Glasgow, the Yankees sailed on the following Monday morning for New
York, where they duly arrived without any mishap, after the fastest
passage on record, having covered the distance from Greenock to Sandy
Hook in twenty-three hours fifty-nine and three-quarter minutes."
Such is "NED DUNCAN'S DREAM; OR, THE GREAT INTERNATIONAL."
_VIII.--THE PATRONS, SPECTATORS, AND POPULAR PLAYERS._
They are to be found in all ranks and conditions of life, from the lord
of the manor down to the apprentice-artizan and newly-fledged young man
from shop and warehouse. Like love, football, for the time, at least,
levels all distinction; and albeit I know, for that of it, many a
well-matched pair, who have met for the first time on the grand stand at
Hampden Park, looking back with feelings of intense pleasure to the time
when their "infant love began." Were it not, in fact, that Caledonia is
at times so "stern and wild," and that football and frost can never
flourish together, the game would be far more extensively patronised by
the fair sex. At a cup tie or an International match, it is quite a
common thing to see the Convener of an adjacent county,[A] the city
magnate, the suburban magistrate, the Free Kirk minister, and the
handsome matronly lady, standing side by side with the horny-handed
mechanic, the office-boy, the overgrown schoolboy, and the Buchanan
Street "swell." They all watch the game and surroundings in their own
particular way. I once heard a quaint, but nevertheless true, idea of
how some of the more familiar visitors give way to a certain failing,
which in itself can scarcely be called such, but is not unfrequently
looked upon with amazement by the stranger. The Scotchman, it is said
somewhere, is not so much respected for the manner in which he goes
about a thing as the way in which he does it, and the remark, when
applied to this particular case, will be all the more potent. Here it
is:--"Where are you going to howl to-morrow (the query is put on
Friday), Jack?" "Oh! the Queen's and Vale, of course; they will have a
close thing of it, and there will be rare fun," says Jack. "Old Anderson
was very indignant last Saturday, and declares that he will never stand
near me again at any such matches. He was quite ashamed of my howling,
and positively charges me with digging my thumbs into his ribs, and
nearly strangling his youngest son at every scrimmage near each goal."
"It serves you right, Tom. I was always afraid something of that kind
would happen; you shouldn't be so demonstrative." Tom was silent. He was
as jealous of his own propriety and good behaviour as anybody could be,
but being of a most excitable nature, he did things in the heat of a
tussle for which he was afterwards very sorry, and many ignored the fact
that he was an old Rangers man, who scored the first goal for that then
young club in a close and exciting game with the once powerful
Clydesdale. As the Association rules are very easily learned in theory,
the great bulk of the spectators show an acquaintance with them which is
pleasing to see, and when an assumed infringement takes place, it is
generally heralded from some part of the field by a partisan of the
contending elevens. The only apparently unintelligible point to them is
the "off-side" rule, and I have seen a goal kicked in this way hailed
with deafening cheers and waving of hats and handkerchiefs. These
manifestations, however, were turned into low growling when the leather
was sent away by a free kick. The ladies, too, talk about "free kicks,"
"corner-kicks," "heading," "hands," "beautiful passing and dribbling,"
as if to the manner born. I cannot, however, dismiss the subject of
spectators without referring to the use and abuse of a free and
unrestrained vent to pent-up feelings. There is the low, vulgar fellow,
whose collarless neck and general coarseness of exterior and language
indicates that he possesses all the vices but none of the virtues of the
"honest working man." Work he will not, except he is compelled, and
although to "beg he is ashamed," he would be the first to do a mean
action if he had the opportunity. It is he who, by his foul tongue and
very breath, contaminates the atmosphere he breathes, and brings some of
the matches into disrepute. Unfortunately he has paid his money at the
gate (sometimes he gets over the fence), and you can't turn him out; but
he makes hundreds miserable. He is, in fact, one of the "unimproving and
irresponsible," and moral suasion has no power over his hard and stony
heart. Sometimes in an evil moment his vulgar remark is challenged by
one of the players on the contending sides, and this gives him an air of
importance. There is nothing, however, which shows a want of gentlemanly
bearing in a team more clearly than paying the least attention to
exclamations from excited spectators. They should treat them with silent
indifference, and if needs be, contempt, and play away as if there were
nobody present at all. It is sometimes, nevertheless, very hard for
country clubs to come to Glasgow and play for the city charities, and
get howled at by this class of spectators at certain stages of the game.
