I NEVER knew Jack Syme, but I think about him frequently. If I am honest, I think about him maybe once a week which is odd for someone I have never met. We shared many things in common. We both grew up in the Perth area, we were both boys who loved football and cherished it’s romantic past. My father’s name was Jack and his workmate in the old Co-op Creamery on Feus Road was called Tam Syme. So, the name Jack Syme speaks to me of the places and people I grew up with and so, for a whole host of memories, a boy I have never met regularly comes flitting to mind.

One thing that I do know about Jack Syme is that he understood the dark beauty of Kinnoull Hill, a Perth landmark which offers one of Scotland’s most remarkable views. It is a 400 ft craggy hillside with a sweeping view of the wandering River Tay as it makes its way to Dundee. ­According to history the ruined remnants of an old Tower that sits majestically on the ­summit, was a decorative landmark built by Thomas Hay, the ninth Earl of Kinnoull to remind him of the castles he admired on the Grand Tour of Europe.

For the people of Perth, Kinnoull Hill has a more macabre meaning, it is where many hundreds of desperate people have gone to end their lives when living felt too painful to comprehend.

It is where Jack Syme ended his young life, and we will never know why?

This week, the British Journal of ­Psychiatry published a report on teenage mental health. It makes sobering reading. Around 7% of children have attempted suicide and one-in-four have self-harmed. The prognosis is even gloomier. Many mental health professionals believe that the pandemic will have a yet unseen ­impact on the next generation of teenagers and students.

Rising unemployment, increased isolation, an over-reliance on online communication and a distressed work environment where the casual, part time and short-term gig economy is already prevalent. The future looks an unkind place and what it holds is predicted to worry away in the minds of young people, robbing them of the kind of hope, contact and life experiences they deserve.

Jack played for a talented Forfar u­nder-19 side, one of the most successful in the club’s history. Defying much bigger and better resourced clubs, they reached the final of the SPFL under-19 League Cup final, losing in the end to Hamilton Accies.

On the day Jack man-marked Eamonn Brophy, now a successful professional on loan to St Mirren from Kilmarnock. ­Brophy was selected to represent ­Scotland and Jack Syme made the lonely journey to the top of Kinnoull Hill.

Such are the fine margins between ­success and failure in professional ­football and so large are the hopes of young ­people that go into the game that there are inevitably many casualties. ­Brophy had already been rejected by ­Celtic and Hibernian for being too small, an ancient curse of Scottish football’s youth development. Jack Syme was still at Forfar and his death genuinely shocked the club – there had been no warning signs, no moment of crisis, nothing. Just a last sad tweet on his Twitter account three hours before he was last seen. It read: “Come tomorrow I’ll not be laughing”.

We know that youth suicide is not ­simply a matter of the psychology of mental health, there is a proven sociological dimension too. Those living in the most deprived areas of Scotland are three times more likely to take their own lives than those in the wealthiest and the waiting times for referrals to care services have been devastated by the pandemic.

The data map of youth suicide in ­Scotland reflects a pattern of ­ingrained deprivation. Areas hit by savage ­industrial decline inevitably rate highest. ­Motherwell, once the home of ­Ravenscraig, and so, a national symbol of industrial loss is one of the areas most blighted by youth suicide.

To their immense credit, Motherwell FC have recognised their responsibilities to the issue and are long-standing partners in a North Lanarkshire campaign to prevent suicide. The club has embraced an opportunity to raise awareness around what remains a sensitive subject. The club’s famous claret and amber strips carry the Suicide Prevention North Lanarkshire logo on their sleeves and the players are part of outreach programmes among their core supporter base and beyond.

FOOTBALL is implicated in both the underlying causes and the raised awareness of youth suicide. Like the creative industries, football often raises false hopes in young people, dangling the prospect of a glamorous life, which is difficult to deliver, even to the luckiest and most talented.

One reason that Jack Syme came into my mind this week is the cup final. This afternoon St Johnstone will play in the Betfred Cup against Livingston, a trophy the club has never won. The match day squad will arrive at Hampden with high hopes, one proud characteristic: at least seven of the players are from the club’s own development programme, one of the highest ratios in Scotland. The vast majority are Scottish born too.

Football is a notoriously short-term ­industry. Managers are rarely given time to shape a squad of their own, fans can be emotionally incontinent demanding ­either instant success or at least evidence of change and the finances that underpin the game never rest in a bank account long enough to accrue interest.

Football’s attitude to developing young people is superficially lauded by the glib term ‘academy players’ but most would ­attest that the system stinks and, in some clubs, their youth scheme is too bloated to develop anything other than disappointment.

Football managers are required to take tough decisions on young lives at moments of under-achievement, at a time of injury and often without clear reasoning. I have spoken to several young players who cannot even tell you what was expected of them and unlike other industries had been recruited with no clear objectives, no system of appraisal and next to nothing in the way of occupational support.

I have long since adjusted to emotional disappointment in football and so whatever the result of today’s cup final, our young players have been a credit. One person stands out for me. He is neither a star nor one of the glory players, but nothing would give me greater satisfaction than seeing St Johnstone’s towering centre back Liam Gordon holding the cup aloft.

Liam was brought up in the same scheme as me and played in the same youth development leagues as the late Jack Syme. He has worked tirelessly to get where he is and approaches games with fiery determination. The greatest accolade that I can pay Liam Gordon is that he puts in a shift. I accept this is “an analogue comment in the days of digital football” but there is something old-school about someone being rewarded for effort. Shape, tactics, and performance data can win the day but so too can pride, determination and dogged commitment.

And let us not forget losing either. Loss is not simply about the death of old ­legends. It is about the young people that get lost in the maze of football. It would be an intrusion into Jack Syme’s mind to claim that he was a victim of football, but it would be naïve to think that football was wholly innocent, too.