VII. – THE GREAT INTERNATIONAL;
OR,
NED DUNCAN'S DREAM
Scotland v. America, 1901
While on holidays, enjoying myself at a quiet and beautiful sea-side village on the shores of the Firth of Clyde, I received a note from a friend reminding me that an old football chum was still on the sick list, and making little or no progress towards recovery. In fact, his life, which had recently been enfeebled by an incurable malady, was slowly but surely drawing to a close. Last time I saw him he referred to the fact that he had some MS. which he wished Mr. John M'Dowall, his successor in the secretaryship of the S.F.A., and myself, to read over, and when this came into my mind I resolved to repair to Glasgow at once, ere it might be too late.
It was just as well that I did, for poor Ned Duncan was fast sinking when I got permission from his widowed mother to visit the bedside. Ned, I may mention, was one of the most enthusiastic players of his day that ever kicked a ball, but was obliged to give up practice in consequence of the unfortunate circumstances I have just mentioned, and of late had only been a spectator at the leading games. He received me that evening with a kind smile of recognition, and his pale face beckoned me to come near. I was certainly much touched with my old friend's appearance, and tried as much as possible to cheer him, but it was of no use.
He said he knew he was going to the silent land. The doctor, in fact, had told him he had only a few days to live, and he was glad I had come to bid him farewell, and take over some straggling notes he had compiled last summer about the football of the future. "Going home one evening," he continued, "after an International match, I fell into a deep sleep, and had a remarkable dream. I thought I saw a great match between Scotland and America. Real genuine players glided past, scrimmaging with each other for the ball; thousands of spectators, new and beautiful youthful faces, graced the area allotted to spectators; the hum of thousands of excited voices greeted my ears, and" – Here poor Ned's voice failed.
After a few minutes repose, the old player gasped, "But what need I tell you more. Here is the MS., and make what use of it you like."
My dear old friend is now under the turf he loved so well to play on when in the zenith of his fame.
Having eventually opened the packet, the first sentence which met my eyes was "Ned Duncan's Dream; or, The Great International of 1901."
I will, therefore, leave poor Ned to tell his own tale, and what he saw in his vision, which at any rate has the merit of originality about it. As more extraordinary dreams have come to pass, there is no saying what the beginning of the twentieth century may bring forth, for International football matches with Australia, America, and Canada have been talked of, and some of them even played, during the past year or two, and may become accomplished facts.
I must, however, return to the MS., which reads after the following style: —
"It was in April, 1901, on a Saturday afternoon, that the Yankees came to Scotland to play a match with our crack Eleven. The Universal Postal Service, which scattered letters all over the world at the rate of one half-penny per ounce, conveyed a formal challenge from the Americans to Scotland that the Yankees would be delighted to meet an eleven of that country in an even game of football. The New World men of course meant business, and our secretary, who was a capital fellow, much liked by the Scottish Football Association for his kind and obliging disposition, was instructed to accept the challenge and welcome the strangers to Glasgow.
"Previous to the time I speak of, the Americans had beaten the Australians and Canadians, and were considered by their own friends invincible even to the extent of a couple of goals. The Canadians, by the aid of the Electric Express Line's fast steamers, had been able to leave Montreal in the morning and return in the evening from New York, defeated but not disgraced. The Australians were a little longer on the way, as the improved appliances for driving ships had not yet attained that perfection there which had been shown in most of the ports and rivers of the British Isles. They were experimenting, however, and some good in that direction was looked for daily, and a new Express Company floated. The Americans had also beaten the Englishmen the previous year at New York, and, as their own newspapers had it, 'came over to crow in the Land o' Cakes.' The great shipping trade of the Clyde ere this was, so to speak, causing a new order of things to arise all over the world. Large and beautifully-built steel and bronze vessels left the Clyde every day for all parts of the earth.
"They had annihilated space and bridged the Atlantic in earnest, and the 'electrics' (once called steamers) could go from Glasgow to New York in little over twenty-four hours. Yes. 'Daily to New York, Montreal, California, and New Mexico. Splendid accommodation for first-class passengers: 120 knots per hour, and no vibration.' So read the advertisement in the leading Glasgow newspapers. Why! what did it all mean? One hundred knots per hour – 3000 in twenty-four hours! To New York in a day! I had certainly heard of the swallow taking an early breakfast at the uttermost part of England and picking up a late dinner on the shores of Africa, all in one day; but 120 knots an hour with an 'electric,' – it was just enough for flesh and blood to comprehend at once.
"'Well,' said a friend of mine with some experience in the marine engineering line, 'I have long thought on electricity as the great motive power of the future, provided it could be properly stored, and now you see what it has come to.'
