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HIBERNIAN FOOTBALL CLUB
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A page devoted to Hibernian Football Club of Edinburgh,
Scotland. I've a great affinity to the Hibernian club, historically through
family ties over the generations.
During the past few years whilst visiting various Hibs
websites, I have written several articles for those sites and latterly for
the fanzine 'Mass Hibsteria'. Please feel welcome to browse some these articles
old and new pieces will be added to this page at regular intervals.
Happily, the "grand oul" club is going through something of a
renaissance as I write. Hibernian under the excellent current management team
of Tony Mowbray and Mark Venus are a fabulous and vital team to watch - as
exciting as any club in the country with their expansive, "fast flowing
football to feet, played at pace". If this were not enough to make those
of us with green Hibernian blood flowing through our veins excited enough, the
team possesses a majority of young home-reared, Scottish youngsters - many of
whom undoubtedly have huge careers ahead of them.
Come with me and "Feel the passion - Live the Dream"!
Glory, Glory To The Hibees
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THE W-I-D-E BOYS
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Scotland
has had a prodigious history in producing a long line of wingers. Indeed our
very own Hibernian gave to the world the man who was termed the ‘Prince of
Wingers’ in the great Gordon Smith, possibly unsurpassed in ability, certainly
by the accounts of those who were fortunate enough to have seen him don the
green and white jersey.
What is it about these men that sets them apart in
temperament and style from players in other positions? It’s always been a
source of curiosity to me. Some people talk about eccentric goalies, and in
fairness there have been plenty of those between the sticks, a role perhaps
akin to being the drummer in a band? I however am fascinated by these wizards
of the dribble, these men who leave the field of play with a liberal amount of
chalk dust on their boots after hugging the touchline all game. These wide
boys.
Some time ago this subject became focused in my mind after
having a conversation with a former colleague who had spent some time reporting
for the Lincolnshire Echo newspaper. His assertion was of, ‘you know – he was
one of those useless ******* wingers’, (he used reasonably earthy language)
when referring to an erstwhile Scottish tanner ba’ player who had the
misfortune to find his career washed up in the arid football atmosphere of the
east of England
cathedral city for many unfruitful seasons.
After dusting down my Celtic pride I realised his point. For
every great winger there are a number of great pretenders and just general
numpties. Flattering to deceive is the first skill that any decent outside
right or left should learn rather than how to put a half-decent cross over.
The modern wing-back appears to have largely taken over the
traditional winger’s role but these players are not the genuine article. For
one thing they run back and help their team mates and no self-respecting winger
would ever consider such recklessness. They are there to attack, that appears
the simple logic behind the thinking of the wide man.
There are many types to the genre, the most instantly
recogisable classifications being the ‘Wee Jinky’ type and the ‘Flyer’. Think
Jimmy Johnstone for the former, (naturally) and Arthur Duncan for the latter
for stereotypes of these performers.
Whilst wee Jimmy was arguably as good as it gets in this
role as five foot nothing of pure trickery and bamboozlement, lesser imitations
of the man are more easily swept under the carpet. Whilst Jimmy could easily
beat four men on a mazy run, (watch out for that expression) lesser wingers
must necessarily learn the skill of beating the same man four times. All well
and good if he can finally be unloaded of the ball by the patient defender too
after exhaustion sets in, (wingers only truly run about a bit when they have
the ball). Whilst this is the most likely outcome for the Wee Jinky, there are
usually other options open to the Flyer.
Those of us who can say we saw Ned Turnbull’s Tornadoes will
always have a special place in our h***ts for Arthur Duncan. This paragon of
the flying winger fraternity entertained us all for many winters with his dashing
wing play (keep an eye on that term too). A great and loved, long servant to
Hibernian, Arthur could on occasion frustrate even his most loyal fans. Who can
forget that sprinter’s pace down the touchline, possibly only equalled by Erich
Schaedler backing up behind him in the left back berth? It’s at this point that
we need to think of outcomes again. Whilst the Jinky will often meekly
surrender the ball to a bemused full back after drilling himself into the turf with
just that one turn too many, the Flyer might more likely be seen running the
ball straight over the by-line and into the crowd. If he knows his job properly
he will also be seen following the ball into said crowd too at this point. It’s
times like these that strong relationships are bonded between the Flyer and his
long-suffering followers.
The second option open to this type of winger is a humdinger
too. An experienced Flyer must understand the art of a decent anti-climax too.
Picture the scene because we have all been there. The midfielder or full back
releases the flying wingman from a deep position; the winger sets off like the
proverbial bat out of hell down the line showing fine close control (i.e. not
letting the ball run any more than twenty-five yards in front of him) and
finally makes it to his spiritual home at the bye-line, ball intact. This is
the point where matters from looking promising take on a new form as the
trigger is drawn for that pinpoint cross into the middle. Over the ball goes…and
pitches adjacent the opposite corner flag before bouncing haplessly out for a
throw in on the opposite wing despite a despairing slide from the opposite wide
man. Even worse than this is the cross that finds its way behind the net as
angry looking team mates glower over from the penalty area. The skilled Flyer
will at this juncture use all his experience and glare disbelievingly at an
imaginary divot at his feet before running back, shaking his head.
I could perhaps be accused of being a little facetious here
but in truth I have always, like many others enjoyed watching wingers play.
They bring expansiveness to the game that is sadly often lacking in modern
football. Wherever there is a decent winger in some kind of goodish nick there
is always bound to be entertainment to follow.
