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Fifty Years Ago - Barcelona Bound


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Our school game was away in East Kilbride, a delayed mid-morning kick off. The game was complete by half noon and four of us climbed into the Tunnocks van. We headed on a detour through Eaglesham and on to Newton Mearns before heading to Ibrox. We were avoiding Clarkson, the afternoon before an underground build-up of gas had exploded. Ten shops on the Main Street had been completely destroyed, 22 folks perished and, over 100 were injured. Ibrox was becalmed; obviously the disappointing midweek result was not the only factor affecting a crowd of 21,000 for the visit of Motherwell.

 

The teams that Saturday were Rangers : McCloy, Jardine, Mathieson, Greig, McKinnon, Smith, Henderson, Conn, Stein, Fyfe and, MacDonald. Motherwell : MacRae, Whiteford, Gillespie, Forsyth, McCallum, Goldthorpe, Campbell, McClymont, Muir, McInally and, Lawson. The four of us had a bit of insight, the 'Well number seven, Paddy Campbell was our Coach at the burgeoning Fir Par Boys Club. Paddy was a Nothern Ireland international who had plenty of time for anyone who had time for the game.

 

The Motherwell side had plenty of characters, Paddy was joined by Jumbo Muir, Jackie McInally(Alan's old man), Tam Forsyth, bean pole striker John Goldthorpe and, Keeper Keith MacRae(soon to be transferred to Man City for £100,000). Enough to subdue a subdued Rangers, half time was 0-0. The mid game break at Ibrox was a drama in three parts half a century past. The pie and bovril stall was challenged by the circling lads and lassies of StadiaCatering. Replete in white aprons and forage caps, they traveled the Ibrox cinder track holding trays of Chipmonk crisps, Lees Macaroon bars and, juice. Another circumnavigator was the old boy carrying the poled blackboard with the winning luck programme number chalked upon. 

 

Finally, as half time neared ending, the Ballboys dragged a trolley from the tunnel containing the tin plated letters and numbers to be planted on the Copland terrace wall. These were the half time scores, each letter was followed by two numbers. The back page of the match day programme carried the explaining formulae ie Game A 2-1 translated as Ayr United 2 Arbroath 1. Further, in those days the League Cup final was played on a Saturday, kick-off 3 O'Clock. Celtic were playing Partick Thistle at Hampden in front of 60,000. Apparently, Game H was 4-0?

 

One of us four had a younger brother who was an Ibrox Ballboy, he was called over to the Enclosure wall. He had just helped putting out the tin plates, he assured us that it was a regular problem what way around the numbers were placed. A middle aged guy behind us was letting off steam reference Billy Mathieson. Our left back was a bluff Fifer commonly referred to as, 'Billy Wan Fit' because of his over reliance on his left peg. It was taken further that day, "he couldnae kick doors at Halloween" screamed the Enclosure Messiah.

 

The Ibrox PA system sounded like the type to be found in a swimming pool, a distinct tinny echo was it's main characteristic. As the second half got underway, it was announced Partick Thistle were leading 4-zip, it was repeated to growing cheers. I did not witness any Rangers supporters running out to get taxis to Hampden but I have met a couple who swear they did so, ah false memory syndrome? The crowd was galvanised and the team too, Johan Fyfe scored a double, Doddie and Sandy chipped in for a 4-0 victory. The result had taken us up to eighth in the table, slightly better than mid table.

 

Thistle won the League Cup in handsome fashion, the final finished 4-1 in their favour. Their victory dominated the Sunday press and deserved spilled into midweek. The Glasgow Herald agreed, Ian Archer and Cyril Horne lionised their beloved Jags. Their were two other match reports on the inside back page, Aberdeen had won 0-1 at Cappielow and Hibs had demolished Falkirk 6-0. We were two pages inside, behind the TV listings(only three channels), Thistle-Sellik and, the two other matches mentioned. We had Killie the following week, a win could see us move up to seventh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Was working that day and when going to the canteen for afternoon tea break someone had a radio on.The presenter said "we are going over to Hampden for highlights of the final" and I listened in wonder as they relayed the goals 1-0 Jags/2-0 Jags/3-0 Jags and 4-0 Jags,leaving me elated.

Went out that night with my young brother and my mate(a lifetime Jags fan).

After leaving pub we got stopped by the Police(real ones in those days) for singing too loudly and then with a smile they left us to enjoy the rest of our evening but calm the singing.

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I was about 11yr old and was sitting outside a church waiting on a scramble when 2 older guys walked past with theirs Celtic scarves on....it was about 4.15pm...i asked them the score and they told me it was 4..0 to thistle at half time when they left....i laughed as i never believed them.

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36 minutes ago, onevision said:

I was about 11yr old and was sitting outside a church waiting on a scramble when 2 older guys walked past with theirs Celtic scarves on....it was about 4.15pm...i asked them the score and they told me it was 4..0 to thistle at half time when they left....i laughed as i never believed them.

Waiting on a scramble - there's a blast from the past.

 

Ooh the excitement!

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1 hour ago, Yorkie Bear said:

or a poor-oot as we called it in Embra.

Yorkie,

 

'A poor-oot' - I have never heard the term. Do you know the derivation?

 

Born and bred in deepest, darkest Lanarkshire; we were taught there were NO poor people in Caledonia's craggy capital.

 

The service bus went through my village back in the 60s-70s. It was a number 56 and it's destination was 'Cravat City via Shotts'.

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This is a great thread, thanks for all the posts 26th.

Message boards can be combative and unpleasant at times, I'm as much to blame for that as anyone. This type of thread is what the internet was made for; warm, intelligent, informative and original.

Hat tipped. 

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1 hour ago, 26th of foot said:

Born and bred in deepest, darkest Lanarkshire; we were taught there were NO poor people in Caledonia's craggy capital.

A quick wander through Wester Hailes or Pennwell would certainly suggest otherwise.  There's a spot not far from me that was named 'Little Bosnia' until recently.

 

What is this scramble/poor oot you speak of?

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