"In fact, our coal supply – one of the sources of Britain's greatness – was getting exhausted, and electrical appliances had become an absolute necessity. The strain could no longer be borne of one huge vessel consuming 500 tons of coal in twenty-four hours, and those blessed electrics were not introduced a moment too soon.
"The learned men of France, who had long been working earnestly to solve the problem of electric economy, were beaten in the race, and a perfect system of stored electricity introduced and successfully applied to the propulsion of ships, patented by Professor Scotland Thomson, nephew of the late Sir William Thomson, of blessed memory.
"Lots of other remarkable events had been occurring in our history, but none so marked as the introduction of the 'electrics.' The people of Scotland had very nearly lost their individuality. Old Caledonia was to be simply a name. Englishmen invaded Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dundee, and even Ultima Thule, and overran the country with their ideas of social life. They made slow progress at first, but came in hordes, and the invasion was irresistible. They, of course, introduced all their newfangled ideas about games and pastimes, and compelled us to submit.
"Parliament had got so mixed up and thoroughly disgusted with the question of Irish Home Rule, which cropped up every session, that in an evil mood it had threatened puir all Scotland with assimilation of the Law of Jurisprudence, but failed. King Albert the First, however, had, out of respect to the great city of Glasgow – the Second City in the Empire – created his third son Duke of Glasgow, for you must know the House of Peers was still extant, but greatly reformed and limited in power. It could only veto a law passed by the Commons once, and there was no more about the matter.
"The match, you may be sure, was the general topic of conversation all over Scotland several weeks before it came off, and on the Friday evening, when the Americans arrived and put up at the Express Hotel, Glasgow, the excitement was great. The preparations and arrangements for the struggle were on a grand scale, and good weather alone was wanting to make it a success. That evening several of the Scotch team strolled into the billiard-room of the Express Hotel to welcome the young Americans, and had a chat with them about football in general, and the spread of the rules all over the world.
"The eventful day at last dawned, and a finer April morning could not have been desired. Play was announced to begin at 3.30 p.m., and long before that time Bruce Park, Cathcart Road, was half-filled with spectators, and presented a fine sight.
"The crowd around the field was certainly the most remarkable that had ever gathered together in Glasgow. As the game was no ordinary one, they flocked from all quarters. Most of the towns in Scotland supplied their quota to swell the multitude, and as railway travelling was cheap and convenient now compared to the original football days of the Queen's Park, Clydesdale, Vale of Leven, Rangers, Dumbarton, Granville, 3rd Lanark Volunteers, Partick, Clyde, Alexandra Athletic (of which poor Duncan was hon. secy.), and a host of other clubs, a two-hundred-mile journey, which was easily accomplished in an hour, was considered next to nothing. They were there – young men and maidens from London, Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Blackburn, Darwen, Bolton, and Sheffield – all bent on making a day of it. The road to Bruce Park, indeed, was a sight to see, despite the fact that the Cathcart Railway carried its thousands that afternoon to the south-side. There were not a few buxom country girls in the crowd, enticed thither by no great love of the game – which, of course, they did not understand – but by their sweethearts, just to let the young persons of the place see that they had lads as well as their neighbours. There was one winsome lassie among them, however, who would have done credit to Burns' incomparable 'Queen o' the Glen.'
"Emma was the only sister of a young farmer in the district. It is a mistaken notion to suppose that farmers in Scotland are by far too plodding a class to indulge themselves in anything savouring of English games and pastimes, particularly football, but this is a mistake. I know several farmers in the country who love the dribbling game dearly, and do their best to promote its interests in the way of supplying ground to not a few young clubs dotted over the country. In fact, Emma was the beauty of the whole parish, and all the young men for miles around were well aware of it. No one could deny it, and even the most unreasonable of fellows, Charley M'Gowan, the schoolmaster, and Alfred Walker, the lawyer's clerk, were forced to acknowledge it.
"'Talk about Sydney's heavenly Geraldine,' said young M'Gowan to me one afternoon on the road to practice, 'she beats her hollow.' M'Gowan, however, was a bit of a cynic, and Emma soon cast him off for Walker. He was a fine singer, and in after years, when he became a confirmed bachelor, delighted to sing songs about the inconstancy of the fair sex. He used to hum out Gœthe's 'Vanatos,' and more particularly that verse with reference to the fickle fair ones, which ran
"'I set my heart upon woman next —
Hurrah!
For her sweet sake was oft perplexed;
But ah!
The false one looked for a daintier lot —
The constant one wearied me out and out —
The best was not easily got.'
The Yankees, however, had a high opinion of our feminine beauty, and the impressions made on the gallant youths that Saturday afternoon were of the most favourable order. The Romans, in fact, were not more captivated with the beauty of the Sabean maidens than were the young Americans with the lovely Scottish girls who gave them such a hearty reception at Bruce Park in April, 1901.
