Craig Brown was revered throughout a game he knew better than most

T he phrase was as common as it was needless. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep you back from anything …” Craig Brown never was holding this or any other journalist away from something more important than the extended insight being offered into football matters of the 1960s, 2000s or anywhere else in between.

Brown did not appreciate his age being a matter of public discussion but his ability to so sharply assess the game and its characters into his 80s was genuinely remarkable. He was unfailingly helpful to the media and unfailingly apologetic if one landed upon that ultra-rare thing; a topic he was not quite sure about.

There will be no more lengthy calls with Brown, no more erudite testimony, no more follow-up messages as thanks for making him “sound intelligent” in print. Bowel cancer has taken one of Scottish football’s most significant figures of the modern era, just short of his 83rd birthday.

Brown, Jim McLean and Walter Smith will surely be sharing laughs in the great dugout in the sky. Nobody in football is universally popular but “Broon” had far more friends than most.

He was subtly but fiercely protective of his coaching record. He was also self-deprecating and a wonderful raconteur with an impish sense of humour. Brown could provide detail on throw-in routines that most observers thought impossible. He paid freakishly close attention to the warm-up approach of substitutes. His “wee pal” Steve Evans kept him abreast of rising stars in England’s lower leagues but Brown had earlier rubbed shoulders with football royalty.

When Brown announced his retirement from management, in 2013, he received a letter from his close friend Sir Alex Ferguson which started: “You rotten bugger.” Ferguson, who followed suit