The clichéd story of a football team financially hyper-extending itself, filing for bankruptcy, before re-modelling as a ‘Phoenix Club’ is not a particularly new or unique one. The battle-hardened fans of Bury, Scarborough and, perhaps most famously, Wimbledon are among a vast list of supporters who can testify to such a journey.
However, the romanticism attached to the rise, and subsequent crashing demise, of Gretna F.C. is somewhat different to the connotations attached to their fallen footballing comrades. For this tale is not one of crass, dismissive owners, hell-bent on financial exploitation and about as comfortable with the local landscape as a Bhoy in Govan. Nor is it a community having its soul and identity ripped out in exchange for a commercial bump (ala Milton Keynes Dons or rather Wimbledon F.C, depending on your persuasion – RIP).
This is the uplifting, feel-good story of how a maverick man, a football man, as generous as they come, thrust a club from ‘one man and his dog watching’ territory to the continent’s second most prestigious competition. From rubbing shoulders with Montrose & Elgin to beating a previous UEFA cup finalist in Dundee United. From the ‘modest’ grounds of the Scottish Third Division (said with a heavy dose of footballing cordiality) to the famous terraces of Hampden Park.
Unlike other similar entrants into footballing folklore, this tale emphasises the good times over the bad. The failure was a by-product, simply an outcome, a tolerable conclusion to one of the most meteoric rises that football, on these shores at least, had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. True, Leeds United fans may well reminisce about their Champions League semi-final appearance with an exciting squad valued in the hundreds of millions and a young, ambitious manager at the helm destined for greatness (whatever did actually happen to David O’Leary?), but, alas, these stories are usually usurped when the discussion turns to Peter Ridsdale’s fish tank expenses, or Seth Johnson’s ludicrous contractual negotiation (the equivalent of going into a dealership hoping for a Ford Fiesta, and walking out with Lamborghini Aventador – had to google that, cars are not a strongpoint). It’s not exactly a nostalgic reflection, rather a series of tormented flashbacks.