"Walt Vanderbilt, their captain, was a fine-looking young fellow, about 25 years of age. Ere this the young Americans had completely discarded whiskers, and Walt formed no exception to the rule, with his closely-shaven cheeks and well-formed moustache. Good work in the field in the way of practice had made Walt's form show complete development, and I am inclined to think that a finer specimen of a football player never toed a ball. The goalkeeper of the team, too, young Lincoln, was rather a nice-looking fellow, nearly six feet high, and well-proportioned, with eyes sparkling with humour, but he lacked the fine open countenance of his captain.
"The other members of the team were much of the ordinary type of humanity, just like our average football club men, with any amount of nerve and energy. If they felt excited at the magnitude of the work they had in hand they concealed it well, and looked as if they were merely entering the field to do a little practice. They wore the sign of the American eagle, dotted over with the emblematical stars and stripes. Our fellows had also an imposing appearance, with the lion-rampant on their jerseys, and, although looking rather douce and uncertain about the game, determination was depicted on every face.
"The names of the gentlemen who entered the field were as under: —
"Scotland.– F. Wallace (South-Side Swifts), goalkeeper; T. Glen (Queen's Park), D. Smollet (Vale of Leven), backs; W. M'Millan (Dumbarton), F. M'Neil (Rangers), half-backs; K. M'Geake (Pollokshields Athletic), P. Livingstone (Kilmarnock), K. Watt (Edinburgh Rovers), T. Stewart (Volunteer A.C.), T. D. Coats (Paisley Combination), and G. F. Turnbull (Clyde), forwards.
"America.– W. R. C. Lincoln (New York Caledonian), goalkeeper; V. H. Grant (Texas Rovers), W. C. Vanderbilt (Hamilton State Swifts), backs; J. H. Armstrong (Chicago Association), D. Steel (Nebraska Electric), half-backs; D. C. Bramey (Victoria Boys), R. S. Chandler (Utah Gentiles), P. Whitehouse (Newhaven), J. S. Bryan (Alaska Pilgrims), W. D. Bangle (San Francisco Racers), and T. Lawrence (Washington House), forwards.
"Umpires.– J. W. Marindin (South Australia), and D. Y. Jones (Canadian Association). Referee.– W. H. Littleton (English Association).
"Before the game began, the Yankees offered to bet level money, and some of their red-hot plungers even went the length of two to one on their chances; but they were promptly told that the days of betting and wagering at football matches, cricket, horse-racing, and all genuine sport, were now numbered with the past in the United Kingdom.
"Gentlemen, in fact, who loved and enjoyed sport for its own sake, and for that part of it, ladies too, had voted betting 'low and unmanly,' and even degrading, and as Parliament had been repeatedly petitioned on the subject, a bill was almost unanimously passed in the dying year of the nineteenth century abolishing betting.
"The Loyal Irish Party (late Home Rulers), and the Rado-Toro Democratic Party (led by Lord Randy Chapel-Mountain), whose hair was beginning to get silvery-grey, and his long moustache to match, did not even oppose the bill, and it passed. Never did a legislative enactment work such improvement among the masses as this bill. It completely banished all needy souls and black-legs from the arena of honest sport, and left the field to those who came out of an afternoon and evening to enjoy themselves in an honest way.
"The coarse language, too, of which our forefathers justly complained twenty years ago, had almost disappeared, whether through the effects of the School Board, I would not like to say, but one could now take sweetheart or wife to enjoy themselves, provided always, of course, the weather was at all suitable.
"As for professional football players, no such thing had been heard of for years. They certainly died hard, but eventually no club would have anything to do with them.
"'What is that?' 'Oh, it's the bell to begin.'
"Well, the game did begin in earnest, immediately after a fair lady had thrown out the leather ball from the Grand Stand at the right-hand side of the field. There was no tossing for choice of ends, for a new rule had been just added to the revised code enacting in a most chivalrous way that strangers or visitors be allowed to select the side of the ground they preferred to play on for the first half-hour – for you must know, my readers, the term now allowed for the game was one hour, and that when the ball was kicked into touch, there was no throwing back into play with the hands, but it was kicked from the touch-line straight out before play was again resumed.
"For some time the forwards kept the leather close to themselves, and the Yankees on the left wing, by a fine piece of manœuvring, were successful in getting it away, amid tremendous cheering. Chandler, who was one of the fastest sprinters in the world, and had beaten the record in San Francisco in the fall of last year, got through his men in brilliant form, and came down on the goalkeeper like 'winkum.' Just as he was poising himself, however, for a final shot, M'Neil deliberately crossed the field from the opposite side, and after dodging about the young American, rushed in and took the leather away, and keeping it between his feet for a couple of seconds, kicked it clear of the Scotch goal. A good deal of heading afterwards occurred near the home goal – the ball getting close on the lines several times, and even passing them. Many considered before the game began that the Americans would never have a 'look in' at all, and great was their dismay when they actually beheld their champions hotly pressed on their own ground, and look like losing the day. With a brilliant charge the Yankee forwards crowded round the Scotch sticks like a hive of bees on a June morning, and a straight shot from the foot of D. Steel, who rushed in from his place at half-back, caused the ball to glide past the Scotch goalkeeper like a rocket.
