Brendan Rodgers is a man who once said that his greatest mentor was himself, and among his favourite sayings to impart to his players are gems like ’You can live without water for many days, but you can’t live for a second without hope’, and ‘Per aspera ad astra’, Latin for ‘Through adversity to the stars’.
So, while comparisons between the former and soon to be Celtic manager and cringeworthy character David Brent from TV series The Office are in my view a tad unfair – you can even do a ‘Who said it, David Brent or Brendan Rodgers?’ quiz online – it would also be fair to say that he has brought a fair bit of such stick on himself.
During his first spell in Glasgow, he came out with a few belters of a similar ilk.
Everyone knows about the infamous Danny McGrain story upon his arrival at Celtic, his insistence that a Rangers fan had approached him in the Clyde Tunnel and called him ‘a breath of fresh air’, and his nod to wee Patsy, an elderly Celtic fan who would hold vigil outside the ground with her Brendan Rodgers hat and scarf on.
Whether these tales were true, tall or embellished in the telling, they were held up to mock the man, and even less generously in some quarters, to paint him as a slightly sociopathic - and certainly narcissistic - figure of fun.
What may be less well known though is that behind the scenes, such a scathing characterisation of Rodgers could hardly be further from the truth. And it would be a shame if the tip of the iceberg that was often visible to the public hid what was really the main substance to the man underneath.
Like many other members of the press, I covered Rodgers closely during his time in Scotland. I can only speak for myself, but during those years, I found him to be a warm, engaging character. Furthermore, he had an empathy that perhaps explains why he is able to get so much out of players who may have previously been struggling, with James Forrest perhaps the prime example of a player whose career was completely turned around by the influence of Rodgers at Celtic.
I have my own personal experience of the sort of person Rodgers frequently revealed himself to be at his core.
Driving up to Lennoxtown for a Friday press conference one freezing December afternoon, I had the misfortune of steering directly over the remnants of an iron fence that had recently been sawn away to the nubs on the road into the training ground. The result was gaping punctures to both tyres on the left-hand side of my motor.
With just minutes to go before the scheduled start of the press conference, I cajoled this thing up the steep hill to the security buzzer – sparks flying and smoke billowing – before eventually rolling into the car park around 10 minutes late.
I ran into the building unusually puce in the puss for the time of year and sweating profusely, got round to the changing room where the daily newspaper presser was being held, and swung the door open only to find that Rodgers was already holding court.
He gestured with his hand that I should step back outside, which I duly did, and he soon followed.
After a quick dressing down for my tardiness (his standards must be upheld even by the press, you see) I explained what had happened. Not only did he first ensure that I got a cup of tea and calmed down sufficiently enough to avert an aneurism, he made sure a tow-truck was arranged to get me to the mechanics down the road, before going back into the room and instructing the other assembled journalists that I had to receive every word of the transcription of his interview.
These were small gestures perhaps, but he didn’t need to do any of it, and I would have then had an angry editor as well as an already beelin’ wife waiting up the road to go with a repair bill to pay just before Christmas.
By that time Rodgers already had my respect and that of most of the rest of the press pack for the way he conducted himself, and as contrary to his public image as it may be to say, for his straightness in his responses to questions on just about any subject.
On the record, he would give as extensive a reply as he possibly could to the queries put to him. Then, often, he would clarify certain things or explain the context behind his answer once the tapes were turned off.
It was easy to see just why his players overwhelmingly spoke in such glowing terms about him as a coach and a man (which wasn’t always the case at his former clubs, admittedly), and he was fascinating to listen to when you managed to set him loose on his favourite topic. No, not himself, all you wags out there, but football.
Usually, if you punctured the Brent-speak, there was a clear message he was communicating too. His infamous use of ‘Terminado’ when asked what his future at Celtic would look like if he didn’t get the backing of the board in the transfer market was a case in point. All of us around the table with him exchanged knowing, gleeful looks when he delivered what was a classic Rodgers turn of phrase, but there was a serious message behind it that hinted at what was to come.
Indeed, just six months after delivering that line, it was indeed terminado time for Rodgers at Celtic. No matter if the board was indeed at fault for the breakdown in relations, or whether some fans – as a great many still do – consider him a ‘rat’ for the way he left the club, it seems all at Celtic and Rodgers will soon have to make their peace with one another.
All I can add to repay the kindness he once showed me and perhaps aid his cause in some small way is emphasise that while the illusion of him being ‘always a Celt’ may have been shattered, the man is no fraud.
