THE first time Brechin City Football club crept into my consciousness was so long ago, “Only an Excuse” was considered a comedy.

Not only did we not laugh, and an awful lot it must be said, at the wit of Phil Differ’s writing and spot-on impressions courtesy of Jonny Watson and Tony Roper, the programme was broadcast on a contraption called a radio.

For those under the age of 40, that’s the trendy looking box which sits, untouched and unappreciated, on top of your fridge.

The segment began with Watson’s perfect tribute to William McIlvanney who, when speaking of the glory Scottish football brings to humanity, takes us on a tour of Brechin’s Glebe Park.

And as anyone who has visited the boutique Angus ground, it’s not a particularly long tour.

The unmistakable voice of the bold Willie begins rhyming off legends from the club’s history, a list which end with that famous tricky winger “Trialist.”

It’s then over to Roper who recalls the fictional Brechin manager “Mr Stark” described, and for me this is one the best comedic lines of them all as: “One of the immortals . . . of course he’s deid noo.”

The early OAE couldn’t leave Brechin alone. The club, after all, had Scotland’s longest serving janitor who recalled the Double season of 1911/12 when the team “won a game in the league, and then went on to win a game in the cup, which no Brechin side had done before.”

Of course, it’s easy enough to make fun of Brechin City. After all, they’re an afterthought, some tiny outfit which put the in in provincial. I mean, a hedge runs a good length of the ground.

And since Flicks nightclub closed down – once visited by the Hitman and Her no less and now tragically on the local council’s “buildings at risk” register – it’s one of the few things proud Brechiners have.

But, actually, this isn’t true at all.

Brechin City are not only one of the better run of all our 42 senior clubs but it is one close to my heart. You see, as a rookie hack dispatched to that part of the world, my remit was to cover the ups and downs of Brechin City.

This was, as I am sure you all remember with huge fondness, the 1993/94 season which found the part-time club in the old First Division where they struggled somewhat. League reconstruction had helped them, as it so happened, and they were fighting way above their weight.

And this is not the only time they have done so. Right now, Brechin are in League One, a division they have no right to be in.

They were Division Two runners-up in 2002/03 and won the title two years later. Promotion was gained last season via a play-off under the guidance of big Darren Dods. 

The prefix of big is compulsory.

Raith Rovers, a full-time club, were defeated before a penalty shoot-out win over Alloa Athletic took them into the Championship.

As far as I am aware, Brechin have never been burdened by debt because they live within their means, enjoy far better days than bad ones, and the board know how to spot a manager of some potential.

Michael O’Neill, anyone?

And there was also one Steven Mitchell, a lifelong fan, local journalist and occasional club director.

He once claimed, and why would anyone lie about this, that in ten years he had missed something like half a dozen Brechin games. 

He tended to be at all the home reserve matches as well.

Mitch was a dreamer, liked a drink, talking utter nonsense, mostly about football, and was simply a top-notch bloke. We got on enormously well.
Even after I left the area, we spoke every day. He enjoyed his jaunts to Glasgow where we would disappear together into the night to find some mischief.

We lost touch for a few years, it happens, but thankfully the relationship repaired itself and we spoke frequently with promises of meeting up for a beer before I moved abroad in 2010.

Within a year, and at the age of only 42, Steven was gone. 

As chairman Ken Ferguson said: “The club as a whole have lost a good man, a great friend too many, a true and loyal supporter. He will be greatly missed.”

Yeah, just a bit.

Mitch’s loved for his local team, his house genuinely overlooked the entrance to Glebe Park, made you love Brechin a bit as well. 

He would have been thrilled to bits to watch his team at Parkhead this Saturday in the Scottish Cup because, and I’ll reveal this now, he had a bit of a soft spot for Celtic.

Celtic will undoubtedly win by a handful, but that’s not really the point. A good club will earn a few bob to keep them going, a hard-working board will get the chance to sit in the posh seats and the fans, a small, loyal and more than a bit barmy bunch, are sure to enjoy their day out.

This is a club which deserves any good fortune which comes its way. I’d love them to give Celtic a scare.

I just wish my pal was there to see it.

Steven Mitchell, you see, was one of the immortals.