It’s true to say that many of the greatest exponents in this
position have been Scottish and it’s on some of those characters I’ll
concentrate here. I’ve already mentioned my admiration for Jimmy Johnstone, but
there have been so many. In a similar vein Willie Henderson was charged with attempting
to equal Jimmy’s exploits over the other side of Glasgow,
a similar kind of player, Willie did that well enough to earn Scotland
jerseys. His team mate on the opposite wing Willie ‘Bud’ Johnstone actually
combined the characteristics of both the Flyer and the Jinky. An interesting
anecdote I heard about Bud was that during Rangers’ infamous training sessions
running up and down the dreaded sand dunes of Gullane, Willie would actually
perform these runs in pit boots. No wonder he was flying come Saturday
afternoon…
Willie was one of the few people I have ever seen sit on the
ball during a game – surely the ultimate embarrassment to the opposition? He
was playing out of his skin for West Bromwich Albion by this time (and into
selection ready for his most notorious hour in Argentina but that’s another story
entirely.) Against the not-so-mighty Notts County this particular afternoon,
Willie was having an absolute field day and looked to be thoroughly enjoying
himself against the bothered and bewildered County defence. Finally he showed
his mastery (and boredom) by perching his back side on the ball down by the
left corner flag as the perspiring Notts rearguard looked at each other
nervously to decide who would try and take the ball away from him. Some in the
home crowd scalded Willie as you might imagine, not me, he was doing his job of
entertaining the paying customers - and doing it sublimely.
Uddingston native, John Robertson (the Forest and Scotland player not the Newcastle reject) was another I never tired
of watching. Robbo’s innate football ability only really saw light of day when
Brian Clough moved him from midfield and barred him from the chippy. This
coincided shortly afterwards with a rich vein of form for several seasons
operating as a conventional outside left which took John to European silverware
and Scotland caps. In a way there was no mystery about John’s wing play,
whichever way the full back went he went the other, simple eh? Pin point
crosses and in addition the most cool and deadly penalty taker in the business
were other weapons in his armoury. Clough’s TV assertion referring to the Scotland party heading for Argentina ’78,
that Robbo ‘has so much skill he should fly the plane’ sticks in the memory.
Former long time Leeds
outside left Eddie Gray was another favourite. In a team full of hard men,
(even the forwards) Gray stood out as one player who’s game was purely based on
skill rather than cynicism. Gray was often unfairly compared to George Best
over the Pennines which seemed a little unfair
to me. He was the scorer of my favourite goal of all time (barring Hibs of
course!) On that occasion Eddie seemed to beat practically the whole Burnley team in a solo effort of breathtaking artistry
with the ball. Gray danced his way along the left touchline before working his
way in towards the opposition net leaving defenders floundering this way and
that in his trail before slotting home. A goal of absolutely staggering skill.
I could hardly end these words without mentioning some of
our own Hibernian touchline favourites. My apologies if I’ve left yours out. Mickey
Weir on his day could be almost unstoppable; also a great fan favourite to this
day and an unforgettable sight in those new-style baggy shorts he was asked to
wear alongside his team mates of the day. I very much liked the tandem of Kevin
‘Crunchie’ McAllister and Michael O’ Neill that Alex Miller introduced to Hibs.
Hibs were a joy to watch at last with these two wingers operating in the same
side. They were also a good foil for each other in style. McAllister earned his
‘Crunchie’ tag as a youngster playing in a team with another boy called ‘Crunch’,
apparently, thus he became know as ‘Wee Crunchie’.
I’ll end on one of our greatest men, outside left of the
inimitable and legendary Famous Five, Willie Ormond. Perhaps all of the Five
were overshadowed at times by the glittering skills and matinee idol looks of
Gordon Smith on the right wing, but Musselburgh native, Willie should, like the
others be remembered in his own right as a wonderful talent. Like the rest of
the Five I only have others’ reminisces to form a judgement on, including those
of my own family. One need only listen for a few moments to an appreciation of
Willie by his two remaining line mates Lawrie Reilly and Eddie Turnbull to
understand what a talent he was. Any man who could impart the classis quote, ‘if
I’d had a right foot you’d have never heard of Pele’ had to cut a bit of a dash
didn’t he?
Glossary of winger terms
Flyer – the fabled ‘Flying winger’, an outside man of
breathtaking pace but not necessarily any other talent whatsoever. Often tall
with a raking stride. Most often seen running in straight line towards the
corner flag with a posse of defenders giving chase.
Wee Jinky – Usually small and very manoeuvrable, the jinky
will normally rely on trickery and ball play to outfox the opposition. Not
averse to taking on the same defender several times the jinky is primarily an
entertainer. There is often a problem with peripheral vision in these types –
they don’t have any.
Dasher – as in ‘he’s a bit of a dasher, (see ‘flyer’)
Mazy dribble – a long, weaving run that confuses winger and
defender alike.
Nijinsky, et al – the names of famous race horses can often
be used in the identifying of flyers. This is to be encouraged.
Dribbling – the prime weapon of the Jinky, often used as a
precursor to falling over.
Buccaneer – this is usually applied to a player most usually
considered to be too large and bulky to play the wide position. ‘The
buccaneering winger’. Robust play is the key term here in the
buccaneering winger who will burst forth at any opportunity, splaying great
sheaths of defenders from his path with a large barrel chest.
Moving back – all good things come to an end. The last
bastion of the winger just before the boots stay on the peg forever. Not always
100% successful as any good winger worth his salt will have spent the last
fifteen years of his career without making a single worthwhile tackle.
(From Mass Hibsteria, issue 111, January 2005)
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FOOTBALL AND MEDIA TECHNOLOGY
Football appears to have an
uneasy relationship with technology at times, it has never fully embraced the
possibilities of it on the field of play when compared to say, the big four
American sports of American football, baseball, ice hockey and basketball. Most
recently this has been manifested during the recent Manchester United v
Tottenham game when a shot which by most reasonable accounts was way over the
goal line and into the net before referee Carroll cancelled the marker.
