He’s the man at the heart of one of the most significant moments in Scottish football history.
Yet so little is known about SPFL chief executive Neil Doncaster, a key player in events that could change the game in this country forever.
The Rangers crisis of 2012 should have been the toughest challenge of his Hampden tenure.
But the Covid-19 outbreak, the subsequent shutdown and the almighty fallout – which football finance expert Kieran Maguire suggested was a battle between sporting integrity and financial sustainability – is on another level altogether.
In a story of rights and wrongs, and needs and wants, it’d be hard to cast Doncaster – a man forever under pressure – as the villain of the piece.
Not that criticism fazes the married father-of-three, whose salary in 2019 was £388,000 after securing a new five-year TV deal with Sky Sports worth around £126 million.
Nearly seven years have passed since I was invited to the national stadium to interview the former solicitor and security guard about his life outside of football.
He was courteous, relaxed and what followed were some distinctly un-Doncaster tales, such as the time he was forced to eject an intoxicated gentleman from Woolworths.
There was also a private Pink Floyd gig as Dave Gilmour and Co sound-checked in the summer of 1990 and a recollection of his days as a rocker, with a passion for AC/DC, in the 1980s.
The 50-year-old, born in Devon, said: “I did security for things like concerts, shops and office buildings.
“It had its moments [like the Woolworths incident].
“I suppose doing this kind of job helped me come up with the idea of a security company when I was at Norwich City [serving as company secretary, head of operations and chief executive].
“In life you have experiences, some are good and some are bad, but hopefully most are interesting.
“I also saw Pink Floyd doing a sound check at Knebworth the night before a gig. Myself and three or four other security guys had the concert played out to us. It was brilliant.
“Being brought up in the 1980s in London was a terrific time. The music scene was great.
“I didn’t have the long hair though. My hair tends to grow out sideways. But I had the leather jacket.”
He added: “When I was a student I had a whole host of jobs. I got to experience different roles.
“I was a security guard, I worked for British Gas for a while, and I worked in a bank and on a checkout.
“These are jobs where you are kept engaged, pushed and stretched at all times. The days flashed by.”
Doncaster – promoted to one of the top jobs in the Scottish game after the SPL and SFL merger in 2013 – said his escapism from Glasgow’s goldfish bowl came on the farm at his rented cottage in Strathaven, Lanarkshire.
“It’s a lovely place to be,” he said. “If you walk through Glasgow city centre you always hear a few opinions on the game.
“But the cows and the sheep down on the farm tend to keep them to themselves.”
Unsurprisingly, with vitriol overshadowing virtue in Scottish football’s online debate, social media was off limits for the Hampden chief.
He wanted his wife to steer clear of the sports pages as well.
Doncaster, who arrived in Scotland as SPL chief executive over a decade ago, added: “It’s important to develop a thick skin. Otherwise, you will spend your life burning up inside.
“You need to stay calm and make decisions the game needs, rather than fret about how you are perceived.”
But in August 2018, just months before securing a new five-year TV deal with Sky Sports worth around £126 million, Doncaster revealed doing the job he loved had come at a cost to his personal life.
He told the Daily Record: “Initially, my wife came up with me to Scotland. Our children were born here.
“But it was around that same time that the older one had to start school. The amount of flack I was getting made us think it was probably a good idea for them to go to school elsewhere.
“We were even receiving advice from the police over our safety so, with that in mind, it became a relatively straightforward decision.
“So that’s the lifestyle we have now. The family live elsewhere and I spend most of my time up here.”
Sitting in a Hampden conference room five years earlier, it was clear Doncaster had already become accustomed to the colourful, chaotic and occasionally menacing aspects of the game on these shores.
He said: “If you don’t enjoy a job like this, you won’t enjoy any jobs. The level of interest is incredible.
“The strength and passion that exists up here, unless you’ve lived in it, is difficult to convey.
“I’m involved in big issues affecting the game and it is a massive privilege. I never get out of bed to face a dull day.”
