Murdoch 20
B McPhail 55, 60
Match Information
Attendance: 55,000
Referee: W.G. Holborn (Glasgow)
Matchday: Saturday
Match Trivia
Rangers and Motherwell at Ibrox treated a 50,000 crowd to a brilliant game that sent everyone away perfectly satisfied unless, of course, those two ardent clubmen who are only satisfied at victory. It was a game of two halfs. In the first Motherwell were the masters by reason of deliberate and skilful football that put the opposition in a tangle; in the second Rangers by strong, forceful play assumed the role of masters. A draw was a grand result. Some of the football games which I have been delegated to attend this season I would have liked to have dismissed with a ten-line paragraph. But this clash between Rangers and Motherwell certainly must not be classed in that category. Here was a game that satisfied every desire of the true follower of football. There was a delightful mixture of carpet football and that smashing forceful football where every man is on his toes and every man is expected to think and act almost simultaneously. We had football of every type that is good to watch served up to us, and the ninety minutes play was packed with thrills. One big thrill is the shout of the drum-beater at a side-show at any carnival. Here it was in reality. One big thrill that left us gasping at the end, and wondering how ninety minutes could pass so quickly. Even the interval seemed too short to allow of us recalling the blood-warming incidents of the first half. I once sat beside James McMenemy at a football match. His feet moved with every movement of the game. The fellow in front of us had a nice new coat all soiled with the clay of the entry path. I wondered at the time that such a one as Nap could be so disturbed from the realms of normality. Now I know. I actually booted a decent lad from an opposition paper, and he and I are I hope -perfectly good friends. This was, by a long way, the best game I have seen since the League National between Scotland and England at Parkhead last season. Indeed, I go so far as to put it on a par, and that is writing a big sentence. In the first half Motherwell were top dogs, and if that fickle old lady, Dame Fortune, had shown any semblance of consistency a trait foreign to her character, however, - the Lanarkshire lads would have gone to the pavilion with more than a goal lead. Possibly, in your travels, you have seen a wheezing old motor-lorry trying impudently to pass a smooth-running, highly-polished saloon of up-to-date manufacture, Rangers could be likened to the former in the first half. They made a dash of it, stepping on the accelerator for about ten minutes. Motherwell, in the saloon, let them try to pass, found they couldnt and then went into a beautifully smooth-running top-gear. Rangers were never in it after that. For a long time now, we have been used to seeing Rangers showing the other fellows how to play football. Here the order of the going was emphatically reversed. It was a real treat to watch the League champions. Their football was always varied, but always accurate, and as pleasing to the hardest critic as a properly served dish to an epicure. It was really astonishing at times to see Rangers placed in such a tangle of indecision. Time after time the attacks of Motherwell led to General Mix-up taking charge of the Light Blues defence. And the great schemer in the Motherwell ranks was Stevenson. Naturally, I must go the rounds. I do not see Motherwell every Saturday, and I have been told that the inside left is only a shadow of his former self. On yesterdays display my informants must be found guilty of a cruel libel. Stevenson is the finest inside left in Scotland. I remember writing last season that if I resided in Motherwell Id willingly pay a bob alone to see Stevenson on the ball. I hold to that. In the first half he made the Rangers half-backs look foolish. They, when he was yo-yo-ing with the ball, did not know where they were at times. His easy, graceful manner of beating an opponent single handed, his close passing with Ferrier to work a way through, and his wide transfer to the other wing, were all the work of the complete master of inside football. It seemed as if Stevenson inspired the others in the team, and the first goal of the game, after twenty minutes, only came when expected. Motherwell at that period were definitely the better team. Hamilton was considerably a busier man than McClory, and one was wondering how long he would stand undefeated when Murdoch shot a goal. The ball first came from the left wing. Hamilton punted clear. The leather went to Wales, who centred a high one. Again, Hamiltons fits operated, and the ball found itself the centre of an exciting scrimmage. From a bunch of players Murdoch emerged with the leather at his toes, and a right-foot drive from about ten yards did the trick. Motherwell went on then to play even better stuff. Rangers were scraggy in comparison. They were completely knocked off their balance and did not have sufficient escape from defence to indulge in organised attack. Occasionally English darted upfield or Smith ambled up an avenue on the left touchline, but