Brown (2)
Gordon
J Bowie
Match Information
Attendance: 45,000
Referee: T Robertson (Glasgow)
Matchday: Saturday
Match Trivia
I heard quite a lot of people - and good football people at that – say after the Glasgow Cup final at Ibrox that they had just witnessed a right good hard game. Those who expressed themselves in this fashion could not have been sincere – they were indulging in platitudes surely. They would have been very much nearer the mark has they said that Firhill rear trio and McMullan put up a stubborn fight against the ever so much cleverer Rangers, for really the others didn’t matter much. The match never appeared to me as being much of a contest. The result was never in doubt. Half an hour had gone ere Gordon got his head to Archibald’s second or third ‘corner,’ following which the ball glanced into the net off Brough; but long before this happened to win the cup – which it really did – the less superficial observer had his mind made up that it was all up with the Thistle. Had Patrick been favoured by the wind in the first half and by some means or other drawn first blood, things might have been different; as it was, they never looked like keeping up their end, to say nothing of winning. They were just as well beaten as the three goals’ margin indicates. From first to last, save from a fugitive breakaway, the tie, I might say, was fought out within easy hail of Ferguson, who despite the four goals chalked up against him, added to his reputation. It was no fault of the big Airdriehill goalkeeper that the Thistle were so soundly thrashed. Their half-backs failed them badly as a line. Poor Brough, who left for ‘somewhere’ on Saturday night to figure in the greater game, could make nothing of Cairns, and Hamilton was in pretty much the same boat against restless, boring Brown. At the beginning McMullan made praiseworthy efforts to get his wing going, but, obviously overwrought; he discarded the correct constructive game later for one of get the ball away at any cost. And could you blame him with forwards who would not, or could not, respond and a wing pair in opposition who gave him no rest? I am always keeping in mind the fact that the Queen’s Cross van did not get from behind the support they were entitled to; still, they should have done better with their opportunities. We saw as little of the old John Bowie early in the seconds half, when the left-winger landed in a few nice centres – that was all – but the other John, whose surname is King, did even less of consequence. The ball seemed too hot for the Dykehead-Newcastle man to hold for more than the tiniest fraction of a second; his parting with it was extremely faulty. McEwen was of the same class, and Whittle, who seldom got the ball into the middle as he is in the habit of doing at Firhill, went from bad to worse after losing his temper in a tiff with Pursell five minutes or so before the interval. Flanked and backed by such poor stuff, little could be looked fro from Reid, whose work can be summed up in a wild drive or two, a splendid first-half shot high up at the left-hand corner which Hempsey got rid of with difficulty, and a plucky happy-go-lucky run and centre which culminated in Partick getting their goal when the second half was thirty-two minutes old. With Blair hanging on tenaciously, the Queen’s Cross ‘speed merchant’ forged his way down the left wing; at the psychological moment he slipped the ball into the middle, and Hempsey having gone from home, the rest was easy for John Bowie. Unfortunately for the Thistle, their success came too late to do them any good. Rangers were still a goal ahead, for seven minutes earlier Adams had ‘left it on,’ as the billiard players say, for McDiarmid to send one whizzing past Ferguson. Following Reid’ scoring effort things dragged a bit. Indeed, after Ferguson got rid of a teaser from Brown, it looked as if the match was finished; that it would end as it stood now – two to one for the Rangers. But no! We had reckoned without the Ibrox centre-forward, who, although fairly lively throughout, had obliged with few of his characteristic bursts. We had still three minutes to go, and he made the most of them. Off the ‘Dundonian’ went on his own and left Ferguson helpless, and just before the final whistle Cairns let him away, to repeat himself. Two glorious goals! It was a grand wind up for the bustling Sergeant and the Rangers. Dundee Sergeant can do more than bustle and shoot, however. He has a far better command of the ball than I thought when I saw him at Celtic Park. He can keep it very close, which later statement Willie Bulloch and Tom Adams will doubtless agree with. I thought Cairns was the star Ibrox forward. Tommy, who never spared himself and got the best out of McDiarmid, had ‘hard lines,’ if I may use the expression, with a first-half low ball, which, Ferguson beaten to the world, caught the base of an upright. McDiarmid confirmed my earlier estimate of his abilities – it is a long time now since I stated in these columns that outside left was his true position. He has a grand left-foot – he can centre the ball; he can shoot it. Brainy Bowie was less in the limelight than in several matches earlier in the season – still, James splayed a quietly effective game. He practically spoon-fed Archibald, and ‘the Fifer,’ who is evidently one of those young chaps not beyond taking a word of advice, responded splendidly. His crosses were things of beauty and danger. I have written down Cairns as the Number one man in the attack, Gordon I place above all other Rangers fore or aft. If the International half-back was not quite at his very best, he came very near to it, and everybody knows what that means. To my way of thinking ‘James E’ has dome more than one main’s share towards bringing the Cup to Ibrox. He steadied the team at Celtic Park, nothing seemed too difficult for him in the final. Dixon was as difficult to get round as usual, and Pursell mastered the Firhill right-wing pair. I cannot recall seeing Peter give a better display in the half-back line. Manderson and Blair, who enjoyed a bean-feast by comparison with Adams and Bulloch, were safe defenders, and as at Celtic Park in the semi-final, Hempsey enjoyed himself watching the others. He had a quiet afternoon
