THERE is a modern, tedious insistence on describing life as a journey, an inclination that this observer wants to hit very hard with a rolled-up map.

It is, though, unavoidably apposite when applied to Scot Gemmill. The Scotland under-17 coach's life has been a brisk march with extraordinary signposts found in New York, Barcelona and Glasgow.

"I must tell you my Jose Parla story," says Gemmill, who has already explained why he watched Barcelona youths train for a year through a wire fence and how he decided to live in Glasgow for three months to assess the state of Scottish under-age football.

He has, too, made a diversion into why he possesses a European Cup medal, why being a nice guy might just have cost him at international level and how "Mr Clough" taught him how to play, coach and live.

But back to Parla, the Cuban artist who works and lives in New York.

"When I stopped playing my wife, Ruth, and I decided to stay in New York for six months. I am a big fan of Parla and we visited his studio. One night we were walking back to our apartment and there was this surreal moment. There was a painting lying against the wall of a building. It was just discarded, lying there. But it was not there by accident."

Gemmill rescued it from the elements. "I am certain it is a Parla. It is hanging in our house now."

Parla is an artist whose philosophy may be clumsily described as believing that art is found in the street. The discarded painting just may be a physical representation of that creed.

Whatever, it tells an irrefutable truth about Gemmill: he puts in the yards and he comes up with results.

The son of Archie of Greatest Goal Ever in the History of Caledonian Mankind fame, graduate of the Brian Clough school of football at Nottingham Forest, and a subsequently under-rated talent for Everton and Scotland, Gemmill, at 44, has now taken the Scotland under-17 squad to two international finals.

He is quiet, he is well-mannered, he is intelligent. He is also tough and has the sort of unrelenting focus that would cause a lesser man to squint.

The Barcelona jaunt is a vital piece of evidence as he willingly makes his case as a football obsessive.

He and his wife rented a house in the upmarket Pedralbes area of Barcelona five years ago and every morning Gemmill had his breakfast, climbed on to a tram and stood at a wire fence to watch Barcelona train. Not the first team, you understand. "You could only be at their training sessions with permission and I only witnessed one," he says.

Every other day he stood at the fence, almost always alone, and watched, sometimes filmed the under-age teams practise. Well, almost every other day. Occasionally, he went to watch Espanyol youngsters train.

There were lessons in all of it. "I could not believe I was the only one watching. I could not believe how lucky I was. I was doing my pro licence and I thought I had hit the jackpot," he says.

"The difference between Espanyol sessions and Barcelona was not the quality of the players. I would go as far as to say that at such a young age there is no great difference in ability. The difference was in the culture of the working environments.

"When a coach at Espanyol turned his back some of the youngsters did eight instead of 10 routines or chatted among themselves. At Barca that does not happen. At Barca they train at a higher level. That is about expectancy. It is engrained at Barca but you can replicate that, you can demand it at other clubs."

It is a culture Gemmill has brought to his Scotland post. "I speak to the players before every training session to remind them of why they are there. We think they are the best players in Scotland but they have to show it in every session."

He adds, in a telling postscript, that his confidence was enhanced by the Barcelona trip. "Everything they were doing tallied with what I believe is the right way to play football," he says.

This philosophy was formed in a classroom that would be best described as old-school. Gemmill was at his father's side when Archie watched reserve or youth matches as a Nottingham Forest coach. He was also allowed to sit on the bench as a youngster as Clough coached Forest to a glory that was gilded with a league title and two European Cups in 1979 and 1980.

"I am reluctant to say it because it sounds like a cliche but I grew up completely immersed in football. I had nothing else. I had a good career but I was never a top player but anyone who truly knew me as a player would say my biggest attribute was my brain. That was possibly a polite way of saying 'he is not strong and he is not quick' but my brain developed early through watching football matches. From 12 to about 16 years old, it seemed every night of the week I was going with my dad to watch games.

"He was there to work. I was there because I loved football and I wanted to be with my dad."

The Gemmills watched in silence. "It was a very traditional relationship," he says. "The same relationship I have with my dad now. Not a lot of conversation, but just happy to be with each other. My memory of it is that we did not discuss football in an in-depth professional manner, if anything it was the opposite in that my dad said very little but these experiences resonate with me today. They shaped my key values."