One area of technology that our
game has not been to slow to utilise however is that of the media, in
particular the Internet. It would be interesting to know just how many fans of
our own club Hibernian have no access to the online news and views of the
players, officials and fans of the club at all. For me personally, and for most
fellow Hibbies I am of the acquaintance of, the days of not being able to
communicate by this method seem in the far and distant past.
Obviously not living in or around
The Lothian’s, the amount of contact and closeness that distant fans like
myself are able to feel to the club and to other fans is not comparable to
years ago in the days when my personal Hibernian lifeline was the Sunday Post –
delivered to my folk’s house on a Monday lunchtime here in Nottingham. At that
time a fuzzy monochrome picture of a Stanton or Cropley was about as good as it
got, accompanied by a few well-worn clichés from the likes of Doug Ballie.
How different things are now.
Daily news, chatter and rumour provided by websites such as Mass Hibsteria and
the other sites have succeeded in filling a huge void, not just for us
‘distants’, of which there are many all around the world, but for local
supporters too.
Customs are changing around our
old game whether we enjoy that or not. Many decry the passing of standing
terraces, and some of the more roughly-hewn facets of the game, on and off the
field. These are issues for another day. It’s interesting however to compare
how football friendships and communities are forming these days.
I’m sure that I speak for many
when I relate how I got into football as a youngster by the traditional method
of being taken by my father and other family members. As the years go on though
many of us find ourselves visiting Easter Road or wherever our chosen ground
is, with friends and contemporaries, perhaps from school, college, University
whatever. Perhaps we are members of supporters clubs. Often these relationships
through football are very long-lived and certainly habitual. Perhaps a sizeable
few drop by the wayside as marriage, children and work pressures come along,
only to return at a more convenient window in people’s lives.
Socially speaking
Over the past few short years I
have observed football fans and friends meeting and getting together in new
ways by means of Internet messageboards and the like, indeed this has been my
happy experience on returning home to Edinburgh
to see the Hibs on many occasions I’m very happy to state. A group of Hibbies
these days drinking in a pub on Easter Road before a derby game might have
members from England,
Australia, Canada
or Germany.
Just as our children might have a best friend in Singapore
by way of the Internet. Things are changing.
One age-old custom that many of
us away from the home of our club miss is that of a pint and a chat about our
team pre-game and of course, the post-game review of where it al went
right/wrong that afternoon. Nothing can truly replace the kindred feeling of
being amongst ‘your own’; however conversing on the net as a substitute does
shrink the miles, of that there is no doubt.
Printed versus online matter in
football
Recently I noted a debate as to
the relative pros and cons of the above forms of communication within the game.
This debate could easily be widening out to the reading of website material as
against books and magazines generally, for example some will always prefer a
good tome, a glossy magazine or a decent broadsheet to peruse over at leisure
on a lazy Sunday morning. It’s indisputable for me that this will be the case
for a long time to come yet. Anyone actually tried reading an e-book yet?
To come to the point, the
conversation was comparing match day programs against gleaning information and
entertainment from football websites. Obviously both have their strengths and
weaknesses. Not being a collector myself, it’s rare that I will buy an official
program from any event, including a football match, though conversely I have
always been an avid reader of fanzines and their more irreverent view! I see
official programs as somewhat sanitised, out of date in many circumstances and
certainly overpriced.
Collectible?
For me too, for something to be
collectible it has to be very worthy in the first place. If I may, I’ll use the
analogy of the classic car market. A Ford Anglia may be rare and unusual, in
2005 but it was never an E-type Jaguar, nor was it intended to be. I’m sure the
Ford Motor Company would have been astounded all those years ago if they
imagined that anyone would revere and keep the ‘Anglebox’ today! No, it was
intended to use and throw away afterwards.
Compare the match program to the
modern rush of technological opportunities though. These days, not only can up
to the minute news be viewed on the Internet, it can also be downloaded onto a
personal pc and carried around. Scoreflashes and news can be collected by WAP
Internet on mobiles. Bluetooth and other technologies will take us way beyond
what we have now.
The technology is, as we know,
also roughly in place to show live Internet coverage of games through our PC’s
– both radio and pictures. Things will never be the same again nor should they
be as technology relentlessly moves on. Occasionally this same technology is
industry-led and there is a public resistance but generally the public have a
thirst for it I feel. It might be that
the tradition of the match day program could well in time end in the same place
as the football rattle and rosette did - a long forgotten memory. In some ways
we will all be sad about that perhaps as it will be another part of football’s
heritage gone forever. It just wouldn’t be the same keeping your digital images
in the loft would it?
(Printed in Mass Hibsteria, issue 111, January 2005)
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CRISIS - WHAT CRISIS?
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This word seems to be the
buzzword currently amongst the Hibs support - online at least. I can't
pretend I'm not a little concerned and disappointed about current form but
surely some of the comment around is a little hysterical? It's hard to
imagine that some of those complainers have supported Hibs for very long if
they view this state of affairs as a crisis.
It's been a fabulous
season so far and the young team and management have performed wonders on a
shoestring. People have reportedly been very entertained and there is a good
feeling about supporting this club again after some pretty dire times in the
past couple of years or so. I don't need to point out that we have a real
shout at another Scottish Cup Final and a crack at third place and European
football next season. <>It's a contextual thing perhaps. Hibs had some
poor results that have come together at the same time rather than being
spread out. I do believe that most Hibbies accept this but some just can't
rid themselves of the bitter taste of a defeat or two and move on. I think
they’d better get used to the concept as that trait is definitely required
when settling down to a lifetime of supporting our dear old club.
The Tony Mowbray factor
What is my basis for confidence
you may ask? Let me first talk to you about the current incumbent of the
managerial hot seat at Easter Road, Tony Mowbray. Many thousands of words
have been spoken and typed about this man since his entrance down the Heavenly
Boulevard for the first time – quite rightly so
perhaps. I think many of us were aware very rapidly that Tony Mowbray has
unusually good communication and motivational skills from listening to his
initial thoughts upon his announcement. From low expectations after a
relatively low-key appointment the support quickly came to see his worth.