The great bulk of those around, however, are indignant at such conduct,
and regret it all the more on account of being utterly unable to prevent
it. There is another spectator, too, who not unfrequently forgets
himself, and he is to be found on what might be termed the "touch-line"
of society. He is the fast young man, who considers you a perfect
nonentity if you don't bet. I don't mean betting on football pure and
simple, for he only lays a few "bobs" on it, but on the latest
quotations for the Derby, the St. Leger, the Waterloo Cup, or the
University boat race. His "screw" is not very big at the best, but he
can always lay "half a sov." on the event, whether his landlady's bill
is paid or not, and touching that little account of Mr. Strides, the
tailor, why, he'll pay it when he "makes a pile." He thinks too much of
himself ever to get married, and the young ladies of his acquaintance
may indulge in a sigh of relief at escaping from the toils of such a
consummate fool. When he has something "on" a match, and sees that it is
lost, he not unfrequently opens out, and is not over choice in his
language. The game, however, goes on, and is greatly enjoyed by the
general spectator, despite such drawbacks, and if you happen to go to
the same locality on a similar occasion, you are all but sure to see old
and familiar faces crowding round the stand and area.
[A] The late lamented Mr. A. B. Stewart, Convener of the County
of Bute, was an enthusiastic admirer of the game, and many will
miss his handsome firm and kindly remark when future matches are
played on the leading grounds in Scotland.
The modern Association football player is a man of some ability. As a
rule he is temperate in his habits, with a good appetite, and sound in
limb. Long before he knew what football was, he was blessed with a large
share of health. When a boy at school he used to be remarkable for
punctuality, but occasionally got into trouble from neglected lessons,
in consequence of a weakness for indulging in out-door sports. He loved
the rude style of football, then played, dearly (he knew of nothing
better), although goal-posts, touch-lines, corner-flags, and other
modern appliances were totally unknown. As for "hacking," it was endured
by all and sundry with the air of martyrs. Why, if you had not nerve
enough to "give and take" in that line, your chance of getting near the
"goal score" was remote indeed, and you were looked upon as a coward and
the verriest noodle. He, of course, grows older, and by and by joins an
average club, and gets on very well. The crack football players,
however, have many maturities. They generally come slowly, but surely,
and leave behind them powerful impressions. They are like the occasional
planets, not the stars which are seen every evening if you care to look
towards the "milky way." They are mostly fine-looking fellows, with
pleasant countenances and grandly-moulded limbs. They have just passed a
severe course of probation in the football field, without even an
outward trace of anxiety. The vagaries of the game admit of no
distinction of class. The crack player is, in fine, found among all
classes--in the gentleman's son, in the clerk at the desk, and the lad
in the workshop. There may be different ways of working out the latent
ability, but sooner or later it begins to show itself. Some thought it
was scarcely fair in the Duke of Wellington to say that "Waterloo was
won at Eton." There is not the least possibility of doubt such a remark
might be misunderstood, and many feel inclined to charge the "Iron Duke"
with ignoring the services rendered by the non-commissioned officers and
men of the British army, for everybody knows that none but the sons of
the opulent class can ever gain admittance to Eton. It looked, in fact,
very like the credit being given to the officers for winning that great
battle. Wellington, however, had his eye on the football and cricket
grounds when he spoke these words, and no doubt intended to convey the
idea that these games went a long way in bracing up the nerve which
served so well on the battle-field. Close adhesion to the practice of
any game really and sincerely creates fresh possibilities of that
perfection and discipline. And why should this not be so in football,
particularly as it is a game regulated by sharply-defined maxims?
