David Bone - Scottish Football Reminiscences and Sketches

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:

at four o'clock A.M., under her kitchen window after a big cup tie, which the Conquerors had won. Jack, as a matter of precaution warned us that we were to comport ourselves with decency, and not rouse the aforesaid lady. Our friend had something in the bottle. We were comfortably seated, and the room filled with tobacco smoke, when a dim shadow was noticed at the door, and turned out to be Willie Fairfield, of the Flying Blues, who had just called to let us know he had received a telegram from Edinburgh announcing the defeat of the Hibernian in the protested match with Dumbarton, by six goals to two.

Willie, it may be mentioned, had drawn the Hibernian in our "sweep," and was, I may inform all concerned, well pleased with his luck when the ticket came out the bag; but now much crestfallen. Bill Weldon, however, who had secured Dumbarton in the same drawing, jumped off his chair at the success of the club he had secured, and remarked – "Look here, boys, Dumbarton are just about good enough to win the Association Cup, and I'll take evens on't." "Done," said a chorus of voices, and Mrs. Blank's parlour was for a few minutes transformed into a betting house on a small scale.

We had a long chat as to the respective merits of the Rangers and Dumbarton, who were to play their tie over again, in consequence of some informality, and after draining Jack's bottle, were accompanied to the door with solemn injunctions not to kick up a row on the stairs.

Weeks passed after this little incident, and the clubs left in our "sweep" were getting small by degrees and beautifully less. The Rangers, Partick, South-Western, Northern, 3rd L.R.V., Arthurlie, Kilmarnock Portland, Alexandra Athletic, Thornliebank, Heart of Midlothian, and even the plucky little Clyde were cleared off the list, and the Queen's Park had their own ado with Kilmarnock Athletic, and only beat that sturdy Ayrshire Club by three goals to two. All that now remained in the tie, in fact, were Q.P. and Dumbarton.

It was Weldon and Pate Brown for it now, and both began to dream of a good pocketful of "sovs."

Pate, who was engaged to charming little Lizzie Green, had been living very carefully for a time in prospect of shortly calling Lizzie his own, was only now a casual visitor to Cook's lodgings. One evening, on his way home from Ball & Field's, Pate began to reckon up his chances of winning the "sweep."

"One hundred and five subscribers at a 'sov.' a-piece," said he, "why that makes £105. The odd 'fiver' will pay all the expenses, and if the Q.P. win the Cup, why all that will be mine. Oh! glorious Q.P., invincible Q.P., you must and shall win the Cup," raved excited Pate. "Lizzie, my own dear lassie, I have not told you about my speculation, nor will I till the tie is over, and we'll get married this summer yet."

I do not intend to weary my readers with a detailed account of the final Cup ties, for everybody knows there were two played. In the first, when the clubs tied, and Dumbarton had the best of the game, little Pate Brown nearly lost his senses with excitement, and had frequently to lean heavily on the shoulder of Lizzie Green to prevent him from falling under the grand stand.

"What is it, dear, that makes you so terribly pale at a match?" she said to him in a gentle whisper. "You must be ill, for I have never observed you so excited before." Little did the young lady imagine what was at issue, and the cause of Pate's nervousness; but she knew afterwards, and had a jolly laugh over it in her own tidy little house at Govanhill.

Who does not remember the real final tie on Cathkin Park? Such a match will, perhaps, never be seen in Scotland again. How both Queen's Park and Dumbarton played with all the force and dash they could command, and how at length the Queen's Park were the conquerors, and Pate Brown won the double prize.

A few nights afterwards Pate received one hundred sovs. (there were no second and third prizes) in the "Marie Stuart," and when he told the young fellows assembled that he was about to get wed to Lizzie Green, every soul of them (not even excepting Bill Weldon himself, who had drawn Dumbarton in the speculation, and lost a few "sovs." on them too), congratulated him on his choice, and called Pate a "lucky dog."