Those aforementioned skills are but two in the armoury of this remarkable
man.
There has appeared something of
a hero-worship relationship with Tony Mowbray and his assistant Mark Venus
over the past few months. Obviously that’s driven by the success the club are
having. Whilst being a huge fan of the job that Tony and Mark are doing at
the club I have to ask is that sentiment a healthy one? By the very nature of
the job, being the manger of Hibernian FC is a risky business – a quixotic
affair. Currently I’ve a tendency to view those that have offered the loudest
plaudits and adulation towards Tony Mowbray might well be the same
individuals that are shaken the most now that he and Hibernian face a tough
challenge to right the ship. Whilst always reserving the right of people to
say their piece I can’t say that I’m not a little disappointed in the
defeatist attitude of some.
‘Being Hibs’
I’m not clear as to whether
anybody views this subject the same way as I do but supporting this club is a
unique affair, though to be objective I know that the supporters of most
football clubs believe the same also. There is something about the history of
this institution called Hibernian FC that draws on a narrative of stoicism
and fighting against greater odds. Hibernian always had to achieve things the
difficult way due to various factors and I believe it bred certainly
qualities in the men and women that followed and nurtured the ‘Green
Jerseys’. If this club still retains a culture then I do feel that the former
is the embodiment of that along with the charitable work that we can still
proudly look back on. How many are true to those values in modern day? It’s a
question I’ve asked myself. I’m not convinced I believe in the ‘Hibee family’
and ‘good Hibby’ notion but there is/was an underlying culture surrounding
this fine old club. I’d dearly love to see more evidence of it currently
though.
We have the Psychology – we can rebuild it
To return to the qualities of
the Hibernian manager and the reason for my confidence I must relate the
quality that I have been most impressed with in viewing ‘Tony’ over the past
few months. Some decry the requirement of a psychological outlook in the game
– I’m not one of them. Football is a different game these days, every factor
needs to be considered in gaining the edge on an opponent whether that be
physically or mentally. We have all witnessed a player display the body
language of defeatism and here’s the rub for me. I feel that the intelligence
awareness and shrewdness in handling other human beings is the greatest asset
that Mr. Mowbray has. I might point to GOC as an illustration of that.
Mowbray demonstrated that he believed in Gary
from the beginning. One might point to the ability the manager had in
spotting that our excellent striker was playing in an unsuitable role
formerly but for me that is but part of the story. Tony is’ ‘looking into the
eyes’ of these young men and urging them on to better things than would have
been thought previously possible. why I am confident about this ‘younger
team’.
Now that the Hibs are on the ropes we shall see our man’s
true colours. These are young players in the main and might stand to leap
into freefall under the tutorship of a lesser manager – I however believe
that Tony Mowbray will understand the doubts that are in his young charges
and will work on allaying those fears. That’s one of the many reasons I came
to love the Hibees all those years ago.
Cast ye doubts
To conclude, may I just add on
a personal note how I wished I could be at Easter Road more often this
season. To see my team reverting back to a swashbuckling and entertaining
style is all I really ever asked for. I don’t demand trophies though
obviously that would be nice! I do however make the modest request that my
team will pass the football around a little, that’s one of the many reasons I
came to love the Hibees all those years back.
I dearly wish that I could swap
place with one or two of the dissenters and those odd individuals that shout
abuse at the boys on a Saturday afternoon at every opportunity. They do say
you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone...
To those people I’ll use a
favoured phrase of mine...KEEP THE FAITH.
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(From Mass Hibsteria, Monday, 14 March 2005)
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Hibernian and its charitable roots
My hand is held high; yes I am a traditionalist, in many
matters, but particularly in our beautiful old club.
I think it desirable to look to the future, with one eye on
the past. Lessons once learnt should be held close and cherished.
The ‘old boys’ should never be forgotten, they gave us this
legacy, this football club, one that some us fondly believe is like no other.
One of the reasons that Hibernian is so unique in its ethos
is largely because of the original good work carried out by its founding
fathers, the kindly Canon and the men who stood by him as he carried out his
work to help the underprivileged – those in dire need of charitable help.
Thoughts at this time of year inevitably go towards those
less fortunate than ourselves. I thought it the best of all times to offer this
as a suggestion to the people charged with and giving of their time and efforts
in helping our football club survive and prosper, as it must.
As a suggestion for the relevant steering committee,
whichever that might be, could we pursue a course of action towards returning
to our roots in some small way? That of helping people in need? I feel it would
cement the reason why we are all here supporting, loving, and yes, even
fighting about this dear old club of ours God bless us!
The return of such an ethos would bring another relevance as
to why we are all Hibernians. The reason why we are all here still after all
these years, talking to each other, sometimes even from different lands, on a
daily basis. Proud of the Green and White in our hearts.
Of course the first thought on this might well be ‘what does
that do for us?’ I could attempt to answer that by saying it would give us a
better profile and all of those associated types of things, and that I feel
would be true. To state that it would again return us to our ‘uniqueness’ would
also perhaps be equally true. There would be benefits for the club, of that I
have no doubt.
Most of all though we would be doing something for others that
need help – the truest and most important concept of Edinburgh Hibernian
Football Club. I can think of no finer thought as Christmas is almost upon us
once more.
Erin Go Bragh
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A FOUNDATION FOR DAVID
‘Hibernian was run by St. Patrick’s CYMS as an amateur
charitable football club. The charitable work of Hibernian became legendary not
only in Edinburgh but throughout Scotland’, (Lugton, 1999).