"This was the signal for tremendous excitement. Crowds of partisans and friends who had come over with the strangers, and many enthusiastic lovers of the game and fair play, raised a loud cheer, again and again renewed, at this piece of grand play on the part of the Yankees. The intensely interested Scotchmen, however, while they certainly admired the pluck and fine play of the visitors, and cheered in a mild kind of a way, even though an enemy wrung it from them, kept very quiet, and not a few white faces might have been seen about the wire fence which kept spectators and players apart on Bruce Park on that memorable day. They, however, kept their own counsel, and quaintly said to the Yankees who chaffed them on the point, that howling was a very good thing in a way, but it should not be indulged in till people were out of the wood.
"The teams then faced each other in midfield, and the ball had no sooner left the Scotch captain's foot than it was taken away, and dribbled down the centre by Bryan, Whitehouse, and Lawrence, and when half-time was called the latter was just finishing a good shy, which sent the ball over the bar. According to the new rules a quarter of an hour was allowed as an interval, and during that time speculation ran high as to what was destined to be the final issue.
"To indulge for a moment at the idea of the Americans beating the Scotch on their own ground in the great International was a sore point for the bulk of the spectators with Scotch faces, but they said very little. They had a secret hope that their champions would eventually pull off the game, even though they had a goal to make up, and only half-an-hour to do it. They had, it was remembered with pride and satisfaction, pulled through many a doubtful match before, and Scotchmen, it was well known, were not easily beaten.
"The young lady again threw up the ball, and Tam Glen, getting a good hold of it at his left foot, made one of the finest fly-kicks ever seen in a match, and the forwards on the Scotch side following well up, completely puzzled the Yankee backs and half-backs by their brilliant passing. Before you could say Jack Robinson, M'Geake shied for the American goal, and the ball knocked off the cap of the goalkeeper, and, hitting the bar, bounded back into the field of play. A hard and exciting scrimmage followed, and amid breathless excitement the Yankees cleared their goal. Five minutes of very even play followed, and then the Scotchmen set their teeth and made a desperate effort for victory.
"Only ten minutes of the game now remained to the good, and there was, you may be sure, no time to lose. One goal behind, and at the great International, too! It would never do to allow America to whip creation, even at football! One final effort; no, two final efforts, and it was done.
"The Scotch captain was seen to whisper something to his team, and in a few minutes the grandest run which was probably ever witnessed since football became a scientific sport in the world, was started, and, before the American backs, half-backs, and goalkeeper could realise their position, the Scotchmen bore down on the visitors' goal, and literally dribbled the ball clean through. This was, you may be sure, the signal for an outburst of cheering, which must have been heard over the half of the big city of Glasgow, which now contained over a million of inhabitants.
"The game, however, was not yet won – it was only a tie – and when the representatives of Brother Jonathan again started the ball only four minutes remained, but it proved a bad four minutes for the representatives of the stars and stripes. Another run, backed up by a shooter from the left foot of Turnbull, settled the great International for that year at anyrate. Those who had hitherto viewed the game in moody silence began to come out of their shells (talking piscatorially) and join in the universal huzzah.
"The Yanks were now fairly cowed, and when another grand piece of play by Stewart, backed up at the proper moment by Watt, put a third goal to the credit of the Scotchmen, the visitors, in the most gentlemanly way, heartily joined in the cheering for the victors. When the referee's whistle was sounded, the Scotchmen were declared the winners of a hard-fought field by 3 goals to 1. The crowd completely besieged the pavilion at Bruce Park at the close, and cheered lustily as the Scotch champions made their way up the steps. Nor were the vanquished Americans forgotten. They came in for a round of hearty cheers for their pluck.
"There was a dinner given to the distinguished strangers in the evening, and the usual complimentary toasts proposed and duly acknowledged; but, as I was not present, I am unable to say who spoke best and gave the most enjoyable song.
"At anyrate, a happy evening was passed, and, after spending a day in Glasgow, the Yankees sailed on the following Monday morning for New York, where they duly arrived without any mishap, after the fastest passage on record, having covered the distance from Greenock to Sandy Hook in twenty-three hours fifty-nine and three-quarter minutes."
Such is "Ned Duncan's Dream; or, the Great International."