LOOKING forward to commemorating the 500th anniversary of the battle of Flodden when we lost to the English?

When 10,000 Scottish soldiers were literally crushed to death and the nation metaphorically so. Me neither.

But I will take time to ponder on Flodden as the biggest own goal of Scottish military history. Which brings me to football and a more cheerful date to celebrate.

Next month is the centenary of the birth of football manager Bill Shankly who is famous for conquering English football on behalf of the supporters of Liverpool FC.

Merseyside celebrations include a sportsmen's dinner and a retelling of the Shankly story by some of his players, including Ian St John. Who might recall advice Shankly gave him on his transfer from Motherwell: "Son, you'll do well here as long as you remember two things. Don't over-eat and don't lose your accent."

The centenary will be an opportunity to relive the Shanklyisms. On his reluctance to miss a match against rivals Everton: "Sickness would not have kept me away from this one. If I'd been dead, I would have had them bring the casket to the ground, prop it up in the stands, and cut a hole in the lid."

On his signing of centre-half Ron Yeats: "With him in defence, we could play Arthur Askey in goal." More advice to Ian St John: "'If you're not sure what to do with the ball, just pop it in the net and we'll discuss your options afterwards."

Shankly's famous denial: "Of course I didn't take my wife to see Rochdale as an anniversary present. It was her birthday. Anyway, it was Rochdale reserves."

Asked if some Scottish players could be a bit arrogant, he said: "It's not arrogance. It's confidence and pride. Arrogance is a very bad word. It should be stricken from the dictionary."

Add in his assertion that football is much more than important than life or death and some may suspect there may have been a hint of madness in Shankly's magnificence. But in a nice, honest Ayrshire way.

Sports writer Hugh McIlvanney, a fellow Ayrshireman, had it right: "Bill Shankly was a warrior poet of football, a rough-hewn romantic whose often surreal imagery and talent for hyperbole made his sayings central to the folklore of the game in Britain.

"His deeds were pretty remarkable, too."