Conversation with Brian Rice flows easily. Brian Clough pounced to sign the red-haired midfielder after he failed to agree a contract with Hibernian in the summer of 1985. “Eff me, it’s Steve Davis,” roared Clough as Rice entered the manager’s office for the first time.
It took until September ‘85 for a tribunal to determine Nottingham Forest would have to pay Hibs close to £200,000 for Rice. He had been unable to play until that dispute was resolved. Clough bawled at Rice again as he walked on to the training pitch the following day. “‘You’ll need to go back to Scotland. I’d need to sell the stand to sign you son,’” Rice recalls.
“You should have seen the look on my face. Then he just started laughing. The following week I made my debut at Anfield. Every day was different. You didn’t know if you were training, going to play cricket or for an ice cream.”
Rice is still very welcome at Forest, where he is most fondly remembered for an audacious finish against Arsenal in a 1988 FA Cup quarter-final. He cites Johnny Metgod as the best player he lined up alongside. Rice also remembers how during a Clough rant at Metgod, the Dutch centre-back snapped back that Forest’s manager had signed him. “And I’ll sell you,” Clough retorted. A fortnight later, Metgod was a Tottenham player.
The trouble is, this endearing trip down memory lane is a precursor to Rice’s broader tale. He will begin the new Scottish season back in the top flight as Livingston’s head of football operations, a switch upstairs after time spent on the coaching staff. Rice will be a loss on the training pitch – he is widely regarded as a superb coach – and an inevitable success in his new post. The 61-year-old’s knowledge of football in Scotland is encyclopedic.
Rice did not begin gambling in the midst of Forest’s laddish culture. “Mine started when I was at school,” he says. “Throwing pennies against a wall, playing cards. I barely had a drink before I went to Nottingham because I wanted to be a football player and the training was intense. Drink really didn’t interest me, but I always gambled.
“My dad gambled every day but that was 5p or 10p and it was fun to him. It was fun to me to start with, then it escalated. It takes a grip of you. I knew I had a problem, a massive problem. But in those days, to ask for help was a sign of weakness. Now I know it is a massive sign of strength.”
Fast forward to January 2020 and the Scottish Football Association announce Rice, then the manager of Hamilton, has been given a 10-game ban for betting on matches. “October 15th,” he says. “I was going to watch Scotland Under-21s against Germany at Firhill. The phone went at half past four in the afternoon. It was the club secretary saying: ‘Brian, we have had the SFA on and they are going to investigate you regarding gambling in football.’ I said: ‘Thank God it is over.’
“I was so relieved it was finished. The next day I went in to see the club owner, told him everything and made sure we went to the SFA and did the same. I gave them everything.” A whispering campaign ensued, including one that suggested Rice bet on games involving his own clubs. That proved to never be the case throughout a decade’s worth of wagers the SFA examined.
Scottish football’s relationship with gambling is complex. Betting firms as sponsors are everywhere. Any harm attached to Rice’s episode was primarily to himself. “It was self-inflicted,” he says. “I knew I was doing wrong. I don’t make excuses about it.
“I don’t think in any other line of work you would be punished for having an addiction. You get help. But they did help me. Alongside the suspension, I had to go to meetings for a year. It was the best punishment they could ever have given me. I was going to three or four meetings a week and I still do that to this day. Those meetings have changed my life, educated me and let me know why I gambled. It has given me the foundations to have a better life. If I stop going there, my mindset could change again. I’m not ashamed, I am doing something about my problem.”
“I know of cases that have been swept under the carpet, that nobody knows about,” Rice adds. “Players reported to be injured at their club and they aren’t. I know that for a fact because I have spoken to the players. But I think it is better that way, better than the way it came out with me. People have families as well.”
Rice has had low points. Plenty of them. “I was on the top of the 32-storey building in Qatar and ready to step off it,” he says. “That’s where it took me.” His successful relationship with Falkirk counted for nothing when a fan used gambling as a means to abuse the then-manager at Alloa Athletic. “‘I hope it never happens to your family,’ I replied. It was horrible. They see it as banter and I have to take it. I didn’t that day because it was Falkirk and, to be fair to the club, they were fantastic. The guy didn’t have the guts to come forward.”
The 24-hour, 365-days availability of betting is unlike when Rice played on either side of the border and he believes he sold himself short with trips to the horse racing, casino or bookie when he could have been training. He also urges young footballers to get in touch if they fear gambling issues are spiralling out of control.
“I know the signs to look for,” Rice says. “In six years, I have helped more than a dozen players and am still doing so now. Players think it is a quick fix; stop gambling for a month and I’ll be cured. It’s not stopping gambling, which can be quite easy; it’s changing your habits. I had to completely change the way I lived, even the way I drove home so I wasn’t passing five betting shops. Fill your day better.”
The day after our chat, I message Rice to express gratitude for his candour. “It’s my story and I’ve nothing left to hide from nowadays,” he replies. “Thanks again.” Judgment should include the fact he is one of the game’s good guys.
In the UK, Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org. You can contact the mental health charity Mind by calling 0300 123 3393 or visiting mind.org.uk
