Scottish Football Reminiscences and Sketches. David Drummond Bone
a serious air the captain lectured Bob till he was blue in the face, and told him if he did not put himself in condition for the great battle of the morrow he would be stoned by the town enthusiasts. He remembered when a boy at school scribbling as best he could on his copybook, "Discretion is the better part of valour," and the sentence flashed across his heated brain with all the force of actual conviction. "What was he to do?" "Was it to be football first, and Mary afterwards?" Something whispered "yes; Mary could afford to wait, but the 'Cup' was a transitory article, and the splendid chance his club had of winning it might pass away like a dream." "Why, there was Joe Laidlay, he was in something like the same dilemma so far as his 'lass' was concerned, and if Joe, he thought, could afford to put off his sweetheart, Maggie Jackson, in the same way, he (Bob) considered that he should be able to conclude the arrangement, and make the best excuse to Mary."
Quietly speaking, Bob had an ambition in his football, and it consisted in being a member of the eleven who would at one time or another "lick" the Queen's Park, and went into the practice game with his whole heart, and played all through in good form.
Just a year or so before this the "Vale" would have given the same Dumbarton lot short shift and no favour on any of the grounds, but matters were altered. They wanted a lot of their old blood, which had in years gone bye carried them through many a doubtful battle. They had lost their grand goalkeeper, and the crack half-back had vacated his favourite position to keep the ball from going between the uprights in "time o' need."
Some of the daring forwards had also bade farewell to the game, and were scattered over the length and breadth of the land. The match, however, had to be played—it would brook no delay—and the spirited captain resolved to make the best of it, although a score of misgivings passed through his mind as to the issue. There was one thing in favour of the "Vale," they had their own ground to play upon, and that was reckoned as worth a goal any day.
Before the start Johnny Freer told his old chums to keep their "weather eyes" open for sudden rushes by the Dumbarton forward division, and before the game was very old, they discovered that the advice did not come a moment too soon. Keeping close on the touch lines till well down among the half-backs, Maclure and his light companion, "the Bird," assuredly did not allow the grass to grow under their leather bars. The ground was a little sloppy from the recent rain, but, strange to say, the Dumbarton men seemed to keep their feet in a remarkable manner. M'Luckie and big Walton tried their very best to intercept the dribblers, but at times they were completely mastered, and Dick Wallace had to come away from his place at back and assist.
The most of the Dumbarton lads were much faster on the ball than the "Vale," and this, added to a slice of luck, aided them in scoring twice, and they consequently won a hard battle by two goals to none, and earned the proud distinction of being the champions.
After the great crowd had dispersed, and lots of silver had changed hands, a solemn silence reigned in that part of the pavilion utilised by the "Vale." "There is no use denying the fact, chaps," said the captain of the defeated team, "these fellows have beaten us on our form this season, and we'll have to make the best of a bad bargain."
Not so, however, in the other end of the house. The victors were "blowing" a good deal of the bad luck they had had, and how they ought to have scored a dozen goals if "Sandy had not repeatedly allowed the ball to graze the goal-posts, instead of attempting to kick it out. They had, however, beaten the 'Vale,' and that was all they cared for, in the said tie. The Rangers they declared they did not fear, and from all they could hear, they were now quite able to meet the Queen's Park face to face."
With the Rangers, however, they had just sufficient to do on their own ground in the first match, but in the second came off victorious by five goals to one.
One Saturday evening we took forcible possession of Jack Cook's lodgings, which were situated near the Marie Stuart Hall, Crosshill. Jack was very fond of billiards, and sometimes pocketed several "pools" of an evening, when a few choice spirits congregated in "The Rooms." Jack's landlady had frequently threatened him with pains and penalties for treating anything approaching "elders' hours" with contempt, and once intensified it to instant dismissal, bag and baggage, for encouraging a lot of his chums in leading the chorus of Dickens' Bacchanalian song:
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