Scunnered by our own at Cala Homes showflat...

[1875]

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The Festival Cup match at Tynecastle on Saturday
turned out to be more of a hand-held sparkler in the
paw of a five year old, than a sky high rocket
befitting of Sunday's Festival Firework Display...

I toddled along to Tynecastle on Saturday, more from a
sense of nostalgia than any anticipation of total
football from either side. Hibernian were without nine
first choice starts and fielded a team bereft of any
real physical presence or SPL experience, whilst
Hearts fielded half a first team (the heavy half) and
hoped industrial football would win the day. And so it
came to pass.

The game saw a predictable script play itself out,
given our lack of aerial presence due to the
international jaunts of Colin Murdock and our lack of
physique right across the park. Stamp by name, Stamp
by nature, the Hearts' equivalent of...well, Fat Phil
Stamp...barged, bullied and battered his way through
proceedings - and right through Jamie McCluskey, in an
example of playground bullying to make Gripper Stebson
reform.

Jay Shields was also on the wrong end of the worst
tenant in history, however, the tenacious youngster
was not to be intimidated...exacting revenge on at
least one occasion that springs to mind.

It is quite remarkable that Stamp remained on the park
as long as he did.

It was not the bully-boy antics of the gravitationally
challenged one that won the day for our industrial
neighbours. More our lack of penetration and fire
power in the absence of Riordan, O'Connor and Co...and
our inability to defend crosses Christopher Lee
wouldn't run from. Admittedly, the presence of the
first choice defence may well have resulted in a
similar breach of our goals...but we had NO chance in
an aerial bombardment without Murdock. Route one
football, designed to make the most of that other
heavy weight's "assets", saw an unchallenged headed
goal for Mark de Vries with his first touch of the
ball.

The bookies wouldn't take money on it, such was the
inevitability.

The sun shone unforgivingly on a young Hibees side,
who continued to battle but who were punished from set
pieces. Again, there was no surprise in this. However,
positives were to be taken from the encounter in the
shape of a full ninety minutes for club captain, Ian
Murray; a fitter looking David Murphy getting more
miles on the clock; the spirited, ebulient
performances of Shields and McCluskey. The former is
certain to go on to become a big hero with the Hibees
faithful, such is his bottle, energy and committment.

Sadly, the result aside, there was an unsavoury
incident towards the end of the match that made me
ashamed to be a Hibee. Having told the bairn, earlier
in proceedings when it looked like defeat was on the
cards, that he should hold his head up and remember
that whilst the Jambos might leave the ground with the
Festival Cup...he would still be leaving the stadium a
Hibby (something we should never look to trade for
tawdry pieces of silver, something we should always
remember is priceless - a gift), I felt the searing
anger and shame resulting from blatant racism right
behind me.

As Hearts defended a corner in front of us, not long
after Dobbie had netted a penalty, a foul mouthed
tirade was launched at de Vries - the thrust of which
was outright racism. "F*** off back to the jungle ya
c**n" and "F*** off ya black monkey" were but two of
the Atkinesque quotations the Hearts forward was
subjected to. It made me sick to the core.

I dislike de Vries as much as the next Hibby. Ranking
somewhere far below Gary Mackay (supreme Grand Master
object of revulsion) but above Steven Pressley (how
can anyone really hate dumb animals?)...somewhere just
below Fat Boy Fat Stamp...but just above the insipid
Schnorbitz...de Vries gets my goat, just as he does
yours (and yours and yours). He runs over the top of
unsuspecting middleweights, he falls over as if he
were a flyweight...he pushes the laws of the game to
their limits and plays football like Martin Johnson.
He has no redeeming qualities of note. But he does not
deserve to be subjected to racist abuse from ANYONE -
let alone from one of us. We're supposed to be better
than that.

I don't apologise to anyone for turning round to
challenge my fellow Hibees for their behaviour. Only
afterwards did I think through the possible
consequences of my actions of conscience but by then I
had acted on my gut instincts, done what I knew deep
down to be the ONLY way to shame racists out of the
Hibernian support.

On telling the inividual responsible for the narrow
minded filth that whilst I didnae like the diving,
fouling big get as much as he did but to "cut out the
racist p+sh", I was told to "F*** off" in oh so
predictable fashion. I pursued it by asking whether
the same person would be man enough to offer the same
abuse to Craig "Rocky" Rocastle - only to be told "No,
dinnae be daft". So it was okay to pick and choose who
we abuse? Not likely, son.

I was then told, a la Big Ron, that "Ah'm no a
racist". That'll be right. C**n is as much a racist
slur as n*gg*r - or any other abhorent turn of phrase
that those ignorant enough to use them spew.

It's not big. It's not clever. It is not the Hibernian
way. Mark de Vries didn't cheese me off on Saturday,
half as much as the clown behind me. There has been
much debate about sanitisation of the game, football
rhetoric and the like - much with good cause. This is
one of those situations. There is no place for racist
filth on the Hibernian terraces, in the Hibernian
family or anywhere else.

The bairn still left Tynecastle with his head held
high. Pity some others couldn't do the same...

The Hibees Bounce says NO to Racism