Like Dogberry's idea of certain kinds of novel writing, both Association and Rugby Football seem to come to the Scotchmen by nature. My readers can, perhaps, easily remember the clever jeu d'esprit on the antiquity of the Gaelic tongue which appeared several years ago advocating the claims of that race as lisping the first "speech" heard in Eden in a manner that must have stirred the blood of Professor Blackie. As the history of Association Football, with which I have only to deal under the present circumstances, is so well-known and a thing of yesterday, its origin, like that of the Gaelic language, is not shrouded in mystery, but actually known (or should be known) to all who take an interest in the game. In my previous article, I tried to trace the origin of football in its rudest form as played by our forefathers, when goal-posts and bars, to say nothing of corner-flags, were unknown. Football now, however, has been reduced to something like a scientific game, and to the credit of England be it said, the Association Rules there first saw the light. Scotch players in the Western District soon emulated their Southern brethren, and from the Parent Club, which had a humble and unassuming origin on the recreation ground at Queen's Park, sprang hundreds of clubs, spreading over the length and breadth of the land with remarkable rapidity. The wave soon rolled all over Glasgow and suburbs, submerged the whole country, and eventually invaded the Heart of Midlothian itself, where the Rugby code had hitherto reigned supreme. The schoolboys who played cricket and rounders in the summertime came out on a wintry afternoon to see their seniors engaged in Association football, and soon felt the desire creep over them to be members of a club containing lads like themselves. The young men engaged in the city all day thought on the health-imparting exercise it afforded, and had the necessary funds raised to form a club. The artisans, too, from the dusky foundry, the engineer shop, and the factory, soon began to dribble about. The young ones, and even the seniors themselves, had many a collision with mother earth ere they could rely on keeping their pins with any degree of accuracy, and it was rare fun to see a bearded man turning a somersault as he missed the ball in trying to make a big kick. Football is easily acquired in so far as the rudimentary part is concerned, but a great deal of probation is required to convert one into a crack player. Among those who now practice football, and their name is legion, the superior players can be numbered in (to give it a wide scope) hundreds. In fact, to be able to master all the details requisite to win a first-class match, one has to be capable of dribbling, middling, heading, and passing in a way that would do credit to solving a complicated problem in Euclid. It is all very well to talk about brute force and lasting power, but unless these are accompanied by scientific application, they are worth little, and cost much. "The race is not always to the swift," says the old proverb. In at least eight cases out of ten, the match is to the scientific and careful, but of this more anon. There is one thing that can be said about football which in the nature of things must recommend it to all lovers of out-door exercise. Of late years bicycling has obtained a great deal of popularity all over the three kingdoms, both for its usefulness as a speedy means of conveyance, and exercise to the limbs, but that it has its drawbacks has just been made apparent by undisputed medical authority. "The bicycle back," the effect of hard work on the "iron horse," is beginning to appear on the handsome young man who thinks nothing of doing his 50 miles a day, and while walking occasionally with the young lady with the "Grecian bend," the contrast in his case is amusing. To say that there are no dangers of any kind attached to football would be making an assertion which I cannot substantiate, but these are comparatively few. All sports, of whatever kind, have the elements of danger attached to their pursuit, but, with great care, these can be reduced to a minimum. Although I have certainly never observed the round-shoulders of the bicyclist in the football player, I have not unfrequently seen the "football leg." That is a series of cuts about the shin bone, administered by a vicious opponent while (as it generally happens) playing a "cup tie," and last season they were more plentiful than ever. In fact, I heard from the lips of a member of one of the crack clubs that in not a few of the ties they retired from the field "greatly impressed with the unmistakable signs of muscular ability shown by their opponents." This means most undoubtedly hacking and tripping, under the guise of tackling, and if Association football is to go on and prosper such disgraceful acts of tyranny on the football field must forever cease. These "accidents" can, of course, be avoided, and as there are distinct rules forbidding them, clubs would do well to see that these are rigidly enforced.
III.—A "SWEEP FOR THE CUP;"
OR,
HOW PATE BROWN KEPT HIS ENGAGEMENT.