it came to nothing. The Craig, the solidity of Dowell, and the dash and hefty kicking of Ellis had the same effect as a six-foot granite wall might have on the rushes of a bull that pretended to be angry. It looked any odds-on Motherwell adding to their score, and they certainly were unfortunate not to do som. They worked with a complete unison, the achievement of which was never even suggested by Rangers, whose inside forwards, McPhail and Marshall, were particularly weak and nebulous. Ferrier shot, McFadyen shot, McMenemy shot, Murdoch shot, and Ferrier shot. But each effort was just that very important trifle out, or else Hamilton saved; and then a few minutes from the interval Rangers defence was riddled like a top of a pepper box. In fact, every man in a light blue jersey seemed mesmerised and stood looking on. Both Ferrier and McFadyen in this close-to-the-opposition-goal bombardment, struck the upright, almost on the same mark it appeared, with Hamilton only guessing it appeared, with Hamilton only guessing where the ball was. A most lucky escape for Rangers. Came the interval, and then the resumption of hostilities. Rangers reminded me of the fellow who took off his coat to have a real go, and it seemed, in the doing of it, as though they had thrown off some sort of shackle. They tire in with wonderful spirit and by sheer strength equalised within nine minutes. Smith, a burly sallow, although not too fairly tackled, kept his feet and carried on down the line. He booted a low ball across goal. McClory stepped out and bent down. He got his left hand to it, and the leather sprang six yards from him. The eager McPhail seized on it, and with his left boot drove to the back of the net. That goal did McPhail good. He was galvanised into action, and he and Marshall now became as strong as they had been weak. Backed up by the men behind them, who also had improved scores per cent, they overwhelmed the daintier moving Motherwell, and by strong forceful play, that, nevertheless, was full of skill, Rangers simply smashed their way towards McClory. Englis, whom o considered Rangers consistently best forward all through the game, tapped a ball down to McPhail a dozen yards from goal. The inside lefts right foot did the damage this time. McClory was well-beaten man. Time 15 minutes. For a spell after that Motherwell so many orphans in a Rangers storm. They were lost, and it looked as if they were lost beyond recovery, until Ferrier, their captain, found a way to a haven of contentment. This was twenty-three minutes from the resumption. McPhail, eight yards or so from his own penalty box line, elbowed an opponent, and the referee one of the best whistlers I have seen this season granted a free kick. The players lined up as Ferrier took his stand for the canter at the ball. Four or five Rangers made a solid wall between Ferrier and Hamilton, and then Meiklejohn changed his mind. He left the wall to cover McMenemy, I think, and in so doing, left a space in the barrier. Ferrier let go, and Hamilton jumped vainly to stop the balls progress. Level terms again, and after that each side just went about it in their respective styles, with Rangers still the stronger moving. Marshall had developed a fine game. Seldom have I been given reason to give this player the kudos. I hasten to do so now. For half and hour of this half he played a skilful and valiant part, but he did miss a golden-edged opportunity to inflict on Motherwell the seasons first defeat. He made the mistake of hanging on that fraction of a second too long and allowed Ellis to recover to make a successful tackle. I refuse, however, to offer any detailed criticism of the players on view. They served up too good a game for that, and I was glad when the scores were level at the final whistle. We of the fifty thousand who gathered were treated to as fine an exhibition of football as we would wish to see. It was packed with skill and thrill, as brilliant as last seasons meeting between the pair dull. Can I say any more? Well, I suppose I must express some sort of grouse, I wish there were more teams in Scotland of the same calibre as these two. How happy we would be, and how happy would be the state of our grand old game. Motherwell, on this display, must be taken as likely to hang on to the League flag for another season, and up to now the only team whom I consider likely to take if rom them is their opponents of yesterday. But Rangers are not what they were and I know the old gag that they never were for as long as they have it in them to be as inept as they were at periods in the first half yesterday so will they be in danger of losing points. The experiment of playing Smith at outside left was a highly interesting one, and I take sides with those who declare that this tall youth is a clever footballer. Towards the end of the game, he changed placed with English, and Sam of the fir hair also did very well on the left touchline. Celtics big problem is the lack of an outside left. Before very long we might find ourselves discussing a Rangers left-wing problem, but it will be of a different nature. Who, we might possibly be asking, is the best of four?
