NO. XII. — DERBY COUNTY
— "PERSEUS" | 24/11/1900 —

Harsh experience has steeled the stalwarts of Derbyshire against the keenest cuts of misfortune. Time and again the County have come within measurable distance of one of those achievements which would indelibly inscribe their name in the annals of the game — I mean the winning of the League Championship or the English Cup. Once they were second in the race for the league banner and twice third; while four years in succession they went into the Cup semi-final or final, on two occasions the latter, only to be baulked of ultimate triumph. Tantalising ill-luck that; yet I could tell a tale of how they luckily pulled a well-remembered test match out of the fire when reduction seemed assured; and if the horse of hope has often carried them along buoyantly only to throw them at the final hurdle they have had some compensations. Their biggest blow was three seasons since at the Crystal Palace, when, as the popular fancy, they were thoroughly beaten by the red-shirted brigade from the lace city. It was their cherished desire to beat the neighbouring Reds; alas for those hopes the latter were in tip-top form, and the County were not. And to-day the winning club's supporters spin their yarns about the cock-sureness of the Peakites, and tell how a Gladstone bag belonging to a Derby magnate fell into the hands of a Forest official in London after the match, and was found to contain a newly-pressed dress suit, taken specially in anticipation of a victory celebration banquet at one of the swell metropolitan hotels.

INCIDENTS OF ITS INCEPTION.

Scarcely claiming to be counted among the veteran clubs, for they were only established in 1884, Derby may still point to a career covering a period in which the conditions of football have changed and changed again. Indeed, one has only to cast a casual glance over the names of some early players to appreciate this fact. Haydn Morley, a clever back, may be recalled by some old devotees of the game, and B. W. Spilsbury, the talented Corinthian, was even better known. Well, both those were in the first eleven which represented the club, and an idea of the length of its career may also be obtained from the fact that one of their opponents in the first match they played was imperishably-renowned John Goodall, who on that particular day 16 years ago was playing his first game for an English organisation. And now even his spell of football, although extending far beyond the usual span of a player's active service, is ended. Thus you get a comparative idea of the time the Derby club has been in existence. Associated in its early days with the County Cricket Club, it had at once a recognised standing, and this it has never lost, although there is now no connection whatever between the two organisations. Formerly they, as well as the cricketers, played on the racecourse, removing, however, just over five years ago to the more conveniently situated and better-equipped Baseball Ground — an enclosure fitted up originally by Mr. Francis Ley, a wealthy admirer of the American game.

THE CHEQUERED CAREER.

Having hinted in the first paragraph that Derby have been pretty well tossed about on the undulating waves of good and ill-fortune, and have, in fact, found their course of progress fashioned somewhat on the principle of a switchback, let us glance at a few brief facts, hard yet not dry if they are read in the light of their true instruction. In one point, 'tis true, there has been consistency, for they have never lost the place assigned to them in the League upon its formation, but there you stop, for examining the circumstances surrounding their retention of a position in the select circle it is found that twice, if I am not mistaken, they have had to be re-elected, while once they dropped into the tests and had to face the music of one of those momentous games. To illustrate their quick transitions of form, I may point out that while in 1894-5 they fell to this low pitch, they were third in the League the year previously, and second in the following season. Their Cup experience has been briefly suggested above, and generally they have been an uncertain quantity, liable even in some of their bad spells to rise Phoenix-like from the ashes of their humiliation and slay very giants of the game.


THE PRIDE OF THE PEAK.

A close acquaintance with the County leaves the strong conviction that the soundest, most serviceable eleven the club ever boasted, at all events since the League cares into being, was that of 1895-6 — the season when the forward division was reinforced by a trio of capable — I do not say brilliant — forward in Miler, Stevenson, and McQueen, who, with John Goodall and Bloomer on the right, formed an attacking force of real merit. Those were the days when the last-named, nursed by his veteran partner, who still retained much of his value, was building up his reputation; his dazzling runs were the feature of the time; to feed him was tantamount to touching an electric button, for the current worked just as surely, and with deadly effect, Stephen accordingly being reckoned a goal-getter par excellence. In the half-back line there were Archie Goodall and Kinsey, the third man, I believe, being Cox, while further behind were Methven and Leiper, and in goal the safest keeper of recent years, J. W. Robinson, now the star of the South at Southampton. That was the finest team the Peakites ever possessed, far better balanced than the one of to-day, which in the forward division is uneven and uncertain, although effective on occasions.

MEN OF MARK.

Two names alone will keep Derby County in our memories for many years — Goodall and Bloomer. Especially to the Derbyshire man they represent the highest conception of excellence; they are at once idols and ideals. Such regard is not undeserved. Who will deny that John Goodall, the old-time North Ender, was one of the most perfect forwards ever seen, a master in tactics, with an instantaneous idea of the correct movement, gifted with remarkable command over the ball, and a superb shot however the ball came to him, shooting or passing on the run — rare accomplishments in these later days? A catalogue of his honours would fill far more space than is here available; sufficient that he has 14 international caps, half of them against Scotland — the country in which he learnt his football, though born a Cockney. The other brilliant, that is Bloomer, has only two caps less, and is still the most striking forward in the country, a flyer of the coruscating order, speedy, with capital control over the ball, an excellent knowledge of either working for or getting in position, and a terrific shot. It is of him that burly Bill Foulke says his hots are heard but seldom seen; and Goodall must be proud of his pupil, who still dazzles, though he himself has retired to the referential profession. The Goodall family, however, is still represented in the Derbyshire team by brother Archie, a talented centre-half, who went there, along with John, in 1889. Mentioning a few other men of rank connect with the club, one is reminded not only of Haydn Morley, B. W. Spilsbury, George Evans, and Frank Sugg (the Lancashire cricketer), but of Sandy Huggins, a demon dribbler; Roulstone, Ferguson, Staley, Methven, Leiper, W. Storer (the All-England wicket-keeper, who could rough it as a forward), Robinson, the Goodalls, Bloomer, Fryer, Blackett, etc — not an exhaustive though an extensive list.


A CHAT WITH JOHN GOODALL.

With the most illustrious of all Peakites — John Goodall — I had a chat recently. Birds, as many may know, are his hobby, and he contrives to combine business and pleasure by running a naturalist's establishment in Derby. There I found him surrounded by his feathered friends, a conceited cockatoo evidently resenting my intrusion, judging by its obvious symptoms of irritation. We talked of his coming to Derby in 1889, of the club's progress since that time, and I was glad to find he agreed when I suggested that the 1895-6 team already referred to was the club's best. But football to-day, he said, is miles behind what it was just over a decade ago. In no match I have seen or taken part in during recent years has the standard approached that of the past. Individually, we have more good players now, perhaps, than ever, but the combination, comparatively speaking, is elementary. In the forward line, especially, play has declined. Old North End were an example of how the game should be played; The Corinthians, powerful as they were with their individual brilliance — and Cobbold was the prince of individuals — never equalled the Proud Town team. Besides, their style was so much more exhausting. When at Preston I have seen Corinthians, Spilsbury for instance, run near the length of the field, and then fail to shoot with the steam simply for lack of wind and finishing. Better? No; combination is "the" game, and there is no better man to foster it than G. O. Smith, a wonder of a centre as everyone knows who has played alongside him. Before leaving, I referred to the wage question, and Goodall expressed the opinion that £3 a week was enough for any man, also advancing the somewhat astonishing argument that all players good enough for the League team should be paid alike. I told him of a recent case in which a player drew £500 for one season. Something suggesting incredulity was stamped on his countenance, as he sadly remarked, "I was born too soon."