Simpson 9
Mason 21
Thornton 65
Main 89
Match Information
Attendance: 20,000
Referee: J Baillie (Motherwell)
Matchday: Saturday
Match Trivia
Heart throb No 1? Phew! Ill bet those who were fortunate enough to be thrilled by this dramatic Ibrox clash will tell you they got all the heart throbs they will want for many a day. Just think of it. Rangers two down with twenty minutes plated. What a shock. And what a fight back. In the old days, Rangers were libelled in that they could make the grade when put behind in the early stages. Long since have they silenced those critics. I shall come to give fulsome praise to a gallant St Johnstone. But to get to the heart of the story I shall take you to the last half-minute. The champions were then a goal in arrears. Could they save themselves? Frankly, I did not think so in the face of how the Muirton defenders had held them at bay. Then the perfect ending from a Rangers point of view. Bob McPhail, handicapped by the plaster over his left eye, always looked the saviour of his side, if anyone could act the heroic role. A loose ball came to him. Over went a high drooping ball. As Wylie waited it at the far-off post, I espied Main advancing on goal. I sensed something would happen. It did. As the keeper clutched it the slightly-built Main met Wylie. Into the net went goalkeeper and ball and to the heavens rose a cry of exultation from the Ibrox fans. They had hoped against hope. They felt they were to see their favourites overthrown. The relief must have been tremendous. Yes, a match I shall long remember. Not that the football reached heights of excellence, but by jove, we were gripped and thrilled by the sheer fury of the struggle. St Johnstone will have gone home convinced they were unlucky not to triumph. In this they are wrong, but what I will say of them is that if they continue to reveal the same intelligence and tactical shrewdness, we shall hail them as a menace to any side in the country. They adopted the right tactics. No needless palaver. Mason, the most purposeful and far-seeing middleman afield, gave his mates the lead. The ball was kept swinging merrily. In this way, they not only made progress quickly, but kept the home defence opened up. They were not lured into any false sense of security even when they held a two-goal advantage at the interval. They knew they had to strike hard and keep going with unyielding resolution. Wylie was fortunate more than once, particularly on the interval, when McPhail guided the ball over his head only to watch it curl over the bar as he lay on the ground, but against that break, I could quote you innumerable instances when his alacrity, agility and perspicacity of Thornton and company almost with scorn. And truth to tell, the finishing of the Rangers forwards, or rather their leading-up work in the first half, was on occasions as much like the true traditional Ibrox stuff as I am like Robert Taylor! After the turn, however, when they threw everything, they had into their valiant bid to avert defeat, there were spells when they moved with crispness and determination that may not have been classical, but proved beyond any doubt that when the pinch comes, they have the big heart for the big job. Many an anxious moments did Dawson have - a remark that has a wealth of meaning, for it explains how the Perth forwards snapped at almost every chance. But though Lorimer and his rollicking raiders were ever dangerous in their fleeting forays, it was at the other end where most of the exhilarating incidents were witnessed. What a magnificent due were Welsh and Taylor. Intimidation? They did not know the word. They went out to meet everything and invariably succeeded in their mission. And along with Mason, the tall Littlejohn crushed the Rangers thrusts. A glutton for work, I did not see Thorton once beat him in the air. Cheyne was far from secure. His indecision was cutely exploited by St Johnstone in the first half. It was not so afterwards, for the simple reason that they did not get the opportunity. Gray took full marks despite the trouble he experienced from the dancing, elusive Caskie. Late in the game, Simpson changed places with McKillop with the idea of lending greater weight to the right flank. A sound move. He had a hand in the first goal. I would give Reid a word of advice. He has the football, but he must learn that to beat a man twice will merely hold up the advance, never once did he go at Welsh on the inside. Venters, like George Brown, was a mixture. Perhaps I should not couple him with Brown, for in the early stages the fair-haired Ranger excelled in the tackle and the pass the complete half-back at that juncture. And the goals. The champions got their first shock in then minutes. After the ball had hovered around Dawson and Simpson had slipped in attempting to kick clear, his namesake pounced on the ball and whipped it home but not before Dawson had stopped his first shot. Eleven minutes later, they delivered their second blow through Mason, the man who once put them out of the Cup when he wore a Falkirk jersey. We had to wait until 20 minutes of the second-half had gone before we saw Rangers break that defence. Thorton did it. The drama in the finish you know
