Meet the Scots pensioners proving that age is just a number

The fearless Piranhas – the majority of whom are pensioners – recently launched a recruitment drive. While there is no upper limit, players must be over 45.

They have four octogenarians with a combined “ice age” of 330. The eldest is Robert Grieve, 86, with team-mates Jim Morrison, 84, alongside Bill McBirnie and Albert Pediani, both 80, not far behind.

Pediani, a retired businessman from Ayrshire, is among the veterans. After playing ice hockey in his teens, a hiatus of several decades followed. “When I was 17 I discovered cars and girls – so that was the end of that,” he laughs.

It wasn’t until almost 40 years later when his son, Ian, took up ice hockey that the fire was reignited. That was 1993 and he’s still going strong. Well, aside from a recent bout on the bench …

“Hockey keeps me fit, although I’ve been out of action recently,” he says. “I had an operation for kidney stones in December and another one earlier this month. As soon as I get the all-clear I’ll be back playing – I need my fix.”

Among the regulars is Morton Campbell, 72, a retired engineer from King’s Park in Glasgow, and Dougi Berry, 67, a former transport manager from Troon, Ayrshire, who have been members for seven and 14 years respectively.

Technically, they play a “non-contact” game with none of the bone-crunching body checks often seen in professional ice hockey.

Mention this, however, and it prompts much guffawing. “Aye, well it’s meant to be non-contact,” says Pediani with a chuckle. “But it never quite works out that way … I’ve had a broken nose and two split lips.”

“You can’t deliberately bump into someone but it does happen – after all, you’re on a slippery surface chasing a puck,” adds Campbell. “I got a bruised bursa in my hip a couple of years ago. That was very painful and took six weeks to heal.

“One of our players recently bumped into another player who then fell on top of him. Joe injured his shoulder and was off the ice for two or three weeks.”

Although as Berry cheerily points out: “It’s not violent contact – it’s accidental. It’s a fast sport and some of the players can’t stop very well. There are inevitably collisions.”

Yet, while there may be bumps and bruises, the curative powers of ice hockey, it would seem, are remarkable. “Everyone has some sort of health complaint – when you get to 65, you start to get aches and pains,” says Campbell. “The funny thing is, though, once you put the hockey gear on, you tend to forget about them.

“I have osteoarthritis and it is painful walking, but the minute I step on to the ice the pain disappears. My doctor told me that it must be when I put my foot down to skate it glides, rather than jars as it does when I take a step.”

All three give short shrift to the notion that we should slow down as we grow older. “Don’t bother – live your life the way you want,” says Pediani. “I never give age a thought. As well as playing hockey twice a week, I still ride a motorbike.”

Pediani, who is married to Joan, 70, and has three children and four grandchildren, recalls the success of a recent charity match for the Royal Hospital for Children in Glasgow.

“My daughter’s friend brought her son to watch and he badgered his mum to let him take up ice hockey,” he says. “I went to watch his first game. I felt proud because here was me at 80 and then this eight-year-old wanting to play – an old guy encouraging a youngster.”

Campbell goes skating with his wife Margaret, 70, as well as playing badminton and bowling.

Berry, meanwhile, is the man behind the Piranhas’ colourful nicknames. He coined affectionate monikers such as Bill “Fingers” McBirnie (on account of a reputation for broken digits), Charlie “TNK” Crangle (“two new knees”) and “Greenock” Morton Campbell (a nod to the local football team).

“They are all very proud of their nicknames,” he says. “Albert [Pediani] is a good skater, very competitive and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He spends most of his time on the ice screaming at his team-mates.

“His other trait is that he poaches goals by standing on the blue line. He does this with monotonous regularity. I nicknamed him Bla Bla for his shouting – but it also stands for ‘blue line Albert’.”

As for his own nickname? “I don’t have one,” says Berry. “I refer to myself as P48 – that’s the number on my jersey.”

The Piranhas regale me with stories of camaraderie and banter – jokingly insisting the majority isn’t suitable for a family newspaper. “Most of it is unrepeatable,” confirms Berry. “We cover the topics of the day, whether it be immigration, bombing Syria, and express our different views – usually exchanged fairly heatedly. There are lots of wind-ups and it is great entertainment.”

For some of the Piranhas, adds Campbell, the thirst for blood is stronger than others. “There are a couple of members who like to win and they take it more seriously but for most it’s just a laugh,” he insists. “Our motto is: ‘If you can’t win, cheat.’”