I
began writing these words some two weeks ago after the story of David Alexander
and his brave fight against illness came to my attention via the Hibs.net
messageboard. A thread by a regular contributor took my eye and
aroused my interest. 'John', who I am happy to call an acquaintance, posted a
link to the Heart of Midlothian, (yes I still use that name), website
‘Kickback’, where a thread detailing young David’s bravery and courage lay.
Just
recently I had registered for that forum, after receiving a generous and
agreeable message or two privately from a couple of our friendly rivals across
the city. I had an intention to post a few words there at a suitable moment,
purely as a friendly response to the words I had received. That day a week ago
was the day that I chose to make a small initial contribution to that forum, no
better or more apt a moment would there have been to choose I felt.
As I
observed not only on Kickback but also all the main Hibernian sites over the
past few days, the story of young David Alexander has touched many hearts due
to his bravery and selflessness. Who could not be moved by the story of how
this young man requested that his life savings be put to use in the funds of
Cclasp www.cclasp.co.uk
, an organisation dealing in helping children suffering from Cancer and
Leukaemia? I’d like to come back to this subject shortly if I may. I think that
day and that article in The Daily Record made many of us feel very humble
indeed.
The Daily Record
I
think it important David should know that we are all thinking of him, and that
he and his family have our full support in these trying times. Certainly that
is the case judging by the warmth shown across the various message boards. This
caring attitude has been manifested as wanting to help in some way, to
contribute just as David has done to this very deserving charity. Already we
have seen various fund raising ideas from quiz nights to a dedicated football
tournament, all fine thoughts by some very gracious people.
With
all due respects and great thanks given to our friendly rivals across the city,
I’d like to talk about what I think of as the soul and ethos of Hibernian
Football Club.
Our
legacy, set firmly in place by Canon Hannan is one of decency and giving. It is
one of helping others and offering a helping hand where needed. That Edinburgh
Hibernian came about was no accident, no casual happening, but was a concept of
the kindly Canon in his quest to help others. For this we should be very proud.
Canon
Hannan and Michael Whelahan, along with many helpers wove the rich fabric of
the early years of the club into an organisation that belonged to the community
of Edinburgh and to the ancient Port of Leith. So began a strong association
between the peoples of those places, the community of Hibernian Football Club.
That
this football club of ours is so blessed with uniqueness offers me great
pleasure and satisfaction and not a little love. Not merely is it a football
club alone when one stops to consider the goodness, caring, fellowship and good
deeds that have emerged from this body of people from the shadows of the past.
I say
all this as a framework to a little personal quest of mine. I have a desire
that in some way the club might be able to return to it’s roots, and this is
where the story of the brave young Hibs supporter David, I mentioned previously
comes in.
Something
I would love to see happen is for David’s chosen charity Cclasp to be
patronised by Hibernian Football club as a fitting honour to our fellow
Hibernian fan’s courage. I would love it to evolve into a long-term
relationship and for the followers of Hibernian to identify with this cause, to
relate to it and to offer the outstretched hand of help. If any person in an
official capacity would care to respond to this suggestion in a positive way it
would personally fill me full of pride and the belief I still have in this
institution called Hibernian. There lays a friendly challenge laid down from a
lifelong supporter of this club, ‘The Green Jerseys’.
Not
merely offering words but I will personally offer deeds too. I had a plan to
run a 26.2m marathon race event once again this year and wanted to raise money
in memory of another very brave young man, sadly no longer with us. www.terryfox.org
I am confident I could raise several hundred pounds in this quest too. David’s
chosen charity I have decided is the perfect recipient and it will be done.
I
echo the suggestions about a football tournament and other fund raising ideas
and to those people I say ‘well done’ and ‘make it happen’. Wouldn’t it feel
good if we could all correlate our ideas in one place and work together with
the club on a long-term basis?
Happily
the football club could only see benefits from such a patronage in my view.
When the marketers talk of ‘branding’ and ‘relationship marketing’, what a
wonderful identity to own – that of the club from and of the community,
retaining and progressing strong ties with it’s people.
The
football club that cares about it’s heritage, and community.
‘The social background of Hibernian Football Club, their
founding and their early history, which have given us a club for all the
community, a club with an unconquered soul. Supporting Hibernian is a way of
life for thousands, and if we supporters wish to remain true to the humble
roots from which Hibernian sprang, we should from time to time pause and
consider whether we move under our own direction or at the bidding of forces we
did not originate and cannot control.
The social background of Hibernian and early years of
Hibernian Football Club should be remembered positively, as something to be
treasured and as inspiration for the future. The making of Hibernian has been
brave, colourful and romantic.’ (Lugton, 1999).
January, 2003
Reference:
LUGTON,
A., The Making of Hibernian. Edinburgh:Donald.
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Roadrunner once...Roadrunner twice
Ivan Sproule! The name on every Hibee’s lips of late. The
young Ulsterman is currently cutting a swathe through every defence that
trembles in his way to goal, and what excitement he is creating for the Hibs
support!

The twenty-four year old former engineer, presently staking
a late claim for first-class football with the Hibs is the talk of the SPL and
out with it seems so let’s take a look at this emergent talent and examine if
there is a likelihood of longevity of his recent exploits.
There have been many players in the game previously with
huge pace and not a little trickery combined that have come along and taken a
club and its league by storm and Ivan Sproule is but the latest in a long line
of such players. Please make no mistake however, that is not to denigrate the
young Irishman’s fine achievements over the past few weeks. Suddenly after only
four recent games as a substitute it appears that Ivan’s fledgling professional
career is about to explode into outer space – beware however, there are several
precedents for failure.
Of course it might be said that previous similar players who
have fallen by the wayside might partly be due to the huge expectancy placed
upon the shoulders of every footballer of this kind. It becomes almost a right
of the crowd that every time the ball reaches such a player’s fast feet that
fireworks should occur.