He points out that Pep Guardiola mantra of keeping possession and of winning the ball back quickly is hardly revolutionary.

"My dad was talking to me about that in a simplified way 30 years ago.''

There was also the strong, idiosyncratic and brilliant presence of Brian Clough.

"Mr Clough is definitely the biggest influence on my playing career and subsequently my coaching career," says Gemmill who played 245 games for Forest from 1990 to 1999.

"I would go further than that and say he influenced me as a person. I grew up in his company and he did not let you away with anything. You were not allowed to act inappropriately and that included the most simple things of saying please or thank you."

He believes Martin O'Neill, the Republic of Ireland manager who played for Clough at Forest, divined the essence of the manager's greatness. "Martin said that players wanted to please Mr Clough, they wanted to play for him."

Archie Gemmill certainly wanted to play for Clough on May 30, 1979, as Nottingham Forest played Malmo in the final of the European Cup in Munich. Three Scots made the starting XI: John McGovern, Kenny Burns and John Robertson. Archie Gemmill remained on the bench. The hurt was profound, the wound remains open until this day.

"My dad had been injured but declared himself fit but was not picked," says Gemmill. "I have his European Cup medal. It is not with his others. His mum had all his other medals but he handed the European Cup one to me. It was not of value to him. He did not play. I understand that."

This sympathy with a father, this empathy with a fellow winner is soon replaced by that sliver of ice that lies in the heart of a football professional. Gemmill had been replaced in the team by Ian Bowyer and the son says: "I watched the game recently and Bowyer was man of the match so Mr Clough made the right decision."

There is no personal animus in this, no dig at a more famous father, just a professional assessment, evenly delivered.

Gemmill, the younger, experienced his own desperate disappointment. He was in the Scotland squad for the European Championships in 1996 and the World Cup in 1998. "I did not kick a ball," he says. "It was not nice."

He did not sulk, he did not give interviews laced with resentment. He stayed, trained, ate and was a perfect squad member. He agrees that his personality may have worked against him. "I was easy to manage, I would not cause a problem."

This is all part of a subdued character, at least in public. He says he is an introvert, a "very private person".

How then could he contemplate a career in a profession that bristles with confrontation and is played out under media floodlights?

"I am very confident in my footballing intelligence. I did question whether my character was suited to being a manager. The main observation from many is that introverts do not make great leaders.

"I completely disagree with that now but five or six years ago I did question whether my personality was suited to it. It is only as I have developed as a coach that I realise I think I was wrong to think that.

I am not comfortable doing something unless I am confident I can do it well."

This belief is now deeply embedded. "My ambition is limitless," he says quietly. "I have no agent and no great profile but I want to progress my career. I want to take my methods into a club."

He has continued to surprise his father. He has conversations with him on the sporting and psychology books he devours but Gemmill Sr remains a sceptic, not least about his son's travels.

After the New York residency and the Barcelona foray, Gemmill Jr decided to rent a flat in the West End of Glasgow so he could assess the state of the Scottish game at every level.

"I told my dad what I was doing and he just looked at me as if I was a spaceman," he says.

His first trip produced a dividend. "We moved in on the Thursday and on the Saturday I went to a St Mirren youth game at 11am. I Googled the game and where it was to be played. The first person I saw was Billy Stark. After asking me what I was doing there, he invited me to travel the next week to Hungary with the under-19s. That was my door in."

The son of a famous father has now been successful with the under 17s though the European Championships last month brought three defeats for the Scots.

Gemmill, though, came back with a rallying cry to his young troops to realise that there are fine margins at the top of the game.

He walks his own path. The obligatory photograph is taken with him during our chat with the background of his father's goal against Holland in the World Cup of 1978, one of the staging posts of a walk around the Scottish Football Museum.

Asked if he ever becomes tired of having his father as a constant travelling companion in interviews, he replies softly but convincingly: "No."

There is a moment's silence before he breaks into his Parla story and then explains he must leave. "I have a match to watch in Forfar," he says. Another day, another journey.