Berry quips: “We don’t do drug tests because everyone is on drugs – usually for arthritis. We would all fail.”

Married to Lorna, 63, Berry has three children and three grandchildren, and makes an 80-mile round trip every Friday to training, setting off at 6am. He laughs when asked what would stop him. “Well, a broken leg might slow me down a bit,” he muses.

He is equally sanguine when asked what keeps him going back. “There is always the chance you are going to score the winning goal and have your hour of glory,” says Berry. “I suppose that is an incentive because it doesn’t happen very often. It justifies the last six weeks of going if you manage to score the winning goal against a nasty bunch of pensioners.”

For more information, call Joe on 07759 966461 or Morton on 0141 649 4812.

Belle Robertson, 79, golfer

Belle Robertson didn’t swing a club until she was 15 but she hasn’t wasted a moment since. Now 79, Robertson can look back on an illustrious playing career which includes being a seven-time Scottish Ladies Amateur champion, winning the British Ladies Amateur title in 1981 and representing Great Britain and Ireland in the Curtis Cup on nine occasions, twice as non-playing captain.

Not that she is hanging up her putter, despite jokingly berating herself for a rising handicap. “It’s gone to a three now – it was two,” she says. “I’m on the slide …”

Robertson grew up in Kintyre. She cut her teeth playing at Dunaverty Golf Club near the family farm in Southend and took lessons on the famed links of Machrihanish.

“I was lucky,” she says. “In those days, your mother would send you to piano lessons or Highland dancing. I was quite good at sports – running, jumping and that sort of thing – so my mother thought I should be taught how to play golf. I got a good grounding.”

Still winning national titles in her fifties, Robertson was one of the first golfers to embrace a simple fitness regime.

She finds it hard to single out a favourite moment. “Winning a championship at St Andrews lives with you for the rest of your life,” she says. “Winning that first Scottish title, you think: ‘Gosh, I must be improving here,’ but in 10 days or so, when that fades, you think: ‘I must try to win a British championship.’”

Robertson was selected to become an honorary member of the Royal and Ancient alongside Princess Anne, Dame Laura Davies and Annika Sorenstam last year. It marked the first time in the 260-year history of the St Andrews club that it had admitted women. “It was very humbling,” she says. “To be given honorary membership is something extra special.”

After more than half a century living in Glasgow, Robertson recently moved back to Kintyre. Despite her impressive achievements, she professes to never tire of chasing perfection. “I still like to achieve my best game each time I play,” she says. “I think that comes from being super competitive.”

Her husband Ian, who passed away two years ago, was also a keen golfer, although Robertson admits he had to put up with some gentle ribbing. “It wasn’t that easy on him,” she says. “People would say: ‘Oh, can you manage to beat your wife?’” Robertson chuckles softly. “The answer is: yes, he could.”

In recent months, Robertson hasn’t been out on the fairways as much as she would have liked. “Golf has been on the back burner with moving house, so I’m looking forward to what will hopefully be a nice spring and getting to play much more often again,” she says.

“My first love is seaside golf so I’m spoiled for choice in Kintyre. I enjoy looking at the water and marram grass as I play.”

I wonder if she ever thinks of slowing down? “Oh, no,” she interjects. “Never slow down – if we slow down, we are giving up. Try to do as much as you can. I think if you feel young inside, then you are more inclined to keep doing things.

“If music starts playing, I want to dance. I can’t understand people who want to sit there and watch. Always keep young at heart. The great thing about golf is that you can play as long as you are fit enough to pick up a club – you can go on forever.”

Janet Stobie, 86, swimmer

When you’ve lost track of your medal tally, that’s usually a sign of a prolific career. Put the question to Janet Stobie and she responds with modest aplomb. “Oh, I have dozens …” she says. “I can’t quite remember the exact number.”

According to those who know her, that figure is closer to upwards of a thousand as Stobie, 86, has been a keen swimmer since she took up the sport aged 12.

She has competed as far afield as Australia, New Zealand, Canada, the US, Denmark and Sweden. The retired credit controller still swims every second day in her hometown of Dunoon and each year takes part in the Inverclyde Masters Swim Meet in Greenock.

“I do less swimming than when I was younger although I would never give up completely,” she says. “I usually swim 12 lengths but less when I’m competing.”

