Scottish Football Reminiscences and Sketches

J. M'Laren

The finest half-back of the Irish combination is undoubtedly Mr. J. M'Laren, and in this tie his play was really magnificent. When the Volunteers' forwards again and again got near the Celtic goal, he was the first to checkmate them, and, not contented to work his own place successfully, frequently went to the assistance of some of the forwards when he thought they had more than enough to do. He played for his old club, the Hibernian, against Wales in 1888, and in 1889 against England for the Celtic.

M. Dunbar

Mr. Dunbar was one of the most active men in the Celtic forward division in this match, and showed very good dribbling, but was easily tackled when getting near goal, and more than once "removed" off the ball by Auld and Lochhead. He is, however, a steady worker, and most reliable when backing up. Mr. Dunbar, if I am not mistaken, was at one time a member of the Cartvale, and played for Scotland against Ireland for that club in 1886.

R. M'Callum

In his general style of play Mr. M'Callum was not unlike Mr. William M'Kinnon (Dumbarton), who flourished from 1881 to 1885, and was one of the best forwards in that county. He was not such a tricky and cunning tackler, however, but faced up to his man with a confidence that betokened superiority. He was, like the rest of the Celtic forwards, a good dribbler, and possessed considerable speed. For a young player he was also very judicious in passing the ball, and during this contest he helped to start some of the best runs of the day. He played against Ireland, at Belfast, in 1888, and is now located in Blackburn, where he partners Harry Campbell on the right wing of the Rovers.

W. Groves

It was in the final tie for the Scottish Challenge Cup between the Hibernian and Dumbarton in 1887, which the crack Edinburgh team won by two goals to one, that brought Mr. Groves into special notice, and it may be, for aught I know, caused him to be carried off by the Celtic later on. Like a good many other players, he varies a bit in his style. Some days he is easily tackled; while at others not a single back or half-back on the field has a chance with him, and it must be said of him that he is one of the neatest dribblers of the day. He played against Wales in 1888.

J. Coleman

Among the forward division of the Celtic, Mr. Coleman was a decided acquisition, and during that same season scored a lot of goals for the new Irish combination, which came to the front with something like the rapidity of "Jonah's gourd." A beautiful dribbler and runner, he made several grand spurts towards the 3rd L.R.V. goal, but had a weakness for keeping the ball too long, and was often tackled by the sure feet of Rae and Thomson. In speed and general play he reminded me very much of Mr. William Miller (3rd L.R.V.), an International against England as far back as 1876.

T. Maley

When the whole of the Celts were at their best, and this happened pretty often last season in their Challenge Cup ties, Mr. T. Maley generally rose to the occasion, and led his team brilliantly. His steady-going style is much liked, not only by his colleagues, but spectators, and it is quite a rare thing to see him grassed by an opponent. When approaching the goal with the ball, he is like the priest who had a "wonderful way wid him" – slipping through the backs in a manner that is sure to make the goalkeeper gnash his teeth, and wish Maley was far enough away.

V. – THE PIONEERS OF ASSOCIATION FOOTBALL IN SCOTLAND;

OR,

"THE CONQUEROR'S FOOTBALL BOOTS."

My football boots are getting what might be called shabby genteel now, and no wonder. If they could speak they would tell you many a strange episode in the life of an Association football player, and how he kept his place in a leading club for nearly a dozen years. They have been old and dear friends, those well-worn boots, and although now somewhat curled up at the toes, have kicked many a good goal out of a hot and exciting scrummage in front of an opponent's upright posts, and even in an International tussle; but now that they, like myself, have retired from active duty, and may reasonably be supposed not to be encumbered with existing prejudices, which in the nature of things might more or less interfere with expressing an honest opinion about the Association football player of the past or his colleagues and successors, I will introduce them to you, and in figurative language allow them to tell their own unvarnished tale. My last advice, however, to you, my old friends, before leaving you to the tender mercies of a scribbler, is not to answer all the questions he thinks proper to put. Please don't tell him what you heard or saw after leaving the football field clinging to my sole and instep, of my love intrigues, my stolen interviews with blue-eyed Annie, and when she jilted me and got married to Charlie Quilter, who played "left wing" in the Flying Blues. Charlie must have regretted what he did more than once.

