W. Groves.
It was in the final tie for the Scottish Challenge Cup between the Hibernian and Dumbarton in 1887, which the crack Edinburgh team won by two goals to one, that brought Mr. Groves into special notice, and it may be, for aught I know, caused him to be carried off by the Celtic later on. Like a good many other players, he varies a bit in his style. Some days he is easily tackled; while at others not a single back or half-back on the field has a chance with him, and it must be said of him that he is one of the neatest dribblers of the day. He played against Wales in 1888.
J. Coleman.
Among the forward division of the Celtic, Mr. Coleman was a decided acquisition, and during that same season scored a lot of goals for the new Irish combination, which came to the front with something like the rapidity of "Jonah's gourd." A beautiful dribbler and runner, he made several grand spurts towards the 3rd L.R.V. goal, but had a weakness for keeping the ball too long, and was often tackled by the sure feet of Rae and Thomson. In speed and general play he reminded me very much of Mr. William Miller (3rd L.R.V.), an International against England as far back as 1876.
T. Maley.
When the whole of the Celts were at their best, and this happened pretty often last season in their Challenge Cup ties, Mr. T. Maley generally rose to the occasion, and led his team brilliantly. His steady-going style is much liked, not only by his colleagues, but spectators, and it is quite a rare thing to see him grassed by an opponent. When approaching the goal with the ball, he is like the priest who had a "wonderful way wid him"—slipping through the backs in a manner that is sure to make the goalkeeper gnash his teeth, and wish Maley was far enough away.
V.—THE PIONEERS OF ASSOCIATION FOOTBALL IN SCOTLAND;
OR,
"THE CONQUEROR'S FOOTBALL BOOTS."
My football boots are getting what might be called shabby genteel now, and no wonder. If they could speak they would tell you many a strange episode in the life of an Association football player, and how he kept his place in a leading club for nearly a dozen years. They have been old and dear friends, those well-worn boots, and although now somewhat curled up at the toes, have kicked many a good goal out of a hot and exciting scrummage in front of an opponent's upright posts, and even in an International tussle; but now that they, like myself, have retired from active duty, and may reasonably be supposed not to be encumbered with existing prejudices, which in the nature of things might more or less interfere with expressing an honest opinion about the Association football player of the past or his colleagues and successors, I will introduce them to you, and in figurative language allow them to tell their own unvarnished tale. My last advice, however, to you, my old friends, before leaving you to the tender mercies of a scribbler, is not to answer all the questions he thinks proper to put. Please don't tell him what you heard or saw after leaving the football field clinging to my sole and instep, of my love intrigues, my stolen interviews with blue-eyed Annie, and when she jilted me and got married to Charlie Quilter, who played "left wing" in the Flying Blues. Charlie must have regretted what he did more than once.
The Blues used to play us a couple of games in the year, and not long before Charlie got married he was, as a matter of course, one of their eleven. On that occasion I felt nettled to think that a big, broosy-faced, lisping fellow like Charlie should have "put my eye out," and could not resist the temptation of frequently crossing to his side during the game, and "going" for him. Oh! how my old companions, my boots, behaved on the occasion—the very laces almost burst with indignation; but Quilter, poor soul, never gave a winch, and bore it with becoming fortitude. He has now, like myself, got settled in life (I am a confirmed bachelor), and we are still the best of friends, for that "blue-eyed Annie loved him, too," was one of those things I could never forget. It is too bad, however, in me to block the way with this dissertation, and not allow Mr. Boots to begin. I shall leave the rest to him with confidence.