Why Graeme Souness was neither arrogant nor selfish but, in fact, selfless

An equaliser from Davie Cooper against Wales meant Scotland had qualified for the World Cup - but that was of no consequence as medics fought to save Stein’s life.

Scottish captain Graeme Souness, suspended for the game, waited outside the room where his manager lay on the physio’s table fighting for survival. After 10 minutes, Scotland doctor Stewart Hillis knew there was nothing more that could be done.

He came out and gave Souness the grim news. The Liverpool midfielder wandered down the corridor in tears. Devastated, all he could say to the waiting players and media was: “He’s gone, he’s gone...”

The football world was in shock but Souness felt it more, much more, than most for no-one really knew the depth of their relationship.

Stein was shrewd and circumspect, even dour at times, and had learned to cleverly manipulate the system. Souness was explosive, flamboyant, fearless. They were like chalk and cheese and should never have been the closest of friends - yet they were.

The story about how these giants of Scottish football, with such contrasting personalities, became almost like a father and son starts when I met Stein in 1984 at a charity fundraiser.

I asked him who was the best player he’d worked with. “Oh, Bobby Murdoch,” he said without hesitation. “Mind you, he couldn't run.” Then he added: “But the best team player, by far, is Graeme Souness.”

The Liverpool star was a ferocious talent. From 1978-1984 he was at the heart of an awesome Anfield machine that won a staggering five titles and three European Cups. Quite simply, they were the best club side on the planet. By a distance.

But he had critics who disliked his combative style and seeming arrogance - a trait you would normally equate with selfishness rather than teamwork.

So I was surprised at Stein's revelation. But what he told me about Souness was astonishing, a riveting insight that resonates to this day. He said: “Graeme plays in central midfield, the busiest position on the park.

“There is seldom a moment in a game when you play there that you are not involved but he still finds time to do things way above and beyond what’s required. He helps players in his own side without them knowing. If somebody has a bad touch or makes a mistake, Graeme will be just a few yards away from him every time he gets the ball so he can take an easy pass.

“He’ll keep doing that till the player’s got his confidence back. If another one goes off the boil he’ll do the same with him. That will go on throughout the game. I’ve never known anybody in football to do that. He’s the best team player you could ever wish for.”

As Stein spoke about his skipper I sensed it was with a distinct fondness and pride. “Oh aye,” he added. “He’s some guy. There’s no doubt about that.”

Scotland’s next game was a World Cup qualifier at Hampden against Iceland. I watched Souness closely. Full-back Arthur Albiston had a few nervy touches early on. Sure enough, every time he got the ball, for the next 10 minutes or so Souness would appear at his side asking for an easy square pass then he would move the ball further upfield with ease. Like all classy players, he made everything look simple.

Albiston went on to have a decent game. As did Scotland, thanks to a 3-0 win, which included a 30-yard screamer from a young Paul McStay. Now I truly understood why Stein admired his captain so much.

Fast forward to August 2, 1990, the day the first Gulf War broke out. Souness was the Rangers manager and I had an interview with him in his Ibrox office. Walter Smith, his assistant, sat in the corner in training gear, a tray with tea and sandwiches on his lap. He was glued to the small portable TV as US defence secretary Dick Cheney spoke.

When I entered the office, Smith stood up out of courtesy to be introduced but Souness just nodded at him to go. He shuffled past sheepishly holding his tray. I thought Souness had been unnecessarily rude - even arrogant - and feared we wouldn’t get on.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was in wonderful form, talking humbly about his upbringing and how he played football non-stop as a kid because his family couldn’t afford a TV. How his mother would call him in for bed then he’d sneak back out, hitting a ball against a wall and learning to trap it stone dead with both feet before being caught and summoned back in with a flea in his ear.

He said: “I suppose I was a bit lucky because my dad was a school janitor so the football pitch was on my doorstep. There would be a bounce game every night until it got dark and everyone went home. I would stay on, playing with the ball before I got called in. Then I’d slip back out again…”

That early dedication paid off and he was snapped up by Tottenham Hotspur at 15. The bright lights of London though were his undoing and he was undisciplined and difficult in that period.

READ MORE: Rangers 1987/88: The tumult and turmoil of Graeme Souness' second season - Martyn Ramsay

By 21, he’d failed to get in the first team at White Hart Lane and Middlesbrough signed him for just £30k. When Jackie Charlton arrived at Ayresome Park the next season to take over, he told the immature hothead he’d have to buckle down or his career would be finished before it began.

Remarkably, Stein’s other favourite player, the sublime Murdoch, left Celtic and signed for Boro in 1973, a year after Souness arrived.

The Lisbon Lion also influenced the young pretender and they became great friends. After Souness went to Rangers, Murdoch joked that he had taught his pal how to tackle but wished he hand’t bothered.

Souness said: “I was too cocky and thought I knew it all then. I had a lot of growing up to do. Jackie Charlton convinced me I could be a player but I’d have to change my ways. Something clicked within me and from then on I strived to become a model professional. I owe him a lot.”

There was not a trace of arrogance in anything he said and he came over as warm and intelligent about the game.

We spoke about Stein and he said: “You know, I still miss him so much. There wasn’t a day we didn’t speak, if not face to face then by phone. Every day. It was a terrible blow to lose him. He was like a second father to me.”

I hadn’t told anyone about Stein’s insight as he said Souness’s team-mates didn’t know he was helping them on the field and felt that’s the way his captain would want it to remain.

Now I thought Souness should know. I told him the story and as I did so he looked at me with disbelief. He was genuinely lost for words, gobsmacked that Stein had revealed this. That he was even aware of it.

His eyes welled up and his voice softened as he said: “I didn’t know he knew that. Oh, that is really something.” He paused then added: “But I should have. His knowledge of the game was unbelievable. What a loss he is. What a loss...”

Clearly emotional, it was astonishing to see this guy, one of the hardest men to have played the game, close to tears, still grieving for his friend and mentor five years after his passing. It was time to leave him in private with his thoughts. He shook my hand and said: “Thank you for telling me that. It’s a great comfort.”

History will treat Stein and Souness rather differently I suspect. Not in terms of their achievements in football - both were world-class and Scotland will never see their likes again - but because of their differing personalities.

However, they found something in each other that brought them together in a way few would have thought possible. Perhaps it was simply down to Stein seeing on the park what no-one else saw - the real Souness.

A man who was neither arrogant nor selfish but, in fact, selfless. The best team player he had ever known.