I sometimes muse that the game’s defenders aren’t given
their rightful credit at times. How many times have we seen a young ‘wonder
boy’ to coin the old phrase, have an amazing initial season only to be found
out and worked out by the defenders that now have the experience of dealing
with this not-quite-so-new threat? Yes defenders do actually talk to each other
at times despite contrary opinion, they chat about which way a player tends to
move, whether he has a right foot roll, his pet tricks and all. It’s their job,
it pays their mortgage.
Reading this you may suppose I’m putting rather a dampener
on Ivan’s recent crusade to entertain the Hibernian faithful and what’s more
make a name for himself. Not so. This boy by all accounts has something
special, he has blinding pace and we all know that the modern game revolves
around that quality. Speed disorientates in sport. Sometimes we see a
footballer or other sportsman deceive the opposition but at a pace that the
defender has time to recover. The same trickery performed at pace however can
be murderous and extremely incisive.
From the little footage I have been able to observe of Ivan
Sproule he also possesses an even more unique skill than the one to run like
the wind, that of direct running, now this IS a rare commodity in today’s game
and for me will be, if anything the pivotal ability that projects Ivan into a
hugely successful career. We think back to players the likes of Paul Gascoigne
and in my own case, Stan Collymore who I had the pleasure of watching a few
times. These players were dynamic for many reasons but the primary one was that
they ran straight at defenders. Try and find a defender that enjoys being
tested in this way – they’re rare indeed. What’s more it’s terrific for us fans
to watch, opening up the game and dictating the tempo the way it does. Note
again however the two temperamental individuals concerned here. A psychologist’s
dream some might be tempted to say.

Ivan in typical pose!
The next stage for the young forward will be in actually
establishing himself in the first team! In all the excitement perhaps some of
us are forgetting that his recent deeds have all been as a substitute. Sometimes
it’s difficult for a substitute to come on to the field and contribute
meaningfully during the hurly-burly of the game, at other times the stage is
set for a Sproule to dictate the outcome – just as he did so devastatingly at
Ibrox. I’m sure the issue of a regular peg in the first team dressing room is
the only one in Ivan Sproule’s mind at the moment, encouraged by manager Tony
Mowbray.
Time will tell if Ivan Sproule will be a five-minute wonder.
My considered opinion is that he will succeed. For one reason he has a hunger
for the game, he plays as though he’s in the last chance saloon to impress,
perhaps indeed he is. In the meanwhile Hibernian will reap the benefit.
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JOE AND ME
“Joe
Baker Dies of Heart Attack” (October 06, 2003)
Those were the words that made my heart sink just two years ago when I
discovered that a great hero of my childhood had passed on. I am sure that many
can recount a similar feeling when I say that this man was something of a
cornerstone of my younger days, hero-worshipping him, studying everything he
did on the pitch and avidly reading every few words I could about the great
centre-forward as I knew he was. There too were the stories from a Hibernian-supporting
father. In truth there was never any possibility that he wouldn’t become my
hero.
I’m sure there was something about Joe that
transcended pure hero-worship though, judging by the effect he had on football
supporters whoever had the blessing to call him the centre-forward of their
team. Who can forget the homage paid to him back in Torino for all those
years ago? The Baker Boy played but a mere single season in Italy with another
young prodigal, Denis Law, yet still he is remembered with much fondness and
not a little acclaim.
Much has been lovingly written about Joe, not least
in the Mass Hibsteria fanzine and on this website. For an anecdotal history and
a full account of his many achievements, please note the references at the foot
of the page to two excellent articles.
My aim here is not to compete with those excellent
words but to offer a different and personal slant on the Joe Baker story, for
this man wove through my younger days, seemingly inextricably.

Denis Law inspects Joe’s face after his
recuperation
from their infamous car accident in Torino
As a youngster living in Nottingham, though a firm
Hibernian supporter, I was ironically able to watch a great Hibernian hero at
something like his peak. This is not an opportunity that would have been
afforded me in Edinburgh not being old
enough to watch his exploits at Hibs the first time around. Although I was too
young to understand everything that was happening on the pitch I was under no
illusion that I was watching anything but a great and legendary player in Nottingham. Joe just had
that special ‘aura’ about him which was very hard to explain and which belongs
to the very few.
The football fans from the red side of Nottingham could hardly
believe their good fortune when Joe, from Arsenal, signed on the dotted line at
The City Ground. Joe had a stunning goal-scoring record at Highbury which at my
last inspection was superior to Thierry Henry’s in goals per game – no mean
feat. What was very noticeable was how well the Nottingham public took to
Joe – like a favourite son. Still to this day the football fans of the city
talk of the number nine in hushed and reverential tones. Similarly one can also
still view the odd ‘Baker 9’ garibaldi red Forest jersey around
the city. How I love to see that.
By my calculations it’s around thirty-eight years
since Joe wowed the big, City Ground crowds with his surging forward play, how
many players do you know with that kind of longevity of popularity – especially
as Joe played for Forest for only a relatively short period of time?
Shortly after Joe died I met a friend, a friend who
is a Nottingham Forest supporter of many
years standing and one who has seen many wonderful internationalists play for
his team winning a large quantity of silverware. His first words to me that
evening were simply and sadly, “my one
and only all-time hero died this week”. The words were almost unnecessary
but the understanding between two lovers of the great game was implicit.
Those schoolboy images of him remain extremely
vivid to me, the equal or more than any other player I can think of. I still
see the low through ball hit between two defenders and Joe in a blur or acceleration
racing onto the pass leaving his markers yards behind. Not only did he have
blinding pace but the quickness of thought that made him almost unstoppable at
times. Another strong image is of him turning a defender and shooting
explosively with either foot equally. Add strong aerial ability, superb close
control, and agility around the box and one has the master centre-forward which
is what Joe was.

