People could see by your actions on the park that you cared about it. If we got beat, I'd fling the Sunday papers in the bin and wouldn't read them.

When you ran out the tunnel at the old Easter Road for a derby game, you'd get a spittal right on the back of your head. They were spitting on you as you ran out, which actually helped get you going. It was some place.

Hearts was the pinnacle of my career. After I left, it really was downhill. Hearts is the club I always associate myself with, and I'm proud to have played for them.

I felt like they only cared about what I could do for them, not what they could do for me.

Sunday afternoon is for papers and writing.

Well, all I know is what I read in the papers.