Hark The Herald ...

The following article by Jack McLean was published in the Glasgow Herald of 24 December 1990 and records a trip he made to Tinto Park with Pollok entitled-Wrong climate all round for the Juniors. Even two fans had to turn out for the once big Bens side- in which the Bens defence appear to be a bit too generous with their gifts that year. The article was taken from the Herald archive on http://www.heraldscotland.com/ which allows you to view articles back to 1989 online.




'THE junior game was once a major force in football. It was a long time ago.
There was a time when you looked up the histories of the great players and discovered that they had started with famous junior teams. That was long ago.
Today the big clubs -- and even the wee ones -- collect their talents from boys' clubs. In many ways this system has not done the Scottish scene that much good.
The junior game used to be a sort of apprenticeship. Now it is largely a graveyard for failed players, and for some young chaps too. The junior boys have not profited from this tendency. Neither has football. That's today's sermon over.
Notwithstanding the above, there is a commitment to playing football at junior level which many a more in the senior game would challenge.
On Saturday there was a dreary, hard-grafting match at Ibrox betwixt Rangers and Aberdeen. It was a day of such bad weather you could hardly expect anything else. Not for the first time have I wondered why we play our national game in such conditions, and there have been those of us who always have believed that the Beautiful Game should be a summer sport. Certainly, the grim climactic conditions in which the fans expect Scottish football to operate cannot meet those requirements. The afficianados of junior football have few expectations, but one of them is grim weather.
Grim it was at Tinto Park, only minutes away from Ibrox where the premier-division leaders were battling it out. Benburb were as grim as the weather.
It could not ever have been easy for the Craigton side, for their season so far has not looked hopeful and they were playing against a Pollok side which has been so far unbeaten. Pollok, of course, are the big junior team and Benburb cannot match its support. Even then, it could not have helped that the Bens had to field five trialists against the club from Newlandsfield.
Suspensions and illness meant a team from Benburb which included a couple of lads who had gone to watch the match, and were commandeered on to the pitch.
And it showed. Four goals in the first half from a Pollok team which is experienced, as well as being well fuelled by the confidence and curious elegance of centre back Steff Barclay, put the Bens in their place. It was not helped by first-time trialist John Joyce having to go off after ten minutes with a broken nose, the result of an unfortunate collision for which the Pollok player can take no blame.
By half time, Pollok deserved their four-goal lead, Crichton scoring a hat trick, with O'Brien scoring the first, and I thought, rather a lucky goal.
Half-time in the social club saw the Bens' fans in good humour still. Had the other blue-shirted team just down the road found themselves four down at that point, there would have been mayhem. At Benburb, the lads took it philosophically.
Mind you they took it with a wee dram or two which is more than you can get at Ibrox. The stoicism of the supporters would put those of most senior clubs to shame. Not only that, they have a sensible attitude of ''well, it's only a game.'' And so it is.
There were few fans present, which is hardly surprising considering that the rain was teeming down, but all enjoyed the encounter. In the second half Pollok scored their fifth goal through substitute McGall, with Benburb taking a consolation score from Dailly, who had played well throughout the game, despite an appalling piece of petulance committed against Pollok keeper Cassidy: Mr Dailly will know what I mean by this recondite reference and damned lucky he was to be kept on the field.
But what makes these people, from players to officials to supporters, turn out to watch the little game in conditions in which Stalingrad would have surrendered? I spoke to the fans after the game in the rather dark public bar of the Benburb club. Some of them go to the juniors when the senior club of their choice is playing away; some have always supported their local teams; some have pals playing; but one thing is certain. It is a different class of idiot who supports junior football. Different from the Celts and Gers idiots. The junior followers are civilised idiots and it is a decent support who were pleasant to each other and to me. Or near enough.
Sadly, after talking to so many splendid chaps, and having had a good crack to go with it, I found myself trying to obtain a lift from the Pollok team bus going back to the South-side. I was drookit, tired, and suffering from the sort of uncommon cold you get at this time of year. Also, I had the certain knowledge that a taxi was impossible, and the bus a mile away. It is not like the junior game, but the bus churlishly refused to be a good Samiritan.
I spoke to the club later, and they were more than apologetic, but that doesn't help my sniffles this morning or my sense of aggrievement. If I had won a game so well, I'd have given a lift to Graeme Souness, or at least Saddam Hussein.
Ach, well, as they say in football -- happy Christmas.'