Everyone can't be the captain of an eleven; and as for Wellington's
remarks, the most humble member of the team may show the greatest
ability. You may belong to the most "swellish" of clubs, and have a fair
reputation, but you are not chosen to play in the International. Your
father may be the "Great Mogul" himself, but that has no effect. The
coveted place can only be attained by merit, and this is one of the most
successful and meritorious traits in Scotch Association Football. You
don't, as a rule, even get a place now by reputation, and so much the
better. When clubs were few and good players fewer, you were not
unfrequently favoured with one, whether you deserved it or not, but now
the matter is different, and justly so, since we cannot go into a single
town or village in Scotland without seeing the practice ground and
goal-posts of the now omnipresent football club.
_IX.--A DREAM OF THE PAST._
I am getting old and stiff now, at least in a football sense, but have
seen and played in, perhaps, more big matches in my time than many will
be inclined to give me credit for now. Somehow or other the modern
player does not seem to go into the game for the pleasure it affords
nearly so heartily as his representative of yore, but it may be that the
Compulsory Clause in the Education Act has made him more refined, or, if
you like it, a good deal more cunning in hiding his animal spirits and
exuberance of innocent fun. Be that as it may, the Association Football
of to-day does not really possess the same charm to me as it did ten
years ago.
I was once a very fair player, but never considered sufficiently
brilliant to get my name handed down to posterity as the crack half-back
of the "Invincible Club" of bygone days, or proclaimed aloud in the
secret recesses of the great "houf" where football players now retire to
spend a social hour after finding themselves the victors of a
hard-fought field. I must admit, however, that I did some clever things
which the newspapers of that era ought to have at least given me a
"puff" for, but they didn't; in fact, I never, like Byron (Lord Byron, I
mean), awoke one morning to find myself famous, because my football was
that of days long ago, in an obscure (to football, at least) country
town; and, besides, the game then was conducted in rather a rude and
undignified fashion. Talk about rules, we had those which might, for all
I know, have been framed by the "Chief Souter of Selkirk" himself to
suit the peculiar mode of playing on the streets at Shrovetide (a
practice still in vogue near that Border land). Our captain knew nothing
of such new-fangled devices as the Rugby code, and far less of the
Football Association. Ours, in brief, was a sort of combination of both
styles of play. To win a "hail," as it was termed, the opposing side,
with shoving, hacking, and other descriptions of horse-play, had only to
pass the ball over the line, and it was won. Touch-lines, corner-flags,
twenty-five flags, and even upright posts, and the usual concomitants of
the scientific game of to-day, were unknown. This leads me, then, to the
point of tracing the rise and progress of the game in Scotland during
the past dozen years, leaving its antiquity and origin, about which
there are mere surmises, an "open question." That it was played,
however, in Edinburgh and Glasgow at least twenty years ago, under rules
somewhat similar to those now adhered to by the followers of the Rugby
Union I can well remember, and this was the only kind of football known
by the young athletes of that time. Over a dozen years ago many were the
exciting contests engaged in by not a few of the clubs still in
existence.
The oval ball, with its historical associations, has a charm for them.
They then talked about the Association style of play with something akin
to contempt. "What," they might have been heard to say, "is the fun of
looking at people 'bobbing' a ball about with their heads, and the half
of a team doing nothing, while a couple or so of the players are engaged
at a time? Give us the closely-packed maul, the exciting individual run,
with the ball under the arm, the gallant struggle to ground it over the
opposing line, and, above all, the beautifully dropped goal." "But
nobody goes to see your matches now," remarks a newly-fledged convert to
the Association style of play, who has come to see the "Inter-City,"
"they got disgusted with your never-ending mauls and shoving matches,
preferring to witness scientific manipulation of the ball in dribbling,
and passing with the feet." "Pshaw! do you imagine we care a straw for
gate-money? We play the game for the love of it, and the genuine
exercise it affords," retorts the old Rugby adherent, "and respect it
all the more on that account." "Oh! it is all very well to tell one
that, but don't your leading clubs still charge for admission to their
matches?" "Yes; but this is more in the way of keeping out the roughs
from the field than for gain." Such conversation I have overheard
myself, and none of the sides made much by it.
