I started 2018 in Glasgow, at Pollok’s Newlandsfield, so it makes sense to finish back here with a visit to the third biggest side in Scotland’s largest city. Given the success and dominance of Glesga’s top two sides calling Partick Thistle the city’s third greatest is as fine an accolade as being labelled the fourth best member of The Beatles. Yet like Ringo they may not be as highly regarded as their brethren but certainly important and successful in their own right.
Interestingly (for me at least) by the end of today, after seeing them play Greenock Morton in the SPFL Championship, I will have watched The Jags play in three of the four divisions of the SPFL over the last twenty odd years. This gives you an indication of a rather tumultuous recent history of a club that had a steady footing in the top flight for most of its existence. Founded in 1876 Thistle gained entry to the league proper in 1893 after a short spell in the rival Scottish Football Alliance. Bouncing between divisions one and two until promotion to the top flight in 1902, they went on to have a seventy year unbroken run in the First Division with much happening in that time. In 1908 they left Meadowside Park and Partick altogether, flitting to Maryhill and Firhill where they still reside today. The first game at today’s venue was on the 18th of September 1909 when they inflicted a 3-1 defeat on Dumbarton Harp.
Just over a decade after the move to Maryhill the Scottish Cup took up residency in the Firhill trophy room for the first and only time. In a final held at Celtic Park, Glasgow Rangers were defeated by one goal to nil. Nine years later saw them meet The Gers in the final again where The Light Blues got their revenge over The Jags, only after a replay at Hampden Park. Despite third place finishes in the league in 1948, ’54 and ’63 no more silverware came Thistle’s way until a famous Autumn afternoon in 1971.
The 23rd of October 1971 is generally regarded as the greatest day in the storied history of Partick Thistle. On that day Davie McParland’s side took on Jock Stein’s mighty Celtic in the League Cup final before a crowd of 62,470 at Hampden. Prior to kick-off BBC Sports Sam Leitch famously declared “In Scotland it’s League Cup Final day… where Celtic meet Partick Thistle who have no chance.” Well it took only forty five minutes for The Jags to make Leitch look like a total dick as by half time they were 4-0 up. Dalglish pulled one back for the stunned Bhoys but it did nothing to stop the cup going to Firhill.
Alas the high point of Thistle history also marked the beginning of their decline. Twice in the seventies they were relegated but bounced straight back up, the eighties were not to be so kind. In ’82 they were relegated and remained in the second tier for a decade. This ten year spell badly affected Partick’s finances and by 1998 a fan led ‘Save the Jags’ campaign rescued the club from likely bankruptcy. There was a cost however, Thistle crashed down the divisions almost ending up in the very bottom flight.
In their darkest hour a prodigal son returned to Firhill, legendary gaffer John Lambie came back for a third spell in The Jags dugout. The plain spoken, cigar smoking, pigeon fancier Lambie transformed Partick on the field winning back to back promotions in 2001 and 2002. Back in the Premier League Thistle were favourites for the drop but Lambie kept them up and promptly retired.
Relegated without Lambie’s eccentric genius behind the helm the club once again bobbed around the top three tiers of Scottish football. A good few managers have come & gone while recently ex-player Alan Archibald provided some stability with a five year Premiership run. Back down to the Championship this season the club has struggled to find form with Gary Caldwell in charge. Regardless I’m excited to be off to see a big club today, the Ringo Starrs of Glasgow, so let’s get on.
Pre-match Pints
I have quite a few pubs lined up today, two on Great Western Road and a number lining Maryhill Road on the way to the ground. Today is Old Firm day in Glasgow and with the subway packed there is a slight delay in arriving at my first port of call Inn Deep. Situated next to Kelvinbridge a long flight of stairs takes you down into a basement pub with low stone arches overhead. One of the early craft beer bars in Scotland it has a grand selection of brews from breweries both foreign and domestic with myself opting for a half pint of William’s Bros Black Ball Stout as an opener. The bar opens out to an outdoor seating area that overlooks the roaring River Kelvin, it is a a fine site to watch as I neck a half of Raptor IPA from one of my favourite breweries Cromarty. Beautiful place to start the day, I’ve been before and I’ll return again.
The walk along Great Western Road demonstrates that gentrification has fully arrived in this part of Glesga. A very multicultural area with Polish, African and Asian supermarkets, but in between them we have pretentious eateries, giant tattoo parlors and furniture stores full of ridiculous items only bellends would buy (seriously a flamingo lamp). It is a relief to duck into my next pub Munro’s. It’s another craft beer bar that’s younger than Inn Deep with less of a beer selection but much more comfortable surroundings. Munro’s is geared more towards food service and a busy kitchen is pumping out glorious looking food. It’s beer I want and beer I get, half a Beavertown Neck Oil and glimpse my first Partick fans coming in the door. I’m quickly off again but not before reminding myself to come back for lunch soon.
