Former SJA President Patrick Collins was a close friend of his fellow sportswriting great Patrick Barclay, who has sadly died aged 77; here, he shares his fond memories of a man who was both assiduous and affable, matching deep knowledge of football with a combative edge – and always laughter…
By Patrick Collins

Once upon a time in the city of Sapporo, Paddy Barclay and I were searching for a taxi to the World Cup Press Centre.
It was a bleak, drizzly evening, and we had started to walk when a cab drew up and a voice boomed out: “Paddy!’
A large man emerged, embraced my colleague and invited us to share his journey.
Paddy told me that his chum was a much-respected Slovenian journalist. They then spent the next 10 minutes discussing the positional shortcomings of Maribor’s new full-back.

Paddy could hold his own in that kind of conversation. He was never a member of that nerdish clique which reduces football to “XGs” and “average pace of metres covered”, but he was comfortably abreast of developments in the world and domestic game.
That knowledge came through in every sentence he wrote.
And those sentences were the products of immense concentration, plus a great deal of angst.
I spent countless winter Saturday evenings travelling back from Manchester or Liverpool with him, listening to his agonies of apprehension about what the desk might do to his copy.
“The subs cut me again last week,” he would say. “Hundred and fifty words just slashed! Viciously! Can you believe it? They’re capable of anything. Bloody subs!”
He would start to cheer up around Birmingham way, and by the time we reached London, he’d be making plans for the rest of his Saturday evening.

Ironically, his first Fleet Street job was as a sub on the Guardian, which he joined from his local Dundee Evening Telegraph.
Inevitably, his writing talent shone through, and he became the first football correspondent of The Independent at its launch in 1986.
He moved to the Observer five years later, and in 1996 he moved on to the Sunday Telegraph for eight years before becoming chief football commentator with The Times in 2009. He then joined the London Evening Standard.
Across the years, he established a considerable reputation for his measured, thoughtful style, the product of exhaustive research and a deep knowledge of his subject, and he was recognised by his peers with the Sports Writers’ Association’s (as the SJA was known back then) Sports Writer of the Year Award in 1993.
And yet, for such an assiduous writer, it was another asset which brought him wider public recognition.

To those of us who were used to spending late-night hours of heated debate and uproarious laughter in Paddy’s company, those smooth, Dundonian vowels seemed unremarkable.
But when he started to feature on Sky Sports’ ‘Sunday Supplement’ programme, alongside a raucous cabal of football journalists, that voice became his trademark.
I recall endless Sunday morning trips out to the Sky Studios at Isleworth, to be confronted by Paddy at his most combative. On the previous day, we might have been at, say, Craven Cottage, where we would have finished our work before striding out across the park to the pub on the banks of the Thames.
There, we would spend the next hour or so arguing about all things football. And as time wore on, Paddy would say to me: “Funny old world, Patsy. We’re going to be talking exactly the same nonsense on the telly tomorrow. And expecting people to listen to us!
“Still, there’ll be no bloody subs to cut it!” I would say. And he would laugh.
In the years that followed, Paddy would arrange lunch in London for a small crew of his chums. Once again, the Voice of Dundee would be at the heart of it, making his point, arguing his case, laughing at his memories.
He laughed a lot, did Paddy Barclay. It was the bubbling emotion of a decent man. We shall miss the laughter most of all.
Further reading…
Patrick Barclay, 1947-2025: ‘One of the greatest sports writers of his or any generation’
Tributes to Paddy Barclay RIP (Football Writers’ Association)
Patrick Barclay, talented and respected football journalist, dies aged 77 (Sachin Nakrani, The Guardian)
Tributes pour in after beloved journalist Patrick Barclay dies: ‘A wonderful football writer’ (Jack Rathborn, The Independent)
The SJA is interested in your sports media industry news and views. Keen to reach an engaged audience, including over 70,000 followers across social media? We welcome your enquiries – contact us here. We also offer advertising and sponsorship opportunities.
For information on how to apply as a Full or Associate Member of the SJA, plus details of our free-to-enter SJA Academy, click here.