W Reid 30
Logan >45
Match Information
Attendance: 12,000
Referee: J Bell (Dundee)
Matchday: Monday
Match Trivia
I have written before that Reid’s value to the Rangers lies in his shooting. The Ibrox centre sends the ball from the foot as hard and often as he can. Reid gave us another object lesson, bearing out the truth of this statement, at Easter Road yesterday afternoon. When late in the second half, I tired counting his attempts – good, bad and indifferent – to beat Allan, the total had reached the barker’s dozen. Many people may deny that Reid’s idea of the centre-forward game is not the correct one, but they cannot shut their eyes to the fact that it pays. One of the thirteen efforts alluded to he scored a goal off his own bat when the first half was thirty-one minute old, and nine minutes from the close of the game when about to make his fourteenth effort, a foul given against a Hibernian defender for bringing him down outside the penalty line enabled Logan to ‘make siccar’ the Rangers position as winners. This goal did not finish the dashing Rangers’ centre, who seemed to be out for blood. When three minutes remained for play he wormed his way round a trio of Hibernians and slashed the ball into the back of the net in the manner he seems to take an almost fiendish delight. To the superficial observer this goal may have appeared the best goal of the match. I did not think so. Logan’s foul kick – an express like swerving ball, which unaccountable found its way past a back and Allan – was a highly commendable effort, but I preferred Reid’s first goal. The suddenness of the effort made it appear simple. Allan had just dealt with a fairly good ball from Brown, when the Ibrox opportunist, who was always there or thereabout, appeared on the scene. The rest seemed ridiculously easy – to him. The Hibernian custodian never saw the ball until it was in the net. Some people might be inclined to say that a three goals margin over represents the Rangers superiority in this somewhat scrappy game. But those who judged hastily must have lost sight of the fact that in a finishing sense the Hibernians were a rank bad side. They were a trifle unfortunate twice in the opening half, I admit. First Fleming had bad luck with a low header, which Hempsey caught on the goal line, and just before the interval the same player simply refused to equalise the score. Instead he gave Hempsey what a schoolboy would call a nice ‘keeper’. I have already described the game as scrappy. The glorious sunshine and the somewhat narrow on fines of the Easter Road pitch – improved almost beyond recognition – may have been responsible. Rangers throughout were always slightly the better tea, but so long as the Hibernian half-backs held out, anything was possible. They cracked up in the last quarter of an hour. Then the ‘light blues’ pressed home their advantage. For seventy-five minutes Kerr, Paterson and Grosert did yeoman service, although they never touched the standard set by the Ibrox intermediate players. Gordon, after he measured up Williamson, had something of a beanfeast, Logan wrought like a Trojan, and Galt showed no trace of his long absence from active service. Behind them Campbell and Muir were safe. The Hibernian backs were likewise good. Girdwood was the more robust of the latter pair, but I liked best Templeton, who, like Muir on the other side was neat and clean in his every movement. I was not impressed with either goalkeeper. Hempsey brought off a couple of shaky saves, and Allan never seemed too happy. Forward, Bowie, Bennett and Reid of course – were the Ibrox stars. But the inside right man, I fancy, plays the ball just a trifle too often up the centre, and too seldom to his partner. Paterson had his weak moments, I grant you, but he ought to have been supported better. I am afraid Brown is scarcely Rangers class. He did many smart things in the outfield, but once clear of the opposition he seemed undecided whether to shoot or centre. I can say little in favour if the Hibernian attack. Even the clever Willie Smith was almost unrecognisable. The inside men, Hendren and Fleming – both a trifle tousy now and then – were but fairy, and Reid, the recruit from the junior Parkhead, suffered from inexperience. He started fairly well, but latterly tapered almost out of sight
