Alan Davidson

That may seem somewhat derogatory but when 6ft-plus Alan, clad in long black overcoat, black hair tucked under an incongruous dark wide-brimmed hat, complete with furrowed brow and menacing expression, bore down on you, it didn't seem all that outrageous. If truth be told, he rather enjoyed the notoriety.

It was an image exacerbated by his deep dismay in later years at what he saw as the deterioration of the sportswriting art and the disappearance of the close ties which once existed, despite many internecine rammies, between the football purveyors and the pen-pushing squad.

Aside from his training stint at the Kilmarnock Standard as a young man, Alan was unusual in that he spent all his life working for one newspaper, the Evening Times, starting as a sub-editor, then junior football reporter before eventually reaching the top spot as chief sports writer.

He followed a long line of top Evening Times professionals such as Gair Henderson, Peter Hendry, Malcolm Munro, Jim Blair and Hugh Taylor and was still turning out fluent, highly individual commentaries until shortly before his all-too- sudden demise.

Highly individual would be as good a way as any to describe Pod, as he became known when the acronym took over the original nickname. In his later years, his tough, no-nonsense image was partnered by an apparently grumpy persona, both of which he rather liked to display, yet anyone who knew him well was aware that he revelled in the roles. If he flitted easily between a Humphrey Bogart and a Victor Meldrew, neither was kosher.

With those he knew well, he was a great companion, a well-read conversationalist and a man of strong opinions, politically and otherwise. He liked good company, good food and good drink, and for many years he and his late buddy, Ken Gallacher, formerly of the Daily Record, Sun and The Herald, indulged their splendid taste in all three as they toured the world on football business.

Like Ken, Alan was an avaricious reader with catholic taste but a penchant for American writers from whose work he could, and did, readily knit quotes into his epistles.

His Times sports desk colleagues, all considerably younger, loved to "wind him up" to extract a rant but in fact he enjoyed their banter and invariably played the part expected.

A former committee man, he was a staunch supporter of the Scottish Football Writers' Association, although it would be true to say that he was not enamoured of the idea that the fair sex should be invited to the Player of the Year dinner.

His own guest list for that grand annual occasion was long and interesting. His football invitees were headed by perhaps his closest friend in football, Walter Smith, the Rangers and former Scotland manager, as well as Professor Stewart Hillis, eminent heart specialist and Scotland's international team doctor.

Away from the game, his regulars included another close friend in Jimmy Reid, author Willie McIlvanney and politician Tommy Sheridan, a trio that made for lively conversation, especially as Alan was a committed socialist.

A multitude of Davidson tales could be told, but one which I would suggest reflects the facade that was his Humphrey Meldrew performance. A number of us were returning from a rare football writers' day out when some fine fare had been swallowed and, as ever with Scots, on the bus a sing-song developed.

To my surprise, Alan got up to give us a ditty, and to my utter astonishment this cynical, tough old hack gave a fine rendition of Two Little Boys.

Let me finish on a very personal note. Last Hogmanay, when my wife and I were celebrating New Year in a friend's home, I received a text message which said: "Happy New Year. Thinking of you at this time. Alan."

I didn't recognise the number but I knew it couldn't be Davidson. One, such public sentiment was not his way.

Two, the chances he could text were 100-1 against, as he found new technology less comprehensible than the theory of relativity.

However, after a couple of days, I plucked up the courage to phone him and discovered it was indeed this Alan who had sent the text. It is a message I will always cherish.

Alan, who was married and divorced many years ago, found a perfect soulmate in his long-time partner, Marie. Alan Davidson's funeral will take place at Dalnottar Crematorium, Clydebank, on Thursday, August 23 at 1.30pm.