FOOTBALL is all sport has ever been for me. As a player, a spectator, even as a reporter.

For half my life my weekend started by gathering with my team-mates on a sunny Saturday morning excitedly anticipating the game ahead. Well, maybe without the sunshine.

A typical Saturday would be playing for the 167 BB or Penilee School in the morning, home for Football Focus and On the Ball, back out to play for Hillington Youth Club, return to deliver the Evening Times Sports edition with the results and then look forward to Sportscene.

If I wasn’t playing, I’d go to a match. My first game was Rangers 0 Aberdeen 2 at Ibrox. The ball bounced off the pitch pursued by John Greig and I leaned forward to push it back. The unexpected weight of the leather ball crushed my hand back against the low white perimeter wall. Greig picked the ball up and must have wondered what was causing this young lad so much pain. I used to be a regular at Love Street to see Alex Ferguson’s St Mirren and I’d occasionally go to see Partick Thistle at Firhill with my cousin.

Internationals at Hampden were always special and I was a regular. My first was to see us win against Eusebio’s Portugal. I saw George Best’s Northern Ireland, but the best was when Scotland beat England 2-0 at Hampden in 1974. The crush and noise of a hundred thousand and more in the stadium was thrilling. I was there a couple of times when they beat us, but I don’t remember any of that.

I was match reporter for BBC Scotland, mostly on radio. It wasn’t open all mics, then – which is a great innovation – and you had to provide summaries every 10 minutes during the first half, a half-time report, goal updates during the second half and then your final match report. Even now I sometimes catch myself composing a brief summary when I’m watching a game.

Reporters’ access is a real privilege. I remember rocking European nights at Celtic Park, the TV gantry bouncing at Ibrox and tea served in fine cups in the eyrie at the old Hampden with a custard cream and piece of cake.

One Saturday lined up perfectly. I was playing for my team BK Scotia in Coatbridge in the morning and reporting from Airdrie’s Broomfield Park in the afternoon. During the game a guy elbowed me in the face, chipping some teeth and splitting my lip. There was a lot blood and I didn’t have time to go home. I cleaned it up as best I could and spent the afternoon watching Airdrie 0 Motherwell 2, filing my reports and doing the after match interviews. It was only as I was in my car to go home that I caught sight of my face in the rear view mirror. From the corner of my mouth there was a line of dried blood running down to my chin. No one had said a word, not a player or a manager, even fellow reporters. Maybe caked blood on the face was par for the course in Airdrie.

A real thrill was reading the results on Afternoon Sportscene. As kids my brothers and I had the important job of writing down the scores for my Faither. Here I was actually reading them out. Dougie Donnelly’s masterful anchoring of the programme with no scripts was an education.

Saturdays are different now. I no longer go to games on a Saturday morning since my sons grew up. I miss the anticipation and the fun, but sometimes the mindless shouting of some fathers trying to live out their thwarted dreams through the kids was a bit much.

Possibly because there is much more football available, somehow I don’t feel the same excitement. Maybe it’s overload. Live football is no longer the event it was. That’s probably not a bad thing, but I find I often don’t watch a full game.

Nothing compares to the live event, though, and I still go to a few games each season.

If I can, I’ll listen to “Off the Ball” which captures the spirit of Scottish football so well.

I’m in a Fantasy Football League and that colours how I watch the game. In a dramatic match the underdogs are leading with only minutes to go. The football fan in you wills them to hold on, but part of you has a sneaking hope that maybe the other team will equalise with your player because that gets you more points. It detracts from the overall drama of the game sometimes.

Same for betting. Raman enjoys a bit of bookie bashing, but betting odds remain a mystery to me.

Match of the Day is a must watch, although not always on a Saturday.

Other sports?

My pals would try tennis and golf in the summer and one or two of them would even try to get us to play cricket or rugby. I thought it was time wasted when you could be playing football. My boys played basketball and my Canadian nephew plays ice hockey and American football and I’ve tried to get into them.

I know it’s a narrow perspective, but none of them has ever come close to football for me.