Well can I remember the birth of Association Football in Scotland, and
look back to the time when there was not as many clubs as I could count
on the fingers of one hand. In 1870, a semi-International contest, under
Association rules, was played in London between Scotch men living in
England and an English Eleven, and continued till 1872, when, on
November 30th, the first real International match between England and
Scotland took place in Glasgow. In that same year, early in the season,
the celebrated Queen's Park Club (to whom Scotland owes the introduction
of the game), entered the lists for the English Challenge Cup, and were
drawn against the London Wanderers. It was at that point that the
matches which had hitherto been played in London between London
Scotchmen and Englishmen were given up in favour of an annual match
between Scotland and England, to be played alternately in London and
Glasgow, and, if possible, so to arrange the contest that the
Association match might be played in England the same season that the
Rugby match would be played in Scotland, and _vice versa_. It might be
as well here to say that the celebrated Scotch club and the Wanderers,
then in the zenith of their fame, played a drawn game with no goals on
either side, but finding it too difficult a job to meet the Englishmen
again, they scratched. Since then, however, the Rugby and Association
Internationals take place regularly as each season comes round, in
Scotland and England alternately. It is a curious fact, and one worthy
of record, that the Scottish Rugby Football Union and the Scottish
Football Association were both constituted in the same year--viz., 1873.
The Union was formed after the International Rugby match at Glasgow, Dr.
J. Chiene, of Edinburgh, being in the chair on the occasion. The
Scottish Football Association was formed under the presidency of Mr.
Robert Gardner, the once famous goalkeeper.
The annual competition for the Association Cup, when the clubs who
entered for it the first year only numbered 16, were proceeded with in a
much more gentlemanly way than is the case now, but the reason is
obvious. Hitherto young and inexperienced clubs never dreamt of entering
against opponents with whom they knew they had no chance, and,
consequently, the competitions were left to be fought out among the
cream of exponents of the dribbling game. As each year came round,
however, and young clubs began to multiply exceedingly, many of them
considered they should have a shy at the "Cup," and as the entry-money
for membership to the Association was only a nominal sum, they competed,
and were never heard of after the first tie. No one who has watched the
progress of Association Football in Scotland can for a moment deny the
fact that the Challenge Cup has been the chief factor in assuring its
popularity and rapid development all over the Western District of
Scotland, and when its original promoters inaugurated the competition,
it was done with the honest conviction of spreading a knowledge of the
Association rules, together with generating a spirit of friendly rivalry
amongst clubs.
That it has been eminently successful in the former respect is admitted,
but I can't say the same thing so far as "friendly rivalry" is
concerned, and one has only to remember the manner in which some of the
ties are conducted to point out that the term "questionable conduct"
would be more appropriate. When I hear of men and lads deliberately
kicking one another, and charging wildly when the ball is about ten
yards away in front, I begin to consider that the time has positively
arrived when the Scottish Football Association, if it wishes to retain
its hold, should interfere, and make a selection of clubs to compete for
the "blue ribbon" of Association glory. Quadruple the subscriptions to
the Association if necessary, and, above all, revise the bye-laws in
such a way that what is known as a "rough game" would be impossible. It
is but fair, however, to the Scottish Football Association to state that
they have long been alive to the fact, and have since taken the matter
up while deciding protests.
The Association Rules, however, are immensely popular with the people,
and in some of the big matches it is quite a common thing to see 10,000
or 15,000 spectators. I have heard of such people as those who actually
hate cricket and football, and make it a constant aim to prevent those
over whom they have some influence from engaging in the manly sport.
