Paul Fitzpatrick: March 2026

Most mornings I embark on my dog walk with a pre-selected podcast downloaded and ready to go. No surprise to learn that my listening is dominated by football, although there’s a fair bit of music, politics and culture in the mix as well.

On the football podcasts in particular I seem to have developed a habit of audibly contesting points I don’t agree with, which confuses the bejesus out of my four legged companion, Cooper.

The other morning, I was due to play one of my regular podcasts, but following the result of the previous days fixture, I couldn’t bring myself to listen to it. My team had been knocked out the cup by our city rivals and a blow by blow account of our failure didn’t appeal…. it was too soon.

I thought any football related ailments would be over when I stopped playing, but to quote the Italian maestro Andrea Pirlo… “the game is played in your head“.

What followed I guess was a moment of reflection where I pondered why my mood and daily routine should be affected so much by something that materially doesn’t matter, after all ‘it’s only a game’.

This chain of thought was probably inspired by a recent reading of ‘Meditations’, a series of writings by Marcus Aurelius, a Roman Emperor from the second century and a proponent of Stoic philosophy.

Stoicism centres on the dichotomy of control and forwards the idea that “you have power over your mind, not outside events”. This is all well and good, but accepting the uncontrollable with equanimity is not always possible, especially after an Old Firm defeat!

My temporary state of mind got me thinking about a chap who worked in a Glasgow jeans factory that I used to have an interest in. This guy was skilled in a specific operation that the rest of the production line relied on. Basically if he was absent it was a problem.
He was affable and generally reliable but possessed a fatal flaw…. he was so emotionally invested in a certain football team that he couldn’t get out of his bed on a Monday if his team lost on a Sunday.

Now, fortunately this was in the 90s when ‘his team’ didn’t lose very often, but even the best, suffer defeat now and again.

Although everyone knew the score (pun intended) he’d come up with multiple reasons for his intermittent Monday no-shows…. funerals, flu, diarrhoea, hay fever (in January) and once when he was on a final warning he claimed he’d been shaving his beard but dropped the razor injuring his penis, resulting in a visit to A&E, (try challenging that one!)

On reflection I think the guy was born in the wrong era.
These days a quick email to HR citing mental health and he could have gone back to bed. In fact, nowadays there are multiple companies who offer their employees a certain number of ‘Free Mental Health Days’ where if you wake up feeling a bit rubbish, you can just cosy up, watch Homes Under the Hammer or go for a leisurely game of golf.

Changed days…. the 70s version of HR as I remember it was basically your parents, your partner or your boss recommending that you just “give yourself a shake” and get on with it.

I think it’s fair to say that ‘mental health’ meant something different in our day.

Perhaps we were too staunch, brought up by generations of parents and grandparents who had endured world wars and rationing. A steadfastness that’s been diluted over generations.

If you want to compare robustness in 2026 to 1976, take a quick peek inside your medicine cabinet.

Our 70s stockholding comprised of Elastoplast, Germolene, Aspirin and Andrews Liver Salts, whereas we now stockpile a decent chunk of Boots pharmacy department, for all eventualities.

They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing and maybe we’re just too overloaded with information these days. Bombarded with health articles and data, a lot of it conflicting – drink red wine, don’t drink red wine, walk 10k steps, nah, that’s too many, eggs are good for you, eggs are bad for you, yaddah yaddah.

Even our phones and watches are getting in on the act. I went to watch my team in Glasgow recently, the atmosphere was incredible, but my watch kept alerting me to the fact that I was in a ‘Loud Environment that could lead to hearing loss’, thank God that app wasn’t around when I went to see The Who, or Deep Purple at the Apollo in 74.

After my ‘trauma’, I’m happy to report that my state of melancholy didn’t last too long. In fact I was back in the saddle the following day. Listening to said podcast and cursing out-loud my teams lack of creativity and bottle. Cooper’s tail was once again wagging away, happy that I was back to my old self. Safe in the knowledge that his walking partner was back to putting the mental into mental health.