THE UNLIKELY SUPERSTAR 
- by Davie Caldwell

When I was given the chance to spend the day with top flight match angler Billy St Clair of the world famous Match Group 'Coatbridge Buckies', I could hardly contain myself, even though it meant giving up my ticket to see Scotland take on Brazil in the World Cup Final in Paris.

I'd worshipped the ground Billy has walked on for over twenty-five years. I don't know whether its the fame, cosmetic surgery or that favourite tipple supplied by his team sponsors Fastbuck Abbey, the man simply has not aged, he still doesn't look a day over fifty.

Billy & the Coatbridge Buckies collect their 14th Scottish League Trophy in a row

I'd arranged to meet him at his favourite venue the Monklands Canal where his team was meeting to practise for the forthcoming World Club Championship being fished on the famed Manchester Ship Canal, where his team hoped to retain their title.

He struggled down through the daisy fields to his favourite swim - peg 23 on the basin. He proceeded to unload his trolley, first off was his custom built Conti-box which is almost as famous as he is. It resembled an MFI chest of drawers. He opened one of the drawers and took out a handful of home-made floats (they don't look very good but Billy tells me they are superb and that's good enough for me). He gave them out to all the young boys who came to watch, that's Billy's trademark, he's always got time for the young boys. 

Next off the trolley was his net holdall, out of this he took at least a dozen three pint bait boxes. Last of all he lifted eight or nine pieces of scaffolding which he tells me he has specially adapted for his Conti-box. He then sent one of the young boys back up to Asda with the trolley! He set about the task of setting up his gear. His 'scaffolding' has, amongst other things, a bait waiter, keep net and feeder arm and a pole rest that will not move an inch - no matter how strong the wind will blow he assured me. It may have looked crude but his pole rigs were more delicate than any I have ever seen.

I settled down behind Billy for what was no doubt going to be a lesson in the art of top class match angling. I listened intently as he explained his approach. He told me that the canal had fished well all week as it often does. He was going to start on the near shelf with the 3 metre whip and hopefully 'knock-out' 3-4 lbs to get good section points before going for 'Individual glory' during the last four hours. He was going to split his swim into three, the nearside swim with the whip, one at 16 metres for the pole, and the third over the far bank with the feeder. His team-mates were trying slight variations, mainly with groundbait mixes.

BAIT MENU

Scattered strategically around Billy were his bait, several packs of bloodworm and jokers, six pints of squatts, four pints of pinkies, two pints of maggots, a bucket of lobworms, half a pint of milky-white home bred gozzers and four packets of strawberry boillies. He had three different groundbait mixes all of which smelled good enough to eat. 

He added a small handful of pinkies to one mix and I notices something amazing immediately. They starting crawling the 'right' way, but in small circles. I looked at Billy and he gave me a wry smile. Was this the secret of his success? When I quizzed him about this he wasn't too keen on explaining why they crawled the 'right' way. He said imagine that I was a fish (this is how he examines everything he does) "What is more unnatural, a maggot crawling backwards or a maggot crawling forward?" That makes a lot of sense to me. I wonder what other miracles are going to emerge from this great man's book of tricks.

I sat myself down once more as Billy fumbled about inside his Conti-box and came out with a jeweller's eyepiece and proceeded to tie a size 26 hook onto a 4 oz hooklength by hand. He started to plumb the depth with his 16 metre 'Fyffes Special Modular' pole, each time he found the depth he would unship the pole and take out his tape measure and note the depth in his log book. A large and knowledgeable gallery had already gathered behind us, anticipating that something special was about to happen. They were not to be disappointed.

I must admit to feeling in awe of this superb angler. He started feeding close in with jokers, and catapulted strawberry boillies over to the far shelf to tempt the large carp that normally cruise up and down there. Next he put four 'tennis balls' of groundbait solid with squatts and casters onto the 16 metre line to tempt the massive bream shoals that are found in the canal.

From the 'off' the bites came immediately on the whip, first a gudgeon, then a skimmer, and a ten ounce roach, this continued non-stop for almost an hour, he was like a machine. He doesn't look like a superstar, but neither does Martina Navratilova.

On the hour mark he reckoned he had 11-12 lbs and said it was time to give the near swim a rest. First 'put in' on the 16 metre line his float dipped, a slight lift with the pole and he was playing a 5 lbs slab. In no time he slipped his net under it, the fish was soon safely in his keepnet. His finishing was as clinical as Mo Johnson's. 

Second 'put in' his float barely settled before sliding under into the fish filled depths. Another 'slab', 4 lbs this time. Again he made short work of it. This went on for the next two hours almost unabated until on one occasion the float slid under, this time hesitantly. He lifted his pole again and all hell let loose. His elastic stretched to what seemed like the same length as his pole, a carp, a good one at that. He unshipped sections, added sections for almost an hour. Eventually the fish tired. She came to the surface, totally exhausted. Billy coolly slid a borrowed pike landing net under a beautifully conditioned mirror carp of around 25 lbs. 

Applause echoed round the daisy fields. Size 26 hook, 4 oz hooklength and a No 1 elastic. He'd won a titanic battle, he acknowledged the gallery's cheers for the first time that day and even managed a smile before getting back to his task.

He started to mix some more groundbait. He opened a little door on the side of his Conti-box and took a green plastic 2 litre bottle from it. He emptied the remainder of its contents into groundbait bowl. The smell was familiar. He added some maggots, again they started to crawl the 'right' way. This once more aroused my curiosity. For the first time I was distracted from my hero, my eyes stared at this green plastic bottle. What was in it? 

I reached out towards it, my hands were shaking with excitement. I lifted it and unscrewed the lid. I poured the remaining dribbles onto the back of my hand and, as I put my hand up to my mouth to taste the liquid, Billy spotted me and put his finger up to lips. "Hush" he said. It dawned on me immediately what it was. FASTBUCK the maggots were P----d! I find it truly amazing, Coatbridge has a chain of stores selling the stuff and nobody has twigged to the 'big man's' success.

I can remember Billy starting to take fish once more on the whip as I lay back in the July sunshine. I intended to emulate Billy's success at a match on the canal the following weekend.

I lay there, feeling the warmth of the summer sun on my cheeks, I was looking at the wonderful blue sky. All I could hear were the water hens squeaking away in the reeds. I was alone with my thoughts. Billy must have had over a 'ton' in his two keep nets. This was nothing unusual for Billy there was nobody to touch him, but now I knew his secret...... well anything was possible.

I must have dozed off. I was awakened by what I thought was Billy lifting his bulging keepnet from the water. I was absolutely soaking wet. It turned out to be my old pal Wullie Sinclair opening yet another bottle of Fastbuck. Where was Billy? It was all a dream. No such person as Billy St Clair. No big bag of fish, matter of fact no fish at all.

I had fallen asleep helping my pal Willie Sinclair polish off 3 or 4 bottles of Fastbuck while he was showing me his home-made floats.

Well nothing else for it, back to the drawing board.