22h
22h
The ball was fired across the turf towards the fledgling midfielder with an almighty lick. How was his touch? Velvet‚ as it happens. Next? Nothing which followed that morning at Riccarton drew anything more than approving looks from the seasoned professionals who were running the rule over the precocious talent in their midst. Those present recall there wasn't a trace of fear in Keir McMeekin's body when in possession. There was a grace in the way he moved‚ a natural-born footballer.