When Brian Gilmour arrived at Sincil Bank in November 2009, he was something of a mystery figure.
A product of Rangers’ youth setup, Gilmour had never made a senior appearance for the Scottish giants, and his career by that point had already been a tale of movement. He had featured in Scotland’s First Division with Clyde and Queen of the South, tasted European football with Finnish side FC Haka, and even had a trial spell under Ian Holloway at Blackpool. His CV hinted at potential, if not consistency.
At 22 years old, Gilmour joined Lincoln City under Chris Sutton, a manager still finding his feet after succeeding Peter Jackson. The Imps were once again floating in the lower reaches of League Two, and Sutton was reshaping the squad to avoid a relegation dogfight. Gilmour, on paper, seemed an intriguing addition — a technically gifted midfielder, someone who might offer a bit more guile and attacking spark in an often workmanlike midfield.
He made his debut in a 3–1 FA Cup victory over Northwich Victoria, but his start to life in Lincolnshire was slow. He struggled to break into the team initially, often named on the bench or left out entirely. When he did get minutes, they were usually brief and in unfamiliar roles. It wasn’t until the final third of the season that Gilmour began to see regular action, often deployed in central midfield — a position he hadn’t consistently occupied in previous stints.
Gilmour’s 2009/10 season with the Imps can best be described as a campaign of contrasts. On one hand, he played 17 matches and clocked up over 1,300 minutes — not an insignificant total for a mid-season arrival. On the other, his impact varied wildly. He showed promise in flashes, producing moments of incisive passing and direct running that caught the eye. But those flashes were exactly that: fleeting.
He scored his first goal for the club in a 2–1 defeat to Bradford City, a strike that briefly ignited hope that he could become a more regular attacking threat. He followed that with another goal in a 2–2 draw at Grimsby Town — albeit one tinged with disappointment, as he had earlier missed a penalty in that match. Still, his reaction to the miss — continuing to push forward, getting into scoring positions — suggested character and appetite, even if execution didn’t always follow.
There were moments in that mid-season run when Gilmour looked like he might be a useful cog in Sutton’s machine. He played with energy and showed tidy technical skills, particularly when City looked to keep possession in tight spaces. His left foot was cultured, and he occasionally delivered decent set-pieces. But consistency was always the issue. One week he’d be busy and dynamic, the next game anonymous.
As the season entered its final stretch, Gilmour’s influence waned. While he’d briefly worked his way into Sutton’s plans, he ended the season on a whimper. His performances became increasingly peripheral, and supporters started to question whether he had the physicality or bite for a League Two midfield battle.
One moment from that period lingers in fan memory — a late-season clash at Aldershot Town where Gilmour found himself clean through on goal, only to slice the chance wide of the target. It felt symbolic: a player with the technical skills to be decisive, but lacking the composure or confidence to follow through.
He wasn’t the only one who struggled in that forgettable campaign. The club itself was drifting through yet another lower-table finish, and Sutton — while steadying the ship — had yet to form anything resembling a cohesive or balanced side. The midfield was constantly shuffled, and players like Gilmour suffered from a lack of continuity.
Despite the downturn in form, Sutton offered Gilmour a new contract at the end of the season. It raised eyebrows. Many assumed the club would cut its losses and reshape the midfield again. But Sutton, who valued hard work and adaptability, perhaps saw something worth developing. Or maybe he simply felt Gilmour hadn’t been given a full opportunity to showcase his abilities.
Either way, the player failed to agree personal terms and left in July 2010. It was a quiet exit, the kind that barely raises a headline but is quietly filed away under “what might have been.”
After leaving Lincoln, Gilmour resumed the nomadic nature of his career. In July 2011, he joined KA Akureyri in Iceland’s second tier. It was an unconventional move, but not an unusual one for players in his situation — technically capable, still young, and looking for a fresh start away from the often brutal grind of the English lower leagues.
Gilmour spent two seasons in Iceland, and by most accounts, enjoyed a decent spell there. He played regularly, appeared to mature as a midfielder, and took on more responsibility in a less physically intense league. In November 2013, he returned to Scotland, signing a short-term deal with Ayr United, and extended that contract through to 2018.
His second wind at Ayr brought stability at last. Gilmour played multiple seasons at Somerset Park and became a regular for the club. Though he never ascended to the heights expected of him as a Rangers youth prospect, he finally found a home — a club that valued his attributes and gave him a prolonged spell to make a difference. He was released in 2018, and by then had amassed over 100 appearances for the Honest Men.
Brian Gilmour’s time at Lincoln City won’t live long in the club’s folklore, but it does deserve to be remembered — if not celebrated. He was emblematic of a period in the club’s history marked by uncertainty, transition, and short-term fixes. Gilmour was one of several players who came and went without ever truly finding their place — not because they lacked talent, but because the team itself lacked stability and direction.
There’s an argument that Gilmour arrived at the wrong club at the wrong time. A more settled squad, a clearer tactical identity, and a manager with a defined role for him might have brought out his best. His touch and technique weren’t in question. What he needed was a framework — the kind of structure that allows a creative player to play without fear. Lincoln couldn’t offer that in 2009/10.