SIDELINE CUT:They may have penned a song about Andy Gray to the tune of the popular programme Happy Daysbut the Sky presenter, along with his sidekick Richard Keys, was far from cool, writes KEITH DUGGAN

IN ANDY Gray's halcyon days – before he was "outed" as a sparky 1980s football bloke who made it big in the football scene in England turned bigmouth TV personality who somehow retained a chauvinistic sensibility and a leery line in humour – the Dundee fans used to sing: "Who's the boy with the golden hair: Andy Gray, Andy Gray." The Bradford fans chorus ran along the lines of "Andy Gray, Andy Gray: When he gets the ball, he does F*** All, Andy Gray." And best of all, the Prescot Cables FC supporters sometimes sing – to the tune of the Fonz and Happy Days: "Sunday Monday, Andy Gray! Tuesday, Wednesday Andy Gray! Thursday, Friday Andy Gray! Saturday! Andy Gray! Working All Week for You-ooh-ooh."

Well, no more. There must have been many, many people women and men – who found themselves wondering who in the hell Andy Gray was and why they were hearing so much about him. Leaders of nations have left office with less fuss than surrounded the Scotsman’s sacking from Sky Sports this week, a dismissal which was followed by the resignation of his long-time Sky companion Richard Keys.

Among the gleeful hammering that Keys and Gray took this week, there have been a few guarded observations that their contribution to the evolution of television football could not be overlooked. But even on that front, Keys and Gray will not be long missed. They were, without doubt, the strangest sports combination ever to make it before a television camera.

Saint And Greavsie, naff as they were all those years ago, made sense. Des Lynam, in his best days, looked and sounded as if he had been sent by God with the specific mission to front BBC’s sports repertoire. There was a certain daffy enjoyment also to be had in the presentational style of Jimmy Hill, with his enthusiasm, his terrible jokes and spectacular chin.

Then, all of a sudden, Sky television was dreamed up and there were no live games for the BBC left to cover and football fans found themselves seeking out cavernous pubs at midday on Saturday or on Sunday afternoons to be confronted with the Keys and Gray show.

Out of all the fading stars of the dark 1980s England football culture, it seemed peculiar that Sky decided that Gray was the man they wanted to front their revolution. He had been, as he might say himself, a quality player, courageous and a reliable goal scorer but he was hardly the biggest household name of that era. Nor did he possess the cabaret ease of many of the parade of ex-football men who have passed through the Match of the Daystudios down the years.

And Richard Keys was even more of a mystery, a half forgotten morning breakfast show host before his reinvention. He was like a guy who had wandered from the set of Bergeracand into the Sky studio and they gave him a go at presenting the football show because there was nobody else around.

And so it began, with Gray bellowing his way through the entire 1990s and bouncing around Sky Sport’s gadgets and gizmos like someone who had knocked back half a gallon of Red Bull just before coming on air. Could anyone on this good earth get as excited about a headed clearance by Warren Barton as Andy Gray?

Keys, meanwhile, honed presentational style that always seemed kind of hard and soulless. He smirked a lot, as if he knew something you didn’t (like the offside rule, for instance). One of the many weird titbits of information that emerged after this “scandal” was that Keys happens to possess a somewhat hirsute pair of hands and once higher definition TV was introduced, he was required to wax the old paws lest his audience take fright – which seems sort of unfair and sexist in its own right. It also seems like an unfair and needless scrutiny of a man who is having a bad week, even if the idea of Richard waving a set of werewolf Jimmy Shands around the Sky studios is amusing.

But for 20 years, Keys and Gray were a constant force in English football. Players, managers – even clubs – came and went but Keys and Gray were always with us, winter after winter, season after season. They were on the road together. And that was ultimately their downfall: they became too comfortable and complacent and felt untouchable. And maybe, too, they became jaded.

However offensive you find the clips of Gray hassling his co-presenter Charlotte Jackson (who looks bored rather than offended by Gray's line of Carry Onhumour) is up to you.

Equally, how you regard Key’s comments in Sky’s television studio at Stamford Bridge, when he quizzes Jamie Redknapp about a former relationship with an unnamed girl (whom Keys refers to as “it”) is a matter for yourself. But one of two things is true: either the recorded clips were out of character – a temporary departure from their normal chivalrous selves – and Gray and Keys were deeply unfortunate that their comments were recorded.

Or else this was just a random 20 seconds of the kind of guff that they spoke all the time, for 20 years. One of the striking things about that clip where Keys is sitting with the ex-pros – Graeme Souness, Ruud Gullit and Redknapp – is just how incredibly bored they all look. It is like a particularly desolate scene from David Brent’s office. (And also, Keyes anxiety to impress Redknapp brings to mind one of Brent’s cover-your-eyes moments).But those marathon Sky match-day productions must involve hours and hours of waiting around drinking bad coffee. So for Keys and Gray, it meant years and years of hanging around, waiting for showbiz. And talking.

It seems a safe bet that Gray and Keys probably said plenty of stuff that could have landed them in hot water down the years, private gossip traded as the camera men rolled up the cables and the lights were dimmed; stuff about managers, players, the ubiquitous wives and girlfriends (Isn’t it demeaning to be referred to as a WAG? Would have thought so), referees, club owners, television reporters and pretty much every connected to their industry. They would have talked shop, in other words, in the manner in which they were comfortable.

It seems a fair guess that Andy Gray is probably a bit bewildered by what has happened over the last week. And for Keys, too, the fall from grace has been swift and stunning. They are probably genuine when they say that they meant to cause no offence. But once those clips were broadcast, there was only going to be one result. And the twist was that Sky’s football men just didn’t seem to understand that they had wandered offside.

Now, the word is that Keys and Gray might be off to front football for Al-Jazeera television. At least Qatar will be warmer than Blackburn v Wigan on a wet Wednesday night. Don’t know what they will make of those burkas, though.

Ah, it’s a funny old game, Saint.