The Scotsman’s match report says this was not the most memorable derby, which accounts for my failure to remember attending it. Attended I must have, however, as I have the programme to prove it. Continue reading
Another one of those perplexing match programmes pulled out of the archive which asserted that I was present at a game which I couldn’t remember. After reviewing the highlights on YouTube it all comes flooding back to me: the false hope of Latapy’s brilliant opener, the almost immediate riposte by Aberdeen as Hibs sat back on their unwarranted laurels, precipitating the dazed collapse which ushered in Andy Dow’s admittedly impressive winner just four minutes later. Continue reading
I had come north for a week to help out at home while my dad recovered from heart surgery. I took a few hours off on this bitterly cold Saturday to travel through to the terminal shitehole of Brockville. As I observed in an earlier post, the antedeluvian home of Falkirk had the kind of quality that archaeologists value in prehistoric middens.
The sleet forced the hardy Hibs contingent of the 6,000 crowd up against the rickety back wall of the uncovered terracing to watch the team battle valiantly against a workmanlike Falkirk team and a pitch that looked like the archaeologists had already been over it. Continue reading
There were times during the summer when many must have doubted that Hibs would even be around to fulfill this fixture. Whether it was thanksgiving for their deliverance from the clutches of Mercer, or just the usual early season optimism, a sizeable Hibs support made the journey north for this first league match of the new campaign.
Obviously the euphoria of the club’s reprieve from extinction had no effect on the team’s performance. To be fair Aberdeen were still a very good side, as demonstrated by the programme cover which shows Scott Booth and Graham Watson brandishing the League and Scottish Cups. They had also finished runners up to Rangers in the league and were to do so again this term, losing out only on the last day of the season in a championship decider at Ibrox. Continue reading
Hibs had signed Murdo McLeod as player-coach from Borrussia Dortmund two weeks before this game and he had obviously brought some strength to the side straight away, judging by the improved result from the game at Pittodrie. Other changes may have had an effect too. Gone were Neil Cooper and Gareth Evans, Calum Milne was deputising for Graham Mitchell and Dave Farrell had returned to the reserves. Paul Wright partnered Keith Houchen up front and registered one of his all too rare goals for Hibs. Brian Hamilton had also re-established himself in the midfield. More of those last two below… Continue reading
I only know the score from this match from looking it up. St Johnstone were newly promoted to the Premier league for the first time since 1984 and were making the most of it, riding high in fourth place, three points ahead of Celtic. Managed by Alex Totten and Bert Paton, the Saints were short on household names – Sergei Baltacha and future Jambo Allan Moore being the exceptions.
With only nine goals from 17 starts it was obvious where Hibs’ problems lay. A round up of recent press comments in the programme rubbed it in. ‘It is a painful truism in football that no goals means no victories. The Edinburgh team have perfected this particular art,’ observed The Observer. The Sunday Times added: ‘One is tempted to suggest they should stick to what they are best at – preventing the opposition from scoring.’ Still hadn’t perfected that particular art though…
Pat McGinlay tries not to look too embarrassed to be picking up Augustus Barnett’s Player of the Month treat of a bottle of Asti Spumante. Just reward for his contribution to our ‘sparkling’ record of three draws and one defeat during November. Do we detect a hint of jealousy in Brian Hamilton’s gaze however? If looks could kill he would have been locked up years ago.
Elsewhere, Micky Weir informed us that he got his hair cut in Hayes at Cannonmills by Karen, his most recent clothing purchase was a pair of McKenzie jeans from Ricci, and that the last record he bought was ‘Fear of the Dark Planet’ by Public Enemy. Respec’ wee man.
1955 and all that
On a more serious note the programme also recalled the 1954/55 season. Not a good one for Hibs as it turned out. Not only did we lose 1-5 to Hearts at Tynecastle in the league and 0-5 to them in the Cup, but Bobby Johnstone left for Manchester City, thus breaking up the Famous Five. Johnstone went on to become the first and so far only player to score in two successive FA Cup finals.
I can’t remember anything about this game, and have only deduced from other records that it finished 0-0. Hibs had beaten Rangers 2-0 in the first game at Easter Road in August, and would even beat them 2-0 at Ibrox in March, but this one stirs no memories at all. If anyone else has any, please let me know.
Hibs were in the midst of one of their ‘no goals please, we’re Hibees’ phases, which had lasted for three games since the 3-2 win over Dundee at the end of November. Prior to that they had also gone seven games with only a solitary Archibald goal in a draw with Hearts. So nobody was in much of a mood to score here.
Dave Fellinger was getting the occasional game for Hibs at this time, and Paul Kane had made the number 2 shirt his own. Or rather Alex Miller had made him wear it, and none of us were any the wiser. Rangers had just signed Nigel Spackman. Hibs were third bottom of the Premier League.
Fortunately the programme provides some entertainment. The lush full colour advertising included a seductive promotional for The Electric Beach solarium on Lothian Road. And who better to get his kit off and demonstrate its facilities than the already swarthy Joe Tortolano! Ladeeez, click on the pic and scan that tan….
Where are they now?
Festive spirit, says the programme. So, what, were all these kids tanked up or something? Perhaps it’s their parents we need to blame. Whatever, if anyone knows of the subsequent dress habits of Gavin, Brendan or Brian, please share them with us.
So there you all are, surfing away on your work PC, cursing its crappy processing speeds and yearning for your own turbocharged enhanced-graphics gaming beast at home. Consider for a moment the state of personal computing in 1989. 33MHz clock speed. Yeeeee-hah!