1975 was a year of decline in the fortunes of the city of Dundee and two of my old stamping grounds, the Caledon Boatyerd and TC Keays Engineering Works closed their doors for the last time.

The famous angular TC Keay roof was to remain in place above Dens for a number of years, but the fortunes of the city’s senior football club regrettably mirrored the economic slump.  The spring of 75 had seen the penultimate in the long line of Cup Semi defeats to Celtic, although Dundee had safely qualified for the new 10 club premier league, by finishing 6th.

Season 75/76 kicked off in a Dens heat wave, with Strachan playing Alan Ball off the park as the Dees cuffed Arsenal 2-1, in Wee Gordie’s first team debut. But the Dees failed dismally to make any impact in either the Anglo Scottish, or League cup and the fans stayed away in their droves as the Sheep came calling for the inaugural Premier league game.  Late goals at the TC Keay end saw Dundee win 3-2 to become the league’s first ever leaders (the other 4 games ended in draws) and we wouldn’t top the league again until Ivano and Dario arrived in August 2000.

The tightness and potential for failure in a 10 club league was starkly demonstrated when 6 games in, we were bottom!  Davie White couldn’t seem to find a settled side and Gemmill seemed to have lost the plot and probably should have lost the Captain’s armband. 

By February, the Dees had climbed clear of the Arabs and of the other sand dwellers from Ayr, but on a snow bound pitch at Dens, we slithered meekly out of the third round of the cup, to Falkirk.  On the day scheduled for fourth round fixtures, Dundee fixed up a friendly at Everton and, deprived of our Jolly boy away trips in the cup, we joined over 800 others on a convoy of coaches, which left the toon at some ungodly hour on the morning of Saturday February 14^th.

It was my first visit to the city I now work in and we received a great welcome at the Everton social club and in the pubs, which held together the narrow terraced streets around the ground.  Could have been something to do with the flood of Scottish notes pouring over the bar counters?

Dundee’s defence was equally spendthrift and the loud and inebriated singing of the Dundee choir at the Park end turned to boos and chants of “ What a load of rubbish” as, after only 20 minutes, we were 3 nil down.  A second half fight back spearheaded by Wallace and Strachan saw the Dees pull back to 3-3, so we loaded up wi’ cairry oots and arrived back in the Jute city somewhere around midnight.

Injuries to Wallace and George Stewart had a negative effect on the Dees next series of games and fellow strugglers Ayr cuffed us 2-1 at Dens, the visitors being managed by Alec Stuart, who many Dees fans would have wished to see replacing Davie White.

Dundee ended up in 9^th place, miles clear of the Perth Teuchters, but with an inferior goal difference to the Dabs and the Sheep.

So, Davie White handed a free to the great Gordon Wallace, despite him being top scorer in an injury-ridden season.  Not surprisingly, Dundee failed to bounce back and we were to spend 4 out of the next 5 seasons in first division wilderness. 

 Then, Gemmill was brought in as manager and promptly sold wee Gordie to Aberdeen for 50k, plus Jim Shirra – aye Gemmill was a fine judge of player, although to be fair he did sign Schaedler and Bobbie Glennie.

Nevertheless, a sizeable number of us, continued to follow the Dee to the far flung corners of obscurity and the real litmus test for the diehards in that first season in Division One, was whether you were at Boghead on the wet and windy Wednesday when Dundee’s promotion dreams finally went down the toilet. Dundee always seemed to play the Sons on a dreich midweek night on a pitch that made Claypotts pond look like the San Siro and I can’t remember ever winning there.

The drive back was never much fun in my dodgy brakes, rust-bucket old Mk. 2 Escort.  For some of the more accessible away trips we took buses or trains, but the jalopy found itself parked outside pubs within walking distance of Douglas Park, Broomfield, Kilbowie, Love Street and Palmerston amongst others.

In March 79. I moved away from Dundee, so at half time in the 4-1 cup victory over Alex Ferguson’s Buddies, I sold my entire programme collection for 40 notes to the lad who used to run the stall at the back of the stand enclosure.

Over the years I usually managed up to ten visits a season to Dens, or to away games and the eighties opened with the Dees fans no longer able to taunt the Arabs with the favourite chant of “ United’s won f*** all, to the tune of These were the Days my friend, as the Dabs won back to back league cups and also the league title at Dens.  Nevertheless, despite the three nil LC Final defeat in front of 24,000 , we out sung the upstarts even when they were being presented with the cup, which was much to their embarrassment.

Still, every dog has its day – even a Dabhound and I am convinced to this day that a prime reason for United’s temporary ascendancy over their neighbours and betters was due to the curse of one J. Mclean.  Picture the scene: Dens – circa 1968, the Dees have just gone three down to Morton and the South Enclosure don’t like it.  Gilzean, Cooke and Ure have departed to swinging London and instead, there is this spindly legged, balding inside forward who can trap the ball further than Ally Donaldson could kick it. ; his tackling is totally ineffective and, in fact, he is a bit of a woos.

The South Enclosure hone their venom in on Jim as he misheads a chip from Doug Houston and the barracking reaches a crescendo.  Jim suddenly turns round and makes a V sign to the fans.  We were standing as usual in front of the left hand pillar in the south Enclosure, as Jim spat and cursed at the fans.  Many of us swear to this day that a dark shadow emerged behind him and a Warlock’s cloak appeared on his head.  Far fetched? Maybe – but Jim’s gone and the curse is safely lifted.

Then there was the day at Dens when the Dabs came to clinch the league title in 1982.  The United fans had packed early into the smaller parts of the ground; i.e. the TC Keay end and the Stand enclosure.  We easily outnumbered them as nearly 29,000 crowded into Dens, many of us standing on, or between the benches at the open section of the Provy.  As we were queuing to get in, a dad with no colours came up to the Polis shepherding our entry, with an 8 year old in tow, the wee lad bedecked in tears and tangerine.

The polis asked,“ Di yi mind if the bairn comes in to the Dundee end?”

The queue fell back immediately and ushered the wee lad and his dad to the front.

“Eh yi’ll be greetin’ worse at qarter to fev”, was the only remark from the crowd.  It could never happen at Ibrox!