They occasionally flit across one's path like an evil spirit, and
disappear as rapidly, but leave behind a chilling effect on the
imagination, far more intense than the terrible nightmare after a
disastrous defeat. They cannot see the fun of spending valuable time in
such a way. If you follow one of those gentle "cads," however, at the
close of an evening, he may be seen, cue in hand, earnestly engaged at
the billiard table. He is not in a happy mood, for he is one of the
losing side, and there is a wild look about his eyes. He sometimes gets
home rather early in the morning, and is not particularly careful of his
choice of companions at times. They are childish amusements, these games
at cricket and football, "and none but silly people," he continues,
"would ever think of engaging in, or even encouraging, them any way."
And another thing. There is a sort of prejudice to football, and, in
fact, to a lot of healthful out-door exercises, in Scotland, among the
older people, who can scarcely endure the thought of spending time under
any circumstances; and parents are often the cause of degenerating a
kind of deception more common than one would believe--viz., playing
under assumed names. Surely it is much better for the young men to spend
a spare afternoon on the football field, enjoying the fresh air, than
being, perhaps, engaged in questionable "time-smashing," in the way of
playing cards, draughts, or drinking. On asking a well-known dribbler
the other day how it came about that he played under a _nomme de
guerre_, "Was he afraid to let his real name be known?" The answer was
conclusive. The governor was sometimes inexorable, and treated him to a
lecture on filial obedience and the inevitable consequences of
neglecting business. He positively debarred him from playing again, but
Tom was not to be done. Taking advantage of the old fellow's absence
from home, he yielded to the solicitations of his captain, and played
under an assumed name, dribbling and passing in such beautiful form that
thousands of spectators applauded his efforts, and his side won in a
canter. As the non-indulgent parent did not observe Tom's name in the
papers, his little deception was never found out, and he continued doing
duty for his club in this way for a couple of seasons. And of the yet
fine player who thinks he will retire as each season comes round,
something must also be said. His eye has not yet lost the gleam of
honest rivalry, and he snorts like the war-horse as each season comes
round to be in the thick of the fight. He retired, it may be, last
season, for good, as he thought, but the fascinations of the goal-posts
and flying corner-flags was too much for him as a spectator at the first
big game, and he yielded for another year, but it will be his last, for
Maud, his beloved and beautiful Maud, will claim him as her own before
June. "We have been long engaged," he is heard to say to an old club
companion, "but this blessed football, of which I am very fond, has been
the cause of putting off the marriage."
I once knew a fine young fellow, a crack half-back, who was so anxious
to play in an "International," that he positively swore he would never
get married till he was one of the chosen team. He kept his word. He
played twice for his country, got married, and, as the "unexpected does
not always happen," is now the father of what may some day prove a race
of stalwart football players. His handsome, though now slightly-bent
form, is still often seen when a great event is being decided,
accompanied by his wife and children, and woe betide the captain of his
former club if he allows it to be beaten. "Well played; keep him off the
ball, can't you!" he is heard to exclaim, till he is red in the face,
and he goes home to dinner with something like an appetite.
None but those who have positively come through all the grades of
football probation really know what amount of labour, to say nothing of
self-denial, is needed to make a crack back, half-back, or skilful
forward. Sometimes one has to be contented with a place in the Second
Eleven for years, before some incident, it may be, brings him to the
front, and reveals true merit. In football, of course, as in other
things, I have found that the best men were not always in their best
places, and when this was the case, what is known as favouritism came in
bold relief, but in the end the club in which such stupidity was rampant
suffered very severely. It did all very well when the club were engaged
in ordinary contests with weaker opponents, but it came out in some of
the big events, in which the guilty club predominated in the selection
of men to represent a city, a university, and even a country.
Fortunately, however, I can honestly say that during the last few years
there has been little of this practised, and Scotch football under both
rules is all the better in consequence.