Robert Philip, the colourful former sports writer for Reuters and the Daily Telegraph, has passed away at the age of 75
Mike Collett, former FWA National Committee member, pays tribute to his former Reuters colleague Robert Philip, who passed away last weekend.
The family and friends of Robert Philip had been hoping for a miracle but sadly all those hopes finally ended on Saturday when Robert died at home in Troon at the age of 75.
Robert learned 18 months ago that his cancer was terminal but Robert, being Robert, was having none of it. He went to the beach with his wife Yvonne, he played tennis, he had his wine, he supported his favourites, as he dubbed them during a particularly bad spell, “Partick Thistle Nil” and he lived his life without any self-pity right until the end.
A ‘larger-than-life’ life has ended but the memories of a wonderfully gifted football and tennis writer for Reuters and the Daily Telegraph will live on for years.
I first became aware of “Wee Scotty”as he never minded being called, in the pubs of Fleet Street in the early 1980s when he held court with jokes and stories in performances that could have earned him a living as a stand-up comedian.
But his chosen business was sports writing and he excelled, not so much as a news-gatherer but as a writer of immense depth, feeling and colour.
He and I were together at the Heysel Stadium disaster in 1985, we worked together at the World Cup in Mexico in 1986 and year after year at Wimbledon.
When the great Australian—American reporter Steve Dunleavy died a few years ago, one tribute to him was that “there are a million Steve Dunleavy stories and they are all true, even the ones that never happened,” and much the same could be said of Robert. There are a million stories.
But this one is true and is fondly recalled by Ian Chadband, who knew Robert well and was one of the reporters who enjoyed his company on the road.
Ian recalls what happened at the world athletics championships in Edmonton, Canada in 2001.
“I was having a coffee with him in Edmonton when the whole of the city seemed to be on the hunt for him, outraged after he’d dubbed the place, with devastating accuracy “Deadmonton”.
A TV reporter approached us, asking if we were British and might know where he might find ‘this Robert Philip guy’.
Robert, carefully concealing his accreditatlon tag, told him: “I don’t know the man but I’ll let you know if I find him … he’s a complete disgrace!”
Poor guy never did get to know he’d missed his exclusive.
It all ended when he did get found and he eventually even had the mayor of Edmonton eating out of his hand after he’d taken Rob around on a helicopter trip to show him an aerial view of the city, the highlight being the world’s biggest car park if I recall right.”
But that wasn’t quite the end of the tale.
As John Mehaffey of Reuters recalls about what happened a few days later:
“He filed his final story from the airport which went along the lines of: “I’m sitting in Edmonton’s most desirable attraction. The airport departure lounge.”
He’d forgotten that everything went straight on to the Internet so the phone lines to the paper were once again ringing with abuse while he was waiting for his flight.
And the hate mail in the media centre in which people were threatening to shoot him mounted even more.”
He really was fantastic friend, colleague and a seriously gifted original writer.
And now it’s unlikely will ever think they are just called Partick Thistle when you hear their name read out on the football results.
They are and forever will be, Partick Thistle Nil.
Even if they’ve scored three.
RIP Wee Scotty.