"What do you say, old fellow, about a 'Sweep for the Cup.' Why, a 'sov.' is nothing to the like of you, and there will be such fun at the lifting." This was said to me one morning about nine, just as I was preparing to get my shaving utensils into working order before turning out to the warehouse. Pate Brown used to make fun of me about my scanty hirsute appendages, and many a time caused me to blush before sundry members of the Druids when he emphatically declared that I was one of those effeminate individuals who shaved, not because they had whiskers, but because they hadn't. This was in September, and a more open year for the respective chances of the clubs in the Cup had, perhaps, never come round.
I was unattached then. I was, in fact, neither a member of the Druids nor the Nomads, but simply a friend of both, and an enthusiastic admirer of the game. My big brother Angus, it is true, was one of the best men in the Conquerors, and he and I sometimes had animated discussions about the respective merits of the clubs. "Why, Jack, this is only September, it will be more sensible for us to postpone the affair till after the preliminary ties. A lot of chaps to whom I have spoken consider it next to nonsense to draw the 'sweep' so soon."
After a great deal of talking and another meeting, it was agreed to go right ahead with the "sweep," and accordingly the necessary arrangements were duly made, and subscribers' names taken, as well as their cash.
The warehouse of Ball & Field was the largest in the whole city. Their trade connection extended to every known country on the face of the globe. There was a decided charm about the way in which the firm did business, and the kindly, not to say considerate manner, in which they treated employés, who really deserved it. The two leading members of the firm, in fact, were not insignificant prototypes of Dickens' Cheeryble Brothers (with the exception that they were both married). I verily believe that in an hour's notice a couple of excellent teams could have been picked from the house to make a decent match of it anywhere.
The senior himself was an enthusiastic admirer of the game, and one way or another did much to encourage it by his presence on the field at all the big matches, and if any of the lads, such as myself, Brown, Rose, Wilson, or M'Nab wanted away to play in a big affair, a hint reaching the governor's ears to that effect was amply sufficient. The manager, however, was of a different sort, he hated football like poison. He even relegated the grand game to a pastime suitable for pure and unadulterated lunatics, those, as he put it, "who were too daft to get into Gartnavel." Fancy that! Woe betide the unfortunate half-back or forward, who in a weak moment relied on the magnanimity of "Sour Plums," as he was called, to let him off to a match, without first consulting the governor himself. Sometimes M'Nab forgot to do so, and as his club were frequently in great straits to get him to play, he had to steep his brains to think on a strategic movement to get free, and succeeded; but sometimes with the aid of a "crammer."
Brown, for reasons best known to himself, but which will duly come out as my story advances, was very anxious to be at the "draw," and accordingly duly appeared at the Marie Stuart Hall, Crosshill. There were a lot of pale faces in the room when Pate drew the Queen's Park, Dick Wallace the "Vale," Bill Weldon, Dumbarton, and Sandy M'Bean the Rangers. A rosy-cheeked, country-looking lad belonging to the Q.P. drew Cowlairs, and a general titter ran through the august assembly when that same lad remarked, "he was quite satisfied with his draw, the other crack clubs notwithstanding." Tom Vincent got Kilmarnock Athletic, Alf. Grant the Clyde, Blower Fleming drew the Heart of Midlothian, and Bill Fairfield the Hibernian. I was unlucky enough to secure one of the many insignificant clubs who never survived the first round, and so my "sov." was a dead letter.
The entire "sweep" came to a fine round sum, as the subscribers included a good many of the rank and file of football enthusiasts, and even two "football-daft" members of the upper strata of the Glasgow Police Force, and three of the Fire Brigade, went the length of taking a couple of tickets. There was also Luke Wood, the representative of the "Kick-off," who knew a thing or two about the game. He was in for a pair of tickets, too, and drew the Invincible and Morning Star. He was thoroughly disgusted at the prospect (more particularly as he had been one of the leading hands in getting up the "sweep"); but, as the Yankees say, he gradually "cooled himself down," and got thoroughly reconciled to his loss.