Whatever one’s views on, and affinity for, the Scotland national team, only those hearts truly made of stone will not have felt even a momentary swell upon seeing Andy Considine stride out of the Hampden tunnel wearing its colours. His face a granite façade as he delivered the national anthem in a style typically understated, but more in tune than any of the more vaunted names in the line-up: a metaphor for his footballing career. Only in the wide eyes capturing every moment for posterity was there a hint of the significance of the moment; eyes which would later moisten noticeably as he searched for the correct word to describe the experience to the TV cameras. In the nick of time, he got there, as Andy so often does. “Emotional.” Bang on, loon. Cue much flying of unexpected dust inside eyelids across the North-East.
He is a Scotland player, but he is Aberdeen’s, no doubt. Few others in the increasingly itinerant and interchangeable modern game can reach his stage in life and be able to say that they have never played so much as a single minute in the colours of any other club, even on loan. But every other club in the land will have one of their own, and all will understand the immense pride and emotion in watching such an estimable servant at last receiving recognition for gallons of blood, sweat and tears expelled in pursuit of our shared dream. Many’s the player who has represented the Red Army in international battle down the years, but perhaps none has so honoured the dictionary definition of the word since Brian Irvine made the leap 30 years ago.
Andy Considine is undoubtedly a player who has got better with years, and so it is no surprise that he has scaled this peak later than almost every other Scotland cap in history. Former Aberdeen winger and manager Tommy Pearson, whose career was interrupted by World War II, is the only outfield player ever to make his Scotland debut at a more advanced age, and though a 33-year-old professional athlete is a very different-looking beast in 2020 than was the case in 1947, Andy would have been forgiven for presuming that his chance had gone, especially as his phone remained silent when those of younger Premiership rivals such as Stuart Findlay, Declan Gallagher and Ryan Porteous took the call.
Dons fans have held Andy in particular esteem for many years, partly on account of his extreme diligence and professionalism, partly in defiance of the many braying wiseguys who pretend that their clubs would have no use for such a player. To see the former finally carrying him to an accolade which the latter can never take away brought a lump to the throat. I have said it before in these pages and make absolutely zero apology for saying it again: any chortling opposition fan who has ever spoken ill of him and thought that Andy was the one left looking silly by it is very sorely mistaken, for all that they prove by lampooning Andy Considine’s quality is that they are talking about something of which they know absolutely nothing.
In every team sport, players like Andy – who pour everything of themselves into the constant production of the best performances they can possibly give, never dipping below a standard which the majority would be delighted to achieve even periodically – are worth their weight in gold. Scottish football, so unprolific in its creation of world-class talent, was built on the backs of those men. Andy Considine is a worthy addition to the list of players honoured; he has played his part.
Proud of you, min.
Proud of you, min.
