The photo tells the story

As only pictures can

About the time some years ago

The Boy met with The Man.

 

The Boy was Billy Bremner -

He looks about to cry;

The schoolyard bully held to task;

The Man was Dave Mackay.

 

Each held a reputation

But paid each no regard,

While Bremner was plain dirty

Mackay – well, he was hard.

 

Though Mackay’d returned from injury

No quarter did he beg,

This was his first game back again

Since his broken leg.

 

Not just once, but twice it broke

And Bremner had a ploy,

He’d kick him hard upon that leg -

He’d know he’d met The Boy.

 

The first foul he’d put in on Dave

It could have broke again;

Mackay thought, “That’s an accident,

And it’s a game for men”.

 

But Bremner was not satisfied

So tried again his plan

To break his leg and end for good

The career of The Man.

 

But when he fouled a second time

Big Dave’s wrath he incurred;

He thought “That’s no fucking accident.

It’s time I had a word”.

 

He took hold of the little shit;

The ref from distance ran

Fearing for the life of Bremer

Murdered by The Man.

 

The ref need not have worried,

Bremner nearly cries;

Dave held him by his shirt lapels

And looked him in the eyes.

 

“Ye dirty little bastard”

Heard by every fan;

Violence  was not needed;

The Boy had met The Man.

 

So Bremner crept into his shell

And from Mackay’s path ran

Awaiting other matches

Where he wouldn’t meet The Man

 

This photo from a 60’s match

Is where this poem began

And needs no explanation more

Than -

                The Boy met with The Man.