The Blues used to play us a couple of games in the year, and not long before Charlie got married he was, as a matter of course, one of their eleven. On that occasion I felt nettled to think that a big, broosy-faced, lisping fellow like Charlie should have "put my eye out," and could not resist the temptation of frequently crossing to his side during the game, and "going" for him. Oh! how my old companions, my boots, behaved on the occasion – the very laces almost burst with indignation; but Quilter, poor soul, never gave a winch, and bore it with becoming fortitude. He has now, like myself, got settled in life (I am a confirmed bachelor), and we are still the best of friends, for that "blue-eyed Annie loved him, too," was one of those things I could never forget. It is too bad, however, in me to block the way with this dissertation, and not allow Mr. Boots to begin. I shall leave the rest to him with confidence.

Well, once upon a time (began Mr. Boots), I was a combination of circumstances. That is to say, I went through many processes even before I became mature leather, and one afternoon I was brought to a small shoemaker's shop in Crosshill tied up in a bundle. There were lots of cuttings in that bundle – butt, ben, wrapper, cordivan, kid, calf-skin, and even sheep-skin – but I was then a shapeless piece of wrapper, kipp, and calf-skin. When I was trysted there were few, if any, football boots made, and the old man who was entrusted with my construction was a strange old "cove." He could make a pair of ordinary boots with any one, but was not so sure about me. I was ordered by a genteel, nice-looking lad, with red cheeks and clear black eyes. He addressed the representative of St. Crispin in a musical voice, but I then formed an opinion of my future master, that he would be a little conceited and arrogant at times, and this has proved correct. The instructions about covering my soles with bars was specially impressed on the old man's memory, and every detail was carried out to the letter. When we were completed, my brother and I, you would have admired us. If it were possible to have anything handsome in the boot line, except, perhaps, a tiny, fur-lined lady's slipper, it was us. We were sewed with substantial rosen-end, the division between the inseam and soles was filled up with real leather skivings, and not the trashy "jump" which makes up the bulk of the soles of football boots nowadays. The more, in fact, I think of it, the more I am convinced that the present make of football boots is a new-fangled device in the shoemaking trade, for are they not now got up of American leather, brass nails, and other abominations, free of import duty! My master, I remember, came for me (please consider that I am also representing my brother, for, like the Siamese twins, the one can do nothing without the other) on a Saturday. He told the old man that he was going to play a match with the Leven Crowers that very afternoon, and must have me. I was barely finished, but Tate's son got the bars put on all right, and I was handed over to the tender mercies of my new master. He was quite delighted with my appearance, and looked with pride, and even satisfaction, on my well-polished uppers and wrapper soles. There was even a half-'un going at the paying.

The Leven Crowers were a young and powerful club, possessing more speed in running than any real football ability at the time. The club to which my master belonged was the first to introduce the new ideas in the game, as they were then called, in Scottish soil, and as there were only three clubs in existence at the time of which I am referring, the contests, as a matter of course, were few and far between, and, consequently, looked forward to with more than ordinary pleasure. The other two clubs were the Greenvale and the Kilback, but they were not of much account (so my master had often said, and he was supposed to be a good judge). I heard him say the Conquerors had "licked" these clubs over and over again, and that they weren't in the same street. When I was being laced up, however, for the fray that afternoon in the old toll-house on the road to Battlefield (the Conquerors had no such modern requisite as a pavilion then), I heard Bob Gardens express quite a different opinion about the Greenvale, and even go the length of saying that they had a draw with them on the previous evening after a hard fight. This demonstrated a fact that was useful to me in my subsequent career, viz., never to credit what other folks (especially football players) said about the ability of opponents in the heat of a tussle. Talking about the Leven Crowers, they were not to be despised. Although the haughty Conquerors had given them their first lesson in Association football, they were fast coming up on them in some of the points of the game. I heard my owner say that the first lesson was given at Alexandria, and on that occasion the Crowers, who were then crack shinty players, arranged themselves in the field as if for a match at that ancient Scottish game. That they had not forgotten their first game with the Conquerors was amply illustrated in the present, which, I might again repeat, was my first outset in public life. I was stiff at first, and pressed my master's instep rather hard shortly after the kick-off. The contest was played on the Recreation Ground, and was witnessed by very few spectators. True, there were certainly many choice spirits residing near the spot, who came out to see us and enjoy a quiet outing, and have a friendly crack.

