From rampaging Hibs starlet to box-to-box Celtic dynamo to Scotland’s midfield general, Scott Brown, the legend Broony, has had a transformational and trophy-laden career as a player. Now, he’s at the beginning of another as a manager, albeit with a full head of hair.
Refreshingly, Brown opted to kick off his dugout days away from the goldfish bowl of Scottish football, where someone like him may never be able to shake off their high-profile, controversial career of playing the pantomime villain to opposing supporters.
It’s also unusual to see someone like him become a gaffer and disappear from the sports pages, which has also happened. The main reason is that Fleetwood Town are rarely big news, sitting down in England’s League One, a division that most Scottish football fans barely take any notice of.
For Brown, who has just finished his first term in charge, relegation seemed like a possibility until Fleetwood stabilised mid-season, finishing 13th and 40 points away from automatic promotion.
But what sort of boss is he? An extension of what we’re used to? Brown was a 3D player, with an image and playing style that everyone understood. So, it was with great relish that I strapped myself into my seat at Charlton Athletic’s The Valley stadium in South East London, expecting fireworks.
Welcome to Ayr United – Scott Brown and Steven Whittaker.
🗣️"This is an exciting appointment for Ayr United and, I have no doubt, will be remembered as an exciting period of time on our journey"
Read more⬇️https://t.co/RGED8941Sx#WeAreUnited pic.twitter.com/3lcBtBKJSh
— Ayr United (@AyrUnitedFC) January 23, 2024
A handy quirk of Charlton’s main stand is that the first couple of rows put you virtually in the away dugout. As kick-off approached, nobody seemed to have acknowledged Brown – surely something that hasn’t happened in an SPL ground since he first burst on to the scene in 2003. Then, a woman appeared, hovering on the stairway with her phone out.
“I’m too embarrassed,” she said. A fellow Scot, tasked with getting a picture with ‘Broony’ for her sons. She thought better of leaning over the barrier before ascending the stairs again, back to her seat.
For those in need of a visual, Brown is a tracksuit-clad manager, but doesn’t do football boots, opting for black trainers. It’s the standard uniform for his assistants too, both well-known former players in their own right: Steven Whittaker and Barry Nicholson.
It wasn’t until ten minutes in that Brown sprung into life, bellowing “Our ball!” from the sideline before reverting to James Bond mode – calm and collected.
He doesn’t bother with notepads, that is left to Whitaker who did a fair amount of scribbling. Then, after 21 minutes, Brown spun around to shout at his bench: “Three-Five-Two!” With that, and a call for “Roons!” Shaun Rooney was recalled from his warm-up and sent on to the field.
The only recognisable Scot in the squad, Rooney soon spanked home a 30-yard rocket, promoting memories of his Cup heroics for St Johnstone a few years ago.
Following the change in formation, Brown gathered his backroom into a huddle. From there he moved back into his technical area and, for a man who was reckless at worst, exuberant at best, seemed obsessed with telling his players to “get back in”. It was shocking to see the man who was red carded against Barcelona in 2013 for losing the rag with
Neymar be so tamely single-minded.
All he did was move players 10 yards up, then back, shuffling them one way or the other. Ice cold was his style, he even let Whitaker and Nicholson berate the fourth official over any questionable decisions. Brown didn’t bother, his glare on the ball constantly.
A flash of the old Broony
“Keep it moving, don’t give them a touch.” After 38 minutes, he finally averted his eyes, asking for an empty water bottle to dispose of his chewing gum. Half-time loomed and Charlton bagged an equaliser and the Brown of old made a fleeting appearance, bellowing: “Fucking one minute to go.” Then he was off towards the tunnel, in the corner of The Valley. He didn’t bother looking at the fans or anyone, just a purposeful walk – which you can’t imagine him doing or being able to in any Scottish stadium.
Second half and it was the still the new Broony. No fire, just calculation. An obsession with shape and remote controlling his wingbacks to plug certain gaps. A few yards here, a few yards there.
Whittaker took possession of a tray of teas, Brown gulping his down, his paper cup in the rubbish bin at bang on 60 minutes. Even that was done with a coolness, no emotion or hurry. Then the “back in” calls resumed, as he stoically tried to dictate play again.
Another flash of his internal fire erupted when Charlton almost scored from a set-piece, after a Fleetwood player didn’t track his runner as the system dictated.
“It’s not fucking hard, we’ve been here seven months and he’s been at every session,” screamed Brown at Whittaker and Nicholson.
The game became more fraught as it progressed, yet Brown remained in his 2023 vintage. He never once berated the referee and he didn’t really celebrate Fleetwood’s second goal, preferring to gather a few of his team to calmly explain where they should be in relation to the ball.
One final crack in the armour soon appeared when one of his midfielders kept getting caught out of position; a major bugbear of Brown’s. “He’s doing my tits in,” was the phrase uttered to Whittaker, who wrote out the substitution form. Ninety seconds later the guy was sitting in front of myself, both of us in Brown’s shadow.
Hear from Head Coach, Scott Brown, and the scorer of today's winning goal, Mark McKenzie following our victory at Hampden.
Watch both interviews in full on Ayr United TV 📺⬇️https://t.co/708KQkFjaq#WeAreUnited pic.twitter.com/5UjWTBelpr
— Ayr United (@AyrUnitedFC) January 27, 2024
The final whistle blew and Fleetwood had earned a tough away win. But Brown didn’t do The Broony. Instead, he was on the pitch debriefing certain players on positioning. From there it was a canter to the away fans, offering them a clap before heading back down the tunnel. No histrionics, no fist pumps. And I liked it.
Despite being a Celtic fan, I never totally warmed to Brown the player, and always had a hard time with his bulging eyes, pulsing veins schtick.
He is the opposite as a manager, though. Almost placid, spending most of the time stood with his hands behind his back, never taking a seat in the dugout, rarely leaving his technical area as he received each decision with grace and silence. Calm, instructive, encouraging everyone to play as part of the team. Simple.
It was just hard to believe this was the same guy who stood defiantly in the face of El Hadji Diouf, or who comically danced following a skirmish to further antagonise Aberdeen’s hardcore fans.
Miracles maybe do happen. Having moved with the times as a player, Brown appears to done it again as a manager. There are no cups of teas being thrown or kit hampers being booted these days.
As a manager he seems to be more about tactical elegance and fine-tuning.