Stobie is a popular figure on the swimming scene where she competes in the 85-89 masters age group. A strong all-rounder, she swims freestyle, backstroke, butterfly and breaststroke.

She represented Motherwell Masters in the Scottish Masters championships as far back as 1982 and she remains the holder of 12 Scottish Masters short course records.

“When I was younger I did 1,500m but these days two lengths – that’s 50m – is what I prefer in races,” she says. “I still enjoy it. It keeps me fit and I would miss it if I didn’t swim. I’ll keep going for as long as I can.”

Scottish Swimming runs adult-only sessions at pools across the country. Visit scottishswimming.com/swim-social

Enrico Zanotti, 90, skier

Enrico Zanotti bounds up the stairs with the ease of a gazelle, leaving this 30-something trailing in his wake. But if Zanotti ascends with effortless grace, you should see him hurtling downwards – on a snow-filled piste.

The 90-year-old from Glasgow is one of Scotland’s oldest skiers and still hits the slopes at least three times each week. He has visited 53 ski resorts, travelling to Austria, France, Argentina, US, Spain and Switzerland.

“People are often surprised when I tell them I ski,” says Zanotti. “When you ski well you avoid injuries. You deceive gravity and the sense of physical achievement is wonderful.

“When I ski down beautiful slopes, I stop for a moment and it feels like I get an embrace from the sublime sound of silence. There is a silence that is moving.”

Zanotti was born in Glasgow, but spent part of his boyhood in Italy where he was given an early introduction to skiing. His father Renato, who owned the popular Grosvenor Cafe in the west end of the city, passed away when Zanotti was five.

While his mother Odilia and sister Clara remained in Glasgow to run the business, Zanotti and his siblings, Renato and Liliana, went to stay with their grandparents in a village near the ski resort of Abetone. “We were very unlucky to lose our father, but it was a marvellous village,” he says.

Zanotti learned on homemade skis under the tutelage of an Italian sporting legend. “My teacher knew I was a fanatic and introduced me to her cousin, Zeno Colo, who went on to become an Olympic and world champion in downhill skiing,” he says.

After he returned to Glasgow, his love of skiing grew throughout his teens and early twenties. Zanotti became a regular on the slopes around Scotland when skiing was still a fledgling industry. He skied at Ben Lawers in the 1940s when there was no lifts or tows and later at Glen Coe.

“Someone told me that the Scottish Ski Club was running a bus to Glen Coe,” he said. “I found a real camaraderie. Everyone was friendly and enthusiastic. Many of the skiers were engineers and they erected the first ski lift in Glen Coe.

“Before the ski lift we walked from the car park up to the plateau then skied up and down there all day.”

Among his treasured collection is a snapshot taken by world renowned photographer and fellow Glaswegian, Harry Benson, while skiing at Glen Coe during the 1950s.

“He was a good friend of mine,” says Zanotti. “He would take his camera with him when we skied. I remember we quickly combed our hair for the photograph, trying to look our best.”

Zanotti can still regularly be found zipping down black or double black diamond runs – the most difficult piste classification. He believes himself to be a far better skier today than in his youth, crediting the many hours spent every week at Snow Factor Braehead with sharpening his skills.

“Skiing at Braehead has definitely helped improve my skiing,” he says. “I was always a natural but I also fudged it for a long time.”

The Zanotti family ran the Grosvenor Cafe for 62 years until 1991. Its original tenancy on Byres Road ended with the renovation of Hillhead subway station in the late 1970s and it reopened on Ashton Lane.

The cafe was a popular haunt for students, academics and journalists as well as famous faces including bands such as Del Amitri and Orange Juice. Lloyd Cole is reputed to have written the hit debut album Rattlesnakes there.

“Our clientele was phenomenal with many well-known individuals,” says Zanotti. “The people who stole the Stone of Destiny from London were among the regulars. They told us later that they had plotted this in our cafe.”

In the coming months, Zanotti plans to visit one of his favourite resorts, Paoli Peaks in Indiana, US, where he was once a ski instructor.

He concedes to being his own hardest taskmaster. “I watched a man the other day and thought: ‘OK, he is doing turns better than me.’ So I skied for five hours, practising my turns over and over.”

He gives another hearty laugh. “When I got home afterwards I could barely walk up the stairs. I feel lucky to still get such enjoyment from skiing. I can’t ever imagine my life without it.”

For more information on Snow Factor Braehead, visit snowfactor.com