Little did these club companions imagine that that small but enthusiastic gathering of spectators was the harbinger of crowds composed of thousands of excited spectators who now assemble to witness big Association matches every Saturday, not only to see the Conquerors, but other clubs, very slightly removed from them in ability, playing "Cup ties." The Crowers' forwards showed great pace, and one of them, Will Cumming, repeatedly got past me, despite the smart manœuvring of my master. Will, however, was somewhat wild in his dribbling, and could not keep the ball close enough to his toes. Jim Wild was my master's backer up on the occasion, and as Jim was decidedly the finest dribbler that ever toed a ball, and kept his place for ten years against all comers, afterwards the pair managed to intercept Cumming before he got close enough on goal to make a shot. The Crowers' goalkeeper was a good one, and could clear his place of defence with great ability, but the backs were not of much account. Pate M'Wherry and Luke M'Tavish did the work at half-back, but their kicking was somewhat feeble when compared with those of the Conquerors, Tom James and Willie Keith. The Conquerors were far too anxious to score, and for some time kept up a close cannonade at their opponents' goal without effect. Bob Prentice used his hands cleverly, and, though the goal was again and again endangered, not one of the forwards on my master's side could get the ball under the tape. A fine run was made by Wild, Lucky, Grind, Short, and my master, and the ball brought up to within a few feet of the Crowers' goal, but at the last second, Johnny Forrester, one of their centre forwards, kicked it behind. This gave the Conquerors the corner flag-kick. My master, who was quite an adept at corner flag-kicks, was sent to the spot, and placed the ball in a good position, but Bob Prentice got it up in his hands at a critical moment, and threw it clear. Good runs were eventually made on both sides, and once the Crowers nearly lowered our colours, but nothing was got by either, and the game was drawn. In those days the rules observed were somewhat different from those in vogue now. The game was far prettier. There was none of that heading which forms such important factors in the style of modern playing. When the ball was thrown in from the touch-line the rule insisted that it had first to land on the ground before being touched, and consequently head play was unnecessary, and dribbling was, as a matter of course, considered the most important point, combined with taking smart possession of the ball as soon as it touched the ground after being thrown in. My master was smart at getting on the leather, and, next to Jim Wild, he was the most accomplished dribbler in the Conquerors. If there is anyone capable of telling what he could do, 'tis I. How he used to keep my toes in a circle as he left the grass behind his heels, piloting the ball past the opposing backs, I know to my loss, and a very great depreciation in tear and wear. He was a veritable "dodger," this owner of mine. Never afraid of a charge, he would, in order either to secure the ball or keep it, attack the biggest man in an opposing team, aye, and knock him over, too. Sometimes he lost his temper when things went against him, and, while his remarks to an adversary were somewhat cutting and at times verging on impertinence, they were always within the scope of "Parliamentary." In after life, however, my master found several foemen worthy of his steel amongst backs and half-backs in the Flying Blues, the Crowers, the Cedargrove, Red Cross, and North Western, and he sometimes came off second best.

It is all very well to say that there were "great men in those days." So there were, but the same remark can be made equally applicable now, for they are even more common, and you find them scattered over the length and breadth of the land. It would decidedly weary you, my friend and reader, were I to detail all the games in which I have taken an active part, and you will at once admit that I may succeed in pleasing you better if I give a short sketch of the leading clubs and players who have wrought so hard and done so much to make the Association game so popular. Jim Wild has been mentioned in connection with his club (the Conquerors), but it is necessary to give him a line or two more. There was no other Association club in Scotland when the Conquerors were put into ship-shape order, and consequently no opponents to play. They could not challenge themselves to mortal combat, and there were none but Rugby clubs, whose members treated the new order of things in football as childish amusement, and unworthy of free-born Britons. "Give us," they said, "the exciting runs, the glorious tackling, the manly maul, and the beautiful dropped goal, and we will meet you a bit of the way, but not otherwise. We don't believe in loafing about the field at times, when only one or two of the side are engaged; we want to be active." "Well," said the Conquerors (one of whom had been offered a place in the Twenty in the Rugby match between Glasgow and Edinburgh), "you don't know Association rules, or you would never make such absurd assertions about the new game. If there is really any inactivity in football while being played, that inaction is clearly shown in a Rugby maul, where the one half of the side are merely spectators. Besides, your game is only half football; in fact, a combination of football and handball knocked into one. Your run with the ball under the arm is only a display of speed; it has nothing whatever to do with football. We want the grand dribbling run with the ball at the toe, the smart passing and middling of the Association, and we will enjoy it." Such good-natured banter went on at first between two opposing interests, but by and by the difference culminated into something more.