The dynamic Baker crashes in another goal
in the red shirt of Nottingham Forest
How pleased was I when he re-signed for the Hibees,
passing by an unhappy period of injury at Forest and then Sunderland. Deep in my
heart I knew it was all over though, we would never see the great forward in
his pomp of the likes we had done before. For the Nottingham fans there was
to be no gnashing of teeth at Joe’s unhappy departure as they knew he would
never be the same as befitted his free transfer from the club, much as they
loved him. One last fling at Easter Road seemed very appropriate to me as a
Hibernian supporter though.
My one last poignant memory of Joe and me was after
the news of his death. I received a message at home on the lunchtime before
Hibs’ next game in which he would be honoured before the kick-off. The message
simply asked me if I’d like to be a part of the minute’s silence for Joe which
was going to happen at Easter Road and to stay by my mobile phone.
That afternoon shortly before 3pm I received a call from a very good friend and
Hibby sitting in the Famous Five Stand. I wasn’t at home though as I wanted to
share my last moments with Joe Baker somewhere special. In the locality where I
live there lies forestry, part of what would have historically been ancient Sherwood Forest. I took my daily
jog through those woodlands and sat on a bench at a clearing amongst the
ancient oaks and birches on that sunny Saturday afternoon and took the call I
had been awaiting. A brief announcement from my friend, and I listened in to
the sound of silence and utter respect from my other home at Easter Road.
As I sat there in silence looking at the autumn sun
glistening through the trees with just a pair of horses for company in the
nearby field, I remembered what Joe had meant to me as a boy. I think Joe would
have appreciated his one last day in the sun too – in the green fields of
Nottinghamshire.
Stu
The Baker Boy: Joe’s Story
http://www.masshibsteria.com/index.php?option=news&task=viewarticle&sid=68
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NICE ONE CYRIL
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Recognise
that song title? Some of the more mature amongst us certainly will.
It's one of those silly tunes that's been in the back of your head for
over thirty years now. Don't worry, you're not alone and you can get
help. It's called the plague of the football song.
The chirpy ode to former Tottenham Hotspurs' stalwart
Cyril Knowles is hardly alone in the cringe stakes, we all know of a
whole catalogue of bad football songs, indeed there are very few 'good'
ones.
It's important that we establish a distinction
here straight away as the author enjoys nothing better than a rousing
good chorus of' Glory Glory To The Hibees' at the appropriate time,
(i.e., in the day or at night, but no it's not the joyous coming
together of a group of like minded supporters I talk of here, but
rather the sad collection of dubious collaborations between groups of
highly paid professional footballers and oft 'celebrity' fans to record
a platter for the mass's consumption.
They're all flooding back now aren't they? I'm sorry...I really couldn't help myself.
Perhaps
the first football song that I ever heard as a youngster still makes me
want to kill myself. The song was called 'World Cup Willie' and
celebrated the English mascot when England won the World Cup by
accident. Willie was kind of a lion in football shorts and used to
prance about on the pitch rather like the idiotic jig that Nobby Stiles
did after the '66 final. I'm not bitter honestly.
Nobby Stiles, the
1966 World Cup mascot
To
be fair England's follow up song for the wonderful 1970's World Cup
Finals in Mexico was a good effort. 'Back Home' whilst suffering from
the lack of vocal dexterity by the England squad was a cheery enough
ditty and a catchy song with stickability. A shame for England that
Peter Bonetti in the England goal didn't have that last quality. Gordon
Banks' shirt on a coat hanger would have been more use during those
finals.
Another that sticks in the mind (if not the craw - dictionary definition: to cause one to feel abiding discontent and resentment) was the Leeds United song.
"And we play all the way for Leeds United
Elland Road is the only place for us
With heart and soul for the goal that's clearly sighted
We're out to toast each other from that silver cup"
Sung in a deep Yorkshire accent, 'Leeds Yew-nah-ted' this always mystified me as most of their best players were Scottish.
Causing
less chagrin by far was a song by a Mr. Don Fardon. It was entitled
'Belfast Boy' and no prizes for guessing it was about George Best in
the days when he was slumming it, winning the European Cup and the
European Player of the Year award at Manchester United before his
fledgling career really took off at Hibs. The song which was recorded
especially for a TV documentary about George reached number 32 in the
charts and some of the lyrics included this gem:
"You won't have long in the limelight; no you won't have many days.
What did Don Fardon know that Hibs chairman Tom Hart didn't? Answers on a twenty pound note please.
"If I can just get past these next
four defenders Mather's Bar will be
open soon".
One
football song that I found truly despicable was the Baddiel and Skinner
effort with the Lightening Seeds, 'Three Lions'. To hear Baddiel's
"voice" groaning on about "thirty years of hurt" turned my
stomach and still does if I have the misfortune of hearing it. What on
earth was Ian Broudie of the Seeds thinking of getting caught up in
that one? From a similar era the Fat Les ditty 'Vindaloo' was a blight
on the career of that fine actor, Keith Allen. It certainly owned the
full stereophonic/moronic sound required for full sales of this type of
song however.
I cannot finish the piece without
mentioning an effort made for the Scottish national team and Rod
Stewart's wallet though. Ole Ola by Rod was an absolute corker of the
genus. Witness these lyrics, Lennon and McCartney eat your heart out.
"When the blue shirts run out in Argentina
Our hearts will be beating like a drum
And your nerves are so shattered you can't take it
Automatically you reach out for the rum.
And the chorus which stretched poetic license within an inch of its life:
"Ole ola, Ole ola
We're gonna bring that World Cup back from over there"
I
recall in the first week of the Argentina '78 World Cup there was a
violent gunshot incident in a bar that Stewarty was in where Rod had to
hide under the table. The press at the time blamed it on a robbery if I
recall, but those of who had heard Ole Ola new the real reason.
