Bridesmaid no more

Gordon Hill

It was a glorious day in May. The sun shone like never before and 40 years of pain would be eradicated in 90 fabulous minutes.

Hearts most famous fanzine was called Forever the bridesmaid; a self-mocking acknowledgement that whenever the team had been in a position to win something, they always managed to fall short (usually by one agonising step).

Up until the mid to late 1950s Hearts had been, in provincial terms, a relatively successful team. League and cup wins had sown the seeds for a bright future. Alas, for a very long time, it was not to be.

Having first started attending Tynecastle in the late 1980s I was used to seeing good Hearts sides doing well, but just not well enough (enduring Scottish Cup semi-finals against Airdrie, the old Airdrie that is, are a case in point). Fortunately, I started to follow Hearts after the disastrous and infamous Dundee game so didnt have the heartache, if you pardon the pun, that this generated. I do remember watching the TV news that night and watching maroon strewn supporters looking dazed and confused as to what had happened.

So, it was with some trepidation that we made our way along the M8 again to Parkhead for the Scottish Cup final against Rangers. Dreams the night before had been full of dealing with gloating Hibs fans at work after another ignominious defeat at the final hurdle.

We arrived at a pub beside the Zoo park at about 12.30. Early enough for a pub lunch and a couple of pints. The bar was full of Hearts fans, some looking optimistic and others with a look of tired resignation on their faces. Despite this we set off for Parkhead in high hopes of at least salvaging our season, which had been pretty good by all accounts.

As we arrived at the ground the sun was shining, as it always seems to do on cup final day. Parkhead had not yet been fully redeveloped and my seat was teetering on the edge of the upper tier of the new stand. Looking down I could see the pitch on one side, and a precipitous drop on the other.

The game finally started and the ground was jumping. Okay Gordon, I said to myself above the din, try not to get too carried away here.

Then, uncharacteristically, Stevie Fulton made a burst into the box, and was fouled. We had a penalty!!! Cameron stepped up and duly put the ball past Goram. We were 1-0 up! Cue a nail-biting game. I didnt dare look for most of it, but got drawn into the singing from the rest of the fans.

After what seemed like an age it was half time and we were still 1-0 ahead.

The second half started and Rangers were pushing for an equaliser, all of a sudden Stephane Adam had bee put through on the right and hit a powerful shot past Goram. He ran to the crowd with arms out-stretched. We were 2-0 up. Could it be? Could it really be that we were about to break our hoodoo?

True to form McCoist pulled one back and the nerves jangled again. Then, the sweetest sound. The referee blew his whistle and we had done it! We had won the Scottish Cup. Boy, did that sound good.

The presentation added to it all. First the team lifted the cup and then wee Robbo. A servant to the club who gave his all and was a true legend, lifted the cup with his hand on his heart. What a moment, what a day.

The bridesmaid no more!