All for one

So, what went wrong and why did the club move with uncharacteristic haste to propose the more unlikely appointment of Derek McInnes, a man whose recent Npower failure with Bristol City somewhat impinged upon his pedigree?

Perhaps there was a disparity in interpretations of worth. Stewart Milne traditionally has been a generous paymaster, but these days he is also obliged to recognise the existence of austerity. Maybe a potential squabble over compensation to Ross County put him off. There again, was there a reluctance in the irascible yet inspirational Adams to align himself to a cause that in recent years has proved historically short on credibility?

Alternatively, had this irascibility punctured the dream scenario? Did his conduct during and after the recent derbies with Inverness somehow reduce his own credibility? Or might those Pittodrie directors have listened to the rumblings of discontent from their own dressing room? Apparently, his confrontational style has already found unpopularity in this rather precious domain.

The law of football Omerta being applicable here, we shall possibly never know the true reason. But for me, an inveterate Aberdeen fan, the second theory is the most persuasive. I imagine Adams simply identified a better future with a club unencumbered by a tradition of befuddled thinking.

What has happened since, however, would suggest that the boardroom, in spite of a change of personnel, continues to play catch-up with innovation. When Adams disappeared so abruptly from the radar, there was a chance for it to move into a new and hopefully enlightened age by securing the services of untainted talent.

There were several candidates, notably Billy McKinlay, the effervescent coach of Fulham and Northern Ireland, and Allan Johnston, now building an impressive reputation with Queen of the South. Significantly, there was also Paul Hartley, the successful, if occasionally saturnine, manager of Alloa.

Let's go back in time. Approximately nine days prior to this remarkable volte-face, the wheels on the Adams bandwagon are rolling inexorably towards Pittodrie. I'm attempting to anticipate what happens if they are removed. Where is Plan B? Hartley has the requisite qualifications, so here I am at Recreation Park, idly admiring a black BMW. The manager travels in style, but I imagine he pays much of it out of his own pocket. Surely this cannot be a club car?

I must admit a fascination for him, ever since I saw my team being ripped asunder early in the Millennium by his energetic box-to-box play for Hearts. Craig Brown added to that fascination when I visited Pittodrie last November. Hartley somehow commanded much of the conversation. We stood in the newly-painted dressing room and the manager admitted that his former player had described it as the most inept he'd ever encountered.

Hartley had impressed Brown over the years in situations both professional and personal. Their relationship began at Euro 96, where their spheres of influence were radically different. Hartley recalls: "Craig was Scotland boss: I was a hamper boy. It was an absolutely brilliant experience." Brown identified a youngster who was very conscientious and responsive to guidance.

They rekindled that relationship, albeit in a more equitable manner, 14 years later when Brown became Aberdeen's latest cleansing agent for managerial mess (he was their 11th full-time boss since Alex Ferguson). By then, Hartley had stockpiled 25 international caps, become the club captain at Pittodrie and laid down a set of inflexible rules.

In the Mark McGhee era, for instance, when Aberdeen visited Brighton in pre-season, he sat in the hotel foyer till midnight, counting the players back in. "It was just a case of getting yourself fit," he says." That's the way I was always brought up. Pre-season is for that. It's not for going out."

The rigidity of rules, of course, can tempt any man into becoming a renegade. In February of 2011, when Aberdeen were staging their annual, undignified fight to achieve top-six status, Hartley was sent off in a defeat to Motherwell, after trying to despatch Keith Lasley into another world.

Brown's traditional, often infuriating, insistence on circumspection prevented a public flogging in the press that night, but it was a different affair in the bear pit of the changing room. The famous benignity was jettisoned. "I went right through him." he recalls. "I called him a disgrace and a f****** prick. I told him good professionals don't do things like that."

It was the aftermath to that explosion that really impressed the older man, however. Some players react unfavourably to being flayed in front of their contemporaries. Hartley denied himself the luxury of victim status: there was not even the semblance of a tantrum from him.

"It was my fault, so why sulk? I was never a sulker even when I got dropped during my career. That happened a few times at Celtic. Gordon (Strachan) would take me in and tell me he wasn't playing me because we had a Champions League game the next week. I was disappointed, yeah, but the head didn't go down. You've got to do what's right for the team. I would never show my feelings in the dressing room because it affects other people."

Little over four months on from the Motherwell incident, Brown's appreciation of the Hamilton-born midfielder rose to another level after the latter had sorely damaged a medial knee ligament. As not only Aberdeen's most accomplished player but their most highly remunerated at £2,400 a week, Hartley had a year left on his contract so, at 34, he had the impecunious club at his mercy. He chose instead to negotiate a less lucrative pay-off.

In Hartley's eyes, this was no quixotic gesture. There was another life to be lived and he was anxious to embark on that adventure. "Yeah, I could have taken the money, but I didn't want to kid anyone on. I think the body knew it was time to give up and to move on to other things."

We talk in his tiny office, where he's attempting to build a respectable football team with a finite amount of construction material. In spite of the constraints, his influence on his first managerial season has been such that Alloa fairly bolted out of the third division. Currently, they occupy second place in division two.

Now some managers, anxious to impress visiting journalists, put on an impromptu cabaret, with lots of laughter and myriad anecdotes. Hartley, apparently, doesn't believe in such variety shows, and thus we revert to the word "saturnine". There's a genuine smile in there somewhere, but it doesn't come out to play very often. Here is someone who addresses life in a sober fashion. A stand-offish, solitary man, perhaps?

"I was always totally focused," he explains. "Even when I was a teenager, I didn't want to hang out about street corners with pals – I just wanted to play football. Even now, and I've played with hundreds of guys, I've tended to stay away from the pack mentality and from making friends with lots of them. Stand-offish? I don't know about that. I was always good about the dressing room, but I liked my own company and my own friends."

He offers a can of mineral water from a small fridge. "Being here has nothing to do with money. It's about learning, getting to grips with being a manager, finding out how it works. Some do it differently by going into a bigger club, others insist on learning their trade in the lower leagues. That's what I'm doing. Ego doesn't come into it.

"You can't pick and choose your jobs. I was offered it and I wasn't going to refuse it. But let's say they get their money's worth here. I'm part-time but I work full-time. That's the way you learn. It'll not come to you: you have to make it happen."

We return to that fiery temper. There is no backing-off. "I'm usually quite calm but when I go off on one, I do it properly. I'm very passionate. The thing is you try to do anything to win a game."

Talk to him about pressure and at last you are rewarded with a smile. "I love it. Thrive on it. I didn't want to be a coach: I wanted to be a manager and accept the pressures that came with responsibility. My ambition is obviously not restricted to Alloa, but I'm happy doing this job right now. I'm not in a big hurry."

Alloa is in my past: we're back with the reality of today. Unless there's another volte-face, the installation of Derek McInnes will be completed this week. While I remain sceptical, I sincerely hope he restores Aberdeen to the heights.

The job may have come too soon for Paul Hartley, but I feel it's only a matter of time for him. You cannot begin to tell everything about a man after knowing him for a single hour. But, from my experience, all the traditional hallmarks of a great manager are there.