As a sort of quid pro quo for the courtesy extended to an Association player by the Rugby contingent in the Inter-city match, Tom Chaloner, the very beau ideal of a Rugby player, was asked, and promised to play in the first International Association match at Partick in 1872. Tom even came out to the Recreation Ground at Crosshill, and practised with the Conquerors as goalkeeper, and promised well in that position, but through some cause or other he did not play when the eventful day came. If ever a man could handle a ball and kick a goal as a quarter-back in a Rugby game, it was Chaloner. He was the pride of all the Rugby clubs in the country side, and was as well, indeed, if not better known in his brilliant career as a cricketer. Who in Scotland could bat like Tom? He was not a hitter to a particular side of the wickets; all was alike to him. He could cut, drive, hit to long and square-leg, and oh! how far! He would have made a grand Association football player, but he preferred to stick to the Rugby style, and was equally successful, at least to his club's satisfaction. The first match between England and Scotland at Partick, nineteen years ago (which, by the way, is worthy of note, was played by members of the Queen's Park exclusively), did a great deal to spread Association rules in Glasgow and district, and, in fact, eventually all over Scotland. Hitherto there used to be a couple of months of interval between the end of the Rugby football season and the starting of athletics and cricket, lasting from March till May, and as the football players of the old dispensation were still in trim, but with exhausted fixtures, not a few of them, belonging to two of the leading clubs, did not consider it infra dig. to have a "go" at the new rules, "just to see how they could stand it."

The outcome of this hastily-formed notion was that a sort of Nomadic team, calling themselves the Western Pilgrims, was formed, and three or four matches, and good ones, too, were played between them and the Conquerors and also the Cedargrove. The Pilgrims showed themselves no mean opponents in the new game, and, after holding their own with the Cedargrove in a drawn game, had a good tussle with the Conquerors on the recreation ground at the Park, and were only beaten by a goal to none, the goal, I remember, being made in the last five minutes by Bob Gardens (who could dribble and play forward as well as keep goal). A few of the Pilgrims took kindly to the Association rules, and while that season lasted two of the leading forwards joined the Cedargrove, and turned out capital players. Another joined the Druids, and became a famous goalkeeper, even going as far as playing for his country in the International match, and the fourth turned out a leading man in the Holyrood Crescent. Talking about the above goalkeeper, Aleck M'Gregor was one of the finest fellows that ever stood with his back to a goal. There was the cheerful disposition, the gentlemanly demeanour to opponents or associates whenever he appeared on the field. His knowledge of the Rugby game made him a most useful man at goal, where the keeper of that charge is the only man under Association rules who is allowed to touch the ball with his hands. With the ordinary goalkeeper the punt-out kick, when dexterously executed, was considered the most effective mode of saving the ball from going under the tape, when the use of the hands to knock it out was not deemed necessary, but Aleck preferred the drop-kick, which is one of the redeeming features in the Rugby style of play, and this he could do almost to perfection. I have seen him (for I have, by-the-bye, taken part against him in several matches) lift a ball after it had come pretty smartly from my right toe, and dropping it on the ground before him, kick it as it rose, bounding away over the heads of the Conquerors' forwards as they besieged the goal like a hive of bees on a June morning. He had decidedly the advantage over the modern "punter," inasmuch that the leather was always sure to go higher out of reach when the place of defence was besieged, and farther out of the way of lurking backs and half-backs, who, as a matter of course, crowd down behind the forwards when an attack is made on an opponent's stronghold.

