Scott Calderwood wanted to retrace his steps.
After a drink in Govan’s Fairfield Club, he goes up on to Craigton Road and along Edmiston Drive to Ibrox.
The familiar route evokes lots of memories. As a kid, he’d often do that 10 minute walk with dad Jimmy and grandad Jim to go and see Rangers play.
It’s not the same now, though. And the void will never be filled.
Not while his old man is lying in a hospital, oblivious to who his son is.
Tragically, that’s the reality for Calderwood.
In his prime, Jimmy was one of Scottish football’s most colourful characters.
Within the game, an ambitious, tactically innovative, risk taking coach at Dunfermline, Aberdeen, Kilmarnock and Ross County.
And on the outside, funny and full of life. He was a storyteller.
Now, there’s just a blankness behind his eyes. No memory of being a top manager. No recollection of his achievements. Nothing.
That’s what being gripped by dementia does to you.
And for the family members, like Scott, every visit breaks their heart that little bit more.
It’s just six years since Jimmy was diagnosed with young onset Alzheimer's disease. Even in 2017, he spoke openly about raising awareness of the illness.
But in the last 12 months, his condition has deteriorated rapidly.
Scott, a coach himself in Holland, gets back to Glasgow as much as he can to see him.
He’d love nothing more than to be a sponge in his dad’s company. Soaking up all the experience, knowledge and nous from a near 50-year career in the game.
But that’s not possible. Instead, all he can do is talk about football and hope it triggers something, anything, in Jimmy.
Last week, Scotland legend Colin Hendry spoke openly about his dementia fears.
That’s why he’s signed up for PFA Scotland’s PREVENT initiative, which involves the testing of ex-players to explore links to the sport.
Now, Scott wants to raise awareness further by talking about his dad’s plight, which will devastate those who know him.
In an exclusive interview with Mailsport , he said: “My dad doesn’t know who I am now. He’s really struggled for the last few years.
“In the last couple of months, the decline has been very quick. He doesn’t know anyone, doesn’t recognise people.
“You just see a different man.
“My dad is a big character, always bubbly. But that’s gone now. It’s unbelievable.
“In his face, you can obviously see a difference in him. But it’s more in his mind. You get very little response from him.
“When you’re talking to him, you just think: ‘He’s not here’. That’s really difficult for me.
“He’s in a hospital with other dementia sufferers and has fallen over a few times. He’s not in a good state.
“I came over to visit him the week of the Rangers v Ross County game at Ibrox a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t get over from Holland before that because of Covid.
“I wasn’t able to see him for about a year, which was really tough. Before, I’d be over every month.
“But I was there for four days and took a walk down memory lane, doing the same walk to Ibrox we did when I was a boy. It was a tough visit.
“I can still remember that clearly. It’s always been there and no-one can take those memories away. But it was strange that day.
“I’d also been doing my Pro Licence coaching badges with the SFA but I couldn’t discuss any of it with my dad.
“We had a conference with David Moyes and I told my dad about it that night. He just looked at me.
“All he could say was: ‘Great guy’. That was it. Normally, he’d start talking about him, give me anecdotes about when he was in David’s company.
“There was nothing. Every name like that I mention, he just says: ‘Great guy’. Everyone’s a great guy.
“I would have loved nothing more than to talk to him about the course, ask about formations and systems and coaching.
“Not being able to do that is tough, because of the bond we had together. When we were together, it was probably 80 percent about football and 20 percent about life.
“When I was over recently, it shocked me.
“I tried to speak to him about Rangers or Aberdeen but he doesn’t know anything about them. You just think: ‘Wow’.
“He used to have so much knowledge.
“I actually had a wee Rangers teddy bear in my car. I’d taken it off my grandad when he passed away and I’ve always had it.
“I took it up and gave it to my dad, in the hope of triggering something. He took it off me but, nothing.
“It’s difficult every time I go and see him.”
Calderwood senior was a top level coach as recently as 2014 with Dutch side De Graffschap.
The Netherlands had become a second home, with Jimmy spending 15 years there as a player and manager.
The signs of dementia were there but Scott didn’t want to acknowledge them. Instead, they’d have a laugh at his dad’s forgetfulness.
In his own mind, he believed the illness would only really impact him in his 70’s or 80’s.
Now, he’s facing up to the fact that, at 66, Jimmy’s life is merely an existence.
Scott said: “My dad used to always know where he was going when he was on the roads in the car. But all of a sudden, he started having to look at signs and directions. He’d never been like that.
“We’d make a joke about it, not thinking anything of it.
“Then I remember we were in Holland together one day and he forgot to take his money out of the cash machine.
“My dad used to love spending his money. So we’d wind him up, saying he’d never forget to collect his cash.
“Looking back, that was the start of it, the early stages.
“At that point, you tell yourself it won’t come to anything bad. But then he’d start asking you the same question over and over again.
“Sometimes it was two and three times. When it’s you he’s talking to, you don’t recognise it as much.
“But when he was doing that with the kids, it was really noticeable. He’d ask them the same question he’d asked them 10 minutes ago.
“That’s when it really started to accelerate.
“Even when it kicked in properly, I didn’t want to accept that he wouldn’t work in football again.
“I didn’t want to see that happening to him. In the early stages, you don’t know much about the illness.
“You think it’ll only get worse when he’s 70-odd or 80. Now I know that’s not the case at all.”
Jimmy was hugely successful as a manager in Scotland. A promotion, their highest ever top flight finish and a Scottish Cup Final at Dunfermline.
The group stages of the UEFA Cup with Aberdeen and then saving Kilmarnock from relegation.
But for Scott, his short spell at Ross County will always be special - because he got the gig as his assistant.
And now, it’s the chats, the advice and the laughter that he misses most.
He said: “It’s the little bits of wisdom and humour - that’s what I really miss.
“Now as a coach, I’ll have decisions to make and think: ‘What would my dad do’? It’s strange because I’m thinking like that and he’s still here.
“But the truth is, but he’s not here. I want to phone him but I don’t get my dad on the other end.
“Being at a professional club together, like we were at Ross County, was amazing.
“Around the time he was diagnosed, I was starting to build my own career as a coach.
“I had a lot of questions for him. I was hoping to get knowledge from him, just like I’d do with any other manager.
“But because he was my dad, I knew I could trust him. And he didn’t have the career he had without knowing the game.
“So I wanted to quiz him on things but slowly, that started fading away. I just wasn’t able to do that any more.”