At St Georges Cross I turn up Maryhill Road and make for The Royalty Bar, the first thing that struck me was the quote from Bill Struth written huge over the freshly painted grey and blue exterior. It’s Auld Firm day, the match is on and I’m headed into a staunch Rangers establishment. The place is totally rammed and I squeeze through the mob to the bar and order a bottle of bud. From what I can see of the décor it is mostly Union Jacks, either hanging from poles or in bunting form. The rear wall has a custom wallpaper upon it showing a massive image of a modern Ibrox Stadium and behind the dark wood bar is a bronze relief copy of King William III’s tomb.
I find a space to watch the game just as Scott Brown is nutmegged for the first Gers goal: the place erupts, goes mental, wild celebrations. The replay of the goal is greeted with louder cheers than I’ve heard at most games this season. As a neutral it is quite a moment to observe and get swept up into. Not long after a wizened auld boy sticks his head in the door to ask the score, upon hearing of Ranger’s lead he cries out ‘bastards’ and hobbles away down the street to much laughter. At half time Ranger lead Celtic at the break for the first time in a game since 2012 and I take my leave from a great experience.
Up next is the Woodside Inn, no Rangers place but a Jags one with Lambie’s famous ‘Tell him he’s Pele’ written on the outside. Inside Thistle fans have filled the place with many focusing on the Old Firm while others discuss the game ahead. A good family feel in here with a mix of men, women and kids about. I note a few women seem to be wearing shoes or boots adorned with spikes, I’m sure it’s a fashion thing but I am careful how I rub up against folk on the way to and from the bar. Half a Guinness and a Makers Mark is £4.20, not bad at all.
Finally at the top of Maryhill Road is Munns, a Thistle bar again but one that had a mix of home and away supporters coexisting harmoniously. I like the ‘Home of The Jags’ painted across the bar and the bud and a brandy (35ml) for just over four quid but the place itself needs a bit of a refurb as generations of fans have left it a bit worn and threadbare. A young chap is absolutely roaring at the Old Firm game while a group from Greenock play a pool masterclass.
The Ground
It costs me a full twenty quid for a ticket into Firhill Stadium, a universal price for any part of the ground which this writer thought was a bit steep. Inside it is a fitba stadium of two halves. Down one touchline and one goal we have two modern single tier stands covered with cantilever roofs; The Jackie Husband Stand (which I’m in) and The John Lambie Stand. Lovely, equipped with pie and pizza stalls and have great views of the action. Across from me is the old main enclosure, the very sorry looking Colin Weir Stand with the away support huddled under it’s pitched roof. Finally behind the other goal the old vast terracing has been covered by lawn with scaffold erected for massive sponsor boards to be placed upon. Overall the place is impressive and, more importantly, right at the heart of the community.
As a cheeky bonus before kick-off I get my picture taken with perhaps Scotland’s, if not the UK’s most famous fitba mascot Kingsley. The reason for his celebrity is the fact he is bloody terrifying; a spikey sun on legs with a vicious monobrow and pupiless eyes. Thankfully he is very accomodating and friendly in the flesh.
The Match
The first forty five minutes of action was utterly pish, the worst I’ve ever seen on my travels. Seriously Thistle played like they had never actually seen a game in their lives and had learned about football from reading a rule book. For some reason they insisted on playing through balls into the space between the box and the touchline but, due to the pitch being a bit worn there, it was too fast and went out for a bye kick every single time. Morton were solid but uninspiring and took the lead in nine minutes; Scott Tiffoney chipping the goalie from twenty five yards after a defensive blunder. Interestingly the home support seemed to see this as business as usual.
At half time I wanted to go home and took solice in a Mr Singh’s curry pie, little did I know we were in for a cracking second period. Partick were a side transformed with Chris Erskine coming on, Blair Spittal getting into the game and Craig Slater stepping up to lead from the middle of the park. Slater was a revelation, superb with the ball at his feet, great at taking on defenders, holding the ball up the pitch and getting into space. His mastery was rewarded with a glorious strike in the sixtieth minute; struck 24 yards infront of goal, it went post and in.
From then on it was inevitable that Partick Thistle would win, the crowd knew it and the atmosphere grew in anticipation. Not long after the equaliser the ball hit the net as Kris Doolan tapped in a shot already on target. Alas Doolan was offside, if he’d left it the Jags would be leading. Then at eighty minutes with Partick pushing Morton broke away and a perfect through ball allowed Chris Telfer to grab a shocking and cruel winner. I stood amazed that Thistle were beaten but those around me had clearly seen this story unfold before.
The Aftermath
Well I had an awesome day in Maryhill were there are pubs for all price points and levels of personal safety. I loved Inn Deep with it’s quirky features and expensive craft beer just as much as I loved The Royalty, packed with joyus Rangers fans on the cusp of a long awaited victory over their moral enemy.
Everything I saw today from packed pubs to a great stadium backed my assertion that Partick Thistle are a huge club in the pantheon of Scottish football. It’s a shame the loyal support ain’t being rewarded with results on the pitch but the modern Jags fan must be used to the ups and downs of being a Thistle supporter. The side does have some fine players and in Craig Slater they have one who has entertained me more than any has in a long time. The squad may be capable of giving the fans what they deserve in the second half of the season and I for one sincerely hope so.
The Fitba Nomad 