There were other instances which came to my knowledge (that is, if my reader can imagine anything so queer as a pair of boots possessing such an immensely human gift) of converts from Rugby to Association style of play, or rather perverts, as they were designated, but enough has been said to show how Association football gained a hold on the young and rising generation, and how it spread all over the western and north-western portion of the country, and, like the proverbial Eastern magician's wand, caused goal-posts and corner-flags to spring up in every village and hamlet with remarkable rapidity. Close to the shores of several Highland lochs, where a big kick by a stalwart half-back endangers the ball being swept away by the tide, one can see the game played of an evening by the village youth with great earnestness of purpose. By and by the new rules made remarkable progress, and as the public liked the game, and deserted the Rugby matches to see what they considered the most easily understood rules, the breach between the rival contingents widened, and eventually the Jews had no dealings with the Gentiles, and so they both continue playing the games they consider the best.

What changes have taken place in clubs and players during the last few years! Faces, blithe, happy faces, now gone forever, can be remembered by the old spectators, although the present scarcely ever heard their names; but I will not go very far back. Poor Dixy (for he is dead now) – well can I remember his first introduction to the Conquerors. My master had been indulging, in company with Bob Gardens, Jim Wild, Willie Keith, and others, in a punt about on the evening preceding a match with the Red Cross, and, after shaking hands and passing the usual compliments, the practice game was started, and in it the newcomer showed well, and kicked cleverly with both feet. He was, however, just a shade too slow, and I frequently tackled him, and secured the leather, giving it a deal of "toe" after passing close in on goal. The club were badly off for a goal-keeper after Willie Keith left for America, and, as John was not backward in making a display of his ability, he offered to act as goal-keeper. It would take too long to recount the games in which he and I were engaged in the subsequent career of the Conquerors, but an incident or two will not be considered out of place. If Dixy had one weakness more than another it consisted in a lively sense of his own importance as a crack goalkeeper, and the supposed invincible qualities of his club, which he often declared could not be beaten. He improved wonderfully in his new position, and, while playing some of the junior clubs, which were by this time beginning to spring up, it was positively amusing to see how John would advance quietly from his goal when it was besieged, and punt the ball contemptuously away with quite a crowd of young ones close up, awe-stricken at the agility shown by such a bulky form.

A few of the Red Cross and Cedargrove forwards sometimes gave him a fright, and in one match with the Leven Crowers he was fairly outwitted by Boyd and Ned M'Donald in a cup tie. I fought hard in that memorable battle myself, and never got such a saturation with water and mud in my career; but we were beaten. I will not easily forget Dixy as he came to the field on that occasion, carrying his umbrella to the goal-posts, and laying it against the left one. He, poor fellow, expected his club would have an easy victory, and this belief was shared in by not a few of the eleven besides, including my master, who had, by the way, emerged into a centre forward since the last match with the Kilmarackers, and as a consequence he gave me a deal of extra work as a backer-up to Mat. Angus. In fact, not long after I was carefully laced and ready for the fray that wet afternoon, the Conqueror's eleven had a confab about the tactics they should pursue, and Joe Sayler, our captain (who is now no more, and lost to his club for ever), remarked it would take them all their time to beat the Crowers. He had, I could see by his anxious looks, grave doubts on the issue. At the outset of the game the rain poured down in torrents, and as most of the play was on the Crowers' portion of the field, the umbrella was put up, amid the laughter of the partisans of John's contingent and the pent-up indignation of the followers of the Crowers, who mustered strong on the occasion, and demonstrated a strength of lungs truly astonishing. John, by and by, when the battle became hot, had to discard his old friend and comforter, and work in front of his fortress in a way that he had never done before, and when the terrible tussle ended, the Conquerors were beaten by two goals to one. When chaffed on the "umbrella incident" ever afterwards Dixy was silent, and declared that in using it he did not hold his opponents too cheaply, but simply with a desire to save himself from a ducking. John was also a capital oarsman, and when he was suddenly cut away in the pride of his manhood, he was barely 30 years of age. He was greatly lamented, and his handsome figure is missed from the football field.