Rod in rather effete looking clothing for once. |
I'm
not going to punish you any further with this stuff. I'll just add the
closing talkover words by Brian Clough at the end of Nottingham
Forest's completely mundane yet not inappropriate title 'We've got the
whole world in our hands' from the late seventies - a 45 rpm single I
bought for 10p recently but which all of my Forest-supporting friends
have kindly refused to take as a gift.
'Follow that, Yarwood...!'
Stu
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Peter Barr Cormack –
Rock and Roll Footballer!
An unusual title you might say but allow
me to explain as all will be revealed! Peter Barr Cormack was one of my three
favourite Hibees of all time along with Joe Baker and Alex Cropley. All very
different players but owning a little genius each in their own way.
Like the aforementioned Joe, I had the
great pleasure of watching Peter play both with Hibernian and Nottingham Forest to whom he was
transferred to for £80,000 in 1969.
From a very early age Peter displayed a
maturity beyond his years. His legendary debut against Real Madrid in which he
debuted with a goal in Hibs’ 2-0 victory is well-charted in the history of
notable moment in the club and what an amazing feeling that must have been for
the young Peter Cormack. Much more was to follow in a distinguished career for
the good-looking young man with the shock of dark hair, bursting into
Hibernian’s ranks.
I have often talked with interest about
Peter with other Hibbies who managed to watch him in his prime. It seems that
everyone who saw him had an opinion about him, particularly about the unique
way in which he moved about the pitch. One friend, a Portobello man, related to
me once about how he would watch Peter Cormack at Easter Road from the East
Terrace and skip all the way back home to Porty after the game, imitating
Peter’s trademark high-stepping gait. Peter had this appearance of kicking his
legs up high behind him when he ran - a run that was always instantly
recognisable amongst a group of players in the middle of a game. I recently
spoke to another long-time supporter who likened Peter’s run to that of a
racehorse galloping! Here was far more to Peter Barr Cormack than an unusual
run however as he was to show.
Whatever persuaded Hibs to offload their
talented young player I’m not really sure. I’ll make the standard conclusion
that the board at Easter Road wanted or needed to ease Hibernian’s cash flow –
there could be little other reason as Cormack began to show, growing in stature
in the original English Division 1, firstly with Nottingham Forest, then with a
powerful Liverpool side, led by the legendary Bill Shankly – perhaps no mean judge
of a player one might say.
Peter was one of those players that
represented a certain era for me personally – along with George Best and a
select few he seemed to be part of a vanguard of young footballers who were
part of the generation that I looked up to. Georgie Best had just been crowned
‘El Beatle’ after his exploits in the European Cup, and seemed a lifetime away
from men like Bobby Charlton and the old guard. There was an awful lot
happening in society at this time – The Beatles had grown their hair long and
were taking drugs for one thing! ‘Flower power’ had been all around and young
people were seeking the route back to San Francisco – with or
without flowers in their hair.
The footballers that I and my pals at
school were most avidly collecting bubblegum stamp cards for were of guys that
looked like Georgie…and Peter. Bobby Charlton and his generation were
definitely ‘square’. A ‘Peter Cormack’ could be worth up to five ‘Alex
Stepney’s’ on he bubblegum card black market!
Peter had a very good time of things at Nottingham Forest’s City Ground by
the banks of the River Trent. Although toiling in a poor and degenerating
Forest side, years away yet from the new messiah Clough and just after an, at
their best Joe Baker and Ian Storey-Moore – both golden boys to the Forest
faithful, Peter played in midfield and scored creditably from that position for
two seasons. He also added to his final tally of nine full caps in the dark
blue of Scotland.
The point that most of the local media and
supporters picked up upon was the fact that many of those goals had been
headers. Perhaps at first glance (no pun intended) this might have seemed
unusual. Certainly Peter though by no means being a small man was certainly no
towering giant in the penalty box either. His height alone was not the reason
for his menacing ability in the air, but rather his perfect timing. Peter was
one of those players that could put his head in where it mattered first. His
exquisite timing also dictated that in a melee of players going up for a high
ball in the box, his would be the one that appeared to ‘hang’ there in the air
– often being at the peak of his leap, with his head on the ball when other
lesser players were already on the way down to earth. At odd times in history
these unusual players have identified themselves to the public eye but very
rarely so.
Other Hibs friends have told me just what
a good goalkeeper Peter was ironically. The same talent and technique that gave
him great jumping ability he could also use in the goalies shirt. One Hibby
whose opinion I respect greatly is of the opinion that if Peter hadn’t become
an International outfield player, he certainly would have been capped as a
goalkeeper.
Peter was neither a one-trick pony of a
player either. His graceful play, passing ability and nimble footwork were a
joy to watch. He had an array of crowd-pleasing tricks on the ball too. I have
heard people say he wasn’t notable for his tackling ability but I’ve never
necessarily subscribed to that notion having seen him dig in during midfield
battles well.
Of course whilst showcasing all this
talent it became quickly impossible for Peter’s situation to remain the same.
Bill Shankly at Liverpool had noticed the young Scot’s
sparkling displays and wanted him as the last part of the jigsaw at Anfield.
Peter was introduced to the Liverpool team after an,
expensive for that time, fee of £110,000 and furthered a very successful career
on Merseyside. for five seasons before being transferred to Bristol City. Similarly it
has been my experience to note that those fans of Liverpool FC that ever saw
him play, like those of Hibs and Forest have only very
fond memories of his captivating style of play. A cursory check though any Liverpool website will
confirm that.

Liver Pete
Cormack in the Liverpool jersey
When I sometimes see the all-too-few
pictures of, and information about Peter Cormack, in books and on the Internet
I have to say I often wonder why others at times are more spoken of. Perhaps
it’s simply that his years a | | |