February 13, 1893
Enthusiasm was at fever-heat at Gigg Lane on Saturday, consequent on the all-important Lancashire League championship match between Bury and Liverpool. The race for the premiership has been very keen for some time, and the little accident of a week ago at Southport has brought the two rivals so near together that only a single point separated them, and the state of the poll was apparently in favour of the Liverpool men. Now, however, Bury are three points to the good. Their most dangerous antagonists have yet a game in hand, but the complexion of affairs will need to undergo a decided change before Bury are deposed from their place of honour. The followers of the Lancashire cup-holders mustered in full force, and there must have been 8,000 persons on the scene of conflict by the time the play got nicely under weigh. The teams took up their positions as below: –
Bury: John Lowe, George Holt, John Warburton, Joe Clegg, R. Jobson, George Ross, Jack Plant, Bourne, Williie Barbour, A. Spence, Arthur Wilkinson.
Liverpool: Sydney Ross, Andrew Hannah, Duncan McLean, John McCartney, Joe McQue, James McBride, Thomas Wyllie, Jock Smith, John Miller, Malcolm McVean, Matt McQueen.
Referee: Mr. T. Marriott.
The Bury players had spent the week at Lancaster, and stepped into the arena with the air of gladiators who had come to conquer. Bourn, who has been absent for several weeks, came in for a special ovation all to himself. We had not long to wait for evidence that the home side meant business, for they were soon hovering around the Liverpool goal, and burly McLean had no end of opportunities for showing his undoubted capabilities as a full-back. His fiery head was easily distinguishable, whilst his Apollo-like limbs came in for general admiration. Ross had a sultry time of it under the bar, and performed his part well. He was all but beaten many a time and oft, but it was 22 minutes after the start before Barbour headed the ball past him for the first time.
The Bury forwards were marvellously clever in working the ball down the field, and seemed to sweep away all opposition almost as they liked. The way in which the outside wings screwed in and centred was a constant source of danger, and it was but seldom that the home supporters had occasion for anxiety as to Lowe’s charge. It speaks volumes for the character of the Liverpool defence that they had only one goal recorded against them at the interval, for two-thirds of the of the warfare was carried on in their territory.
Now that the visitors had the aid of a stiffish breeze, and only one point to rub off, their admirers were very hopeful as to the result. But a rude awakening was in store for them. The Gigg Lane men never slackened their pace for a single moment, and literally forced corners by the half-dozen. Their long shots and electric rushes came off to a nicety, and the crowd looked on with delight.
Sometimes three corners would be taken in rapid succession, and I may safely say that I never in all my life saw corners better put in than they were by Wilkinson and Platt. In no single case was the ball sent behind, and the auburn-tinted cranium of McLean was ever to the fore in heading from under the bar, whilst Ross’s goalkeeping was of the A1 brand.
Lowe, at the other end, had rarely anything to do, and more rarely still was he sorely pressed. Spence and Plant added goals for Bury, each success being the signal for volleys of cheers, and when time had expired Liverpool were beaten by three to nothing. As they won the first engagement at Anfield by four goals to nothing, they had thus a goal the better of their opponents on the season’s doings.
Bury are indeed champions on their own enclosure, and I can well understand that their friends declare there is no team like them. The dash and go of the forwards is like a wave of the sea dashing on the rocks, and it was this element that broke down the visitors’ defence. Once on the move, the ball seemed bound to finish up somewhere near the desired haven, and the unanimity between the whole of the forwards was ever noticeable – Wilkinson and Plant for their dashing runs and smart centres, Spence and Bourn for their tasty passing, and Barbour for his unselfishness and excellent shooting came in for repeated commendation, each and all being vastly superior to the Liverpool front rank. The half-back division stuck to their work with great pluck, Ross and Jobson continually shining, whilst Clegg was seldom at fault. Warburton and Holt left Lowe little to do, and the little he did with perfect satisfaction.
I expected better things of the visitors, particularly of the front row. Several of them exhibited excellent command over the ball, and Smith and Wyllie put in some telling runs, but everyone of them lacked finish. Their powder was of a poor quality, and when they did let fly their shots never hurt anybody.
McBride had a handful in the home right wing, but he was not always second best, and I thought him cleverer than either of his colleagues. McLean did nearly twice as much work as Hannah, who was hampered by a bad toe, which accounted for his uneven kicking. Ross could certainly go back to Liverpool conscious of having done his duty fearlessly and effectively. No man could have kept goal better.
(Source: Athletic News: February 13, 1893)
"Play Up, Liverpool" 