moreover, a lack of awareness of exactly what his game was all about. A consummate passer of the ball - with the neat reverse pass a specialty, flummoxing and wrong-footing many an international-class opponent - Bremner was the epitome of Don Revie's Leeds United, a team who said "If you want to play, we'll out-play you; if you want to battle, we'll out-battle you." They usually out-thought and out-psyched the opposition as well. Many a visiting player was artfully allowed a glimpse as they passed by of the sign on the home team dressing room wall at Elland Road. "Keep Fighting", it said - which was what Leeds United, guided by Don Revie off the field and Billy Bremner on it, did - and they did it better than just about anybody else.

The Sunday Times perhaps summed-up Billy Bremner as well and as succinctly as anyone. "Ten stone of barbed wire" they called him - the image of a spiky, perilous bundle of energy conjured up in five telling words. I saw an old clip on YouTube recently, grainy black and white footage of some or other game back in the day, and there had been an incident that set the players en masse at each other's throats. Bremner - unusually - must have been some way off when the flashpoint occurred, for he was nowhere to be seen with the melee already well established. And then, from the right-hand margin of the screen, came this white-clad, unmistakable figure, tiny but fierce, hurtling towards the centre of the conflict with the desire to weigh in on behalf of the team writ large in every line of his being. He was a frenetic mixture of Yosemite Sam and the Tasmanian Devil, plunging into the fray like some one-man whirlwind, wreaking his own brand of havoc. Bremner was famous, even notorious, for this - for his battle-cry of "cut one of us, and we all bleed." Billy shed blood in the United cause - usually, it must be said, not his own. But a thug he was not, and any team, any time, anywhere in the world would break the bank to have a Billy Bremner in his prime among their number. Fortunately for Leeds United, he loved the club and served it for sixteen years, becoming synonymous with the famous Whites of Elland Road. As Leeds fans, we could nominate no better candidate for the honorific title of "Mr. Leeds United". Only the great John Charles, operating in a much less successful era at Leeds and destined to win his medals on foreign fields, could come anywhere near.





My second match as a Leeds United supporter was the European Cup semi-final, first leg against CF Barcelona, Johann Cruyff, Johann Neeskens and all. Those two Dutch masters, with all the other glitterati of the Catalans' world-class line-up were expected to have too much for a United side on the cusp of just dipping over the hill. The previous Saturday, I'd made my first visit to Elland Road and had seen us lose to Liverpool. I was all agog at the atmosphere, and didn't really care about the result - I just wanted more.





So it was that my first ever Leeds United goal came to be scored by Billy Bremner himself, the greatest player in the greatest team United ever had. A long ball from Johnny Giles, headed down by Joe Jordan, found King Billy in enough space on the edge of the area at the South Stand end. He measured the situation, took aim and rifled the ball superbly, well wide of the helpless keeper, into the top left-hand corner. The din was deafening, like nothing I'd ever heard before, and rarely since. "And Elland Road erupts" intoned David Coleman for the BBC, when he could make himself heard. The image of the small, red-headed giant belting that ball home will live with me to my last day. I've always been proud that my first goal was scored by King Billy. I feel as though, in a funny way, I own that goal.





Leeds United's first match after the death of Billy Bremner was away to Chelsea, the kind of fixture that Bremner used to relish. It turned out to be a game that couldn't have been more of a tribute to the departed Billy if someone had designed it so. United had two men sent off in what might be termed a feisty encounter, and with nine warriors left, and inspired by the memory of The Greatest, they battled, scrapped and fought their way to a 0-0 draw in the finest traditions of the Leeds United of old. The travelling hordes in Leeds colours were fully aware of the significance of the occasion. "Nine men and Billy....we've got nine men and Billy!", they sang, loud, proud and raucous. "Billy Bremner's barmy army" got many a refrain as well. The fans had said farewell to the Captain of the Crew in a manner hugely identifiable with the man himself and with the fighting traditions of the great side he led with such distinction. As far as these things can be, it was deeply fitting, and those who remembered Billy gave a knowing nod of appreciation.





RIP Billy Bremner. Departed far too soon, 16 years ago today, and greatly missed still. It's unlikely we'll ever have another quite like you.