Fulton 82
Match Information
Attendance: 16,000
Referee: T Dougray (Barrhead)
Matchday: Saturday
Match Trivia
I am satisfied that St Mirren never had a better chance of beating the Rangers than in this game. They got the Ibrox team on one of their very worst days, and simply refused to avail themselves of a glorious opportunity. I fancy I hear someone say – ‘The Rangers once again had all the luck’. That is partly true. Fulton’s goal was a veritable gift from the gods – a ‘footrey’ goal I heard it called – but the Ibrox people would have been able to extract little comfort from it if the Paisley inside forwards had been worth their salt in the first half. Then they had the wind, and scoring chances were as plentiful as penny pies in a country town of a Saturday night. The Rangers backs were no great shakes, their Irish goalkeeper was anything but impressive – still, no tangible result. I have never rated George Elmore a first-class forward, but I have often eulogised him for his pluck and wholeheartedness. I cannot say he was the one or the other in this latest game. George simply lagged, superfluous on the well sanded pitch, and the same may be said of Kyle and Magner. An extra ounce or two of energy or a little ginger – if I might be allowed to use the word in a football connection - and St Mirren would have faced the freshening breeze with the confidence born of a comfortable lead. Twice each did Elmore and Magner fail ignominiously when beautifully placed, and once, with the exercise of a little care, Kyle might have brought about the discomfiture of John Glenn. Sowerby had no luck with a nice shot that banged against the base of a goalpost, not had Kyle with an exceptionally fine try. With the latter the Ibrox goalkeeper was hopelessly beaten, but, fortunately for him, the ball passed the right side of an upright - the outside – by a foot or so. The Rangers’ best scoring attempts in this half were a grand shot by Gordon, and two or three magnificent centres from Scott-Duncan, which were not made the most of. Reid burst through twice, and in each instance his almost similar express shots missed the desired haven by a yard or so. His first journey, the finish to which surprised me much, was an easy one; on the next trip a couple of tenacious Paisley defenders had to be shaken off. From the foregoing you will see that the ‘Light Blues’ were just as little lucky to cross over on level terms. Nor did fickle Dame Fortune desert them. The wind, which had been blowing diagonally across the field, veered round and blew almost directly into O’Hagan’s goal. Add to this a pitiless rain, and you have some little idea of what St Mirren had to face during the last forty-five minutes. Evidently expecting the bulk of the play would take place in St Mirren territory, hundreds of Rangers’ enthusiasts shifted their quarters to the pavilion end. One could almost imagine he heard them say, ‘I want to see the goals go on’. They were disappointed, but they saw much good goalkeeping. If young Willie O’Hagen does not hold the fort for Ireland in her National games, then the ‘distressful country’ mush have a phenomenon to place between the sticks. O’Hagan made one error of judgment - a vital one – for it robbed St Mirren of the point their defence had fought for so valiantly for 85 minutes. It must have been particularly galling for O’Hagan, who had got rid of, in magnificent fashion, all sorts and conditions of shots from Gordon, Fulton, Paterson, Logan, Brown, Reid and Bowie, to be beaten by perhaps the simplest one of the bunch. Fulton’s simple looking ball from 60 or 70 yards’ range was allowed by Willie to ‘stot’. That was his undoing. In bringing it down from the bar he put it about a foot or so over the goal line. That was all, but it sufficed to send the points to Ibrox. Bar this one mistake I have seldom seen a custodian do better. O’Hagan clutched high balls cleanly and cleverly, he threw himself at several elusive low ones in masterful fashion. What a difference between him and his countryman at the other end. I am told John Glenn had been playing splendidly in the reserve team. He may have been off colour on Friday and Saturday. At anyrate I can commend only for catching very smartly a late short sharp shot from Elmore – his first half clearances were of the namby-pamby order. Among the backs I liked none better than Callaghan. The Fauldhouse West-End is a sticker in the true sense of the word. He also kicks a very good ball. Tackling was Reid’s strong point – he did not get in his returns just as smartly as he might. The Peterhead man was fairly effective, however, and with his young partner made up a more dependable line than the Rangers’ pair. No fault could be found with Ormonde’s kicking but at times his tackling was of the juvenile order. I was not impressed by Fulton, even if he had three shots for goal, the last of which won the match. His tackling was only slightly better than that of his partner; his kicking was far too wild for my taste. Gordon was the best half-back afield. Brown played nicely, and Logan blustered about to his heart’s content. He was a power in defence. I pick Stevenson out as the superior Paisley intermediate player, merely because in addition to giving Duncan and Bowie something to do, he contrived very often to place the ball nicely forward to Kyle or Sowerby. Pearson, as a grafter, was unequalled, burden I have never seen do such good service for the Paisley Club. In an unconvincing Ibrox attack – but the entire team might be thus described – I preferred Scott-Duncan, many of whose centres were perfect. Bowie, although he sent several nice balls along the wing and up the centre, was not quite himself, and Reid did not get half enough to do. Stewart, on the left, was fifty percent behind Stewart I have seen operate in the other inside berth, and Paterson was very very moderate. In a word it was a poor left wing. I have already dealt with the Paisley inside forwards. What of Gray and Sowerby? Both did fairly, and I am certain would have done better had they been properly supported. Sowerby was much livelier than when I saw him last
