NO. XV. — STEVE BLOOMER
— "PERSEUS" | 09/12/1899 —

Bloomer out of bounds! Footballdom was thrilled last Saturday night by the news flashed along the wires from Liverpool that Bloomer had been ordered off the field at Goodison Park. The sensation caused by the circulation of the intelligence was about on a par with that which resulted two seasons ago when on Christmas Eve Fred Spiksley was requested to leave the playing piece of Olive Grove. As referees rarely resort to this extremity each case of the kind in first-class football is duly noted, and if a famous international is concerned it is at once a cause celebre. So the marching off of Bloomer has been the topic of the week; he is the man of the moment, if in a sense not altogether enviable. Those who know most about the player's temperament will scarcely affect to have been altogether astonished and taken aback by the occurrence, however unlooked for such a thing was in this particular match, because Bloomer's make-up contains in pretty strong measure a dangerous admixture of mustard and pepper. Quick tempered, as can be seen by the observant spectator, he flashes fire hastily when subjected to unfair treatment on the field, as he often has been and was seven days ago if his own account of the incident, which is not likely to lack corroboration, is correct. That he kicked an opponent seems beyond question. Consequently Mr. Green, of West Bromwich, who ranks among our leading referees, cannot be criticised, especially as he had previously administered a caution. It was unfortunate if he missed the kick which the Derby star says brought forth retaliation. If extenuating circumstances are established the punishment to fit the crime cannot be severe, and perhaps the final outcome may be good in having a chastening effect on the player.



The fierce light which beats upon the footballer might expose other faults. But let that pass. As a player of the game Bloomer has won a notable triumph. For years he has had no serious rival for the post of inside right in England International teams, and this not because we have been without other good men, but rather in consequence of his own superlative skill and brilliance. Born at Cradley Heath, in the Black Country, Stephen Bloomer early went to the Derby district, where he played in junior football, rising to the Derby Swifts, and thence advaning to County distinction. His first season with the club was 1892-3, but it was two years later when he came bang to the front. Two Steves proved top sawyers that season, and both were capped against Scotland. Steve Smith has not been honoured since, while Bloomer has in the interval only missed one Scotch match, and possesses in all about eleven international caps, to say nothing of Inter-League recognitions. If there is an English forward in the same class as Bloomer to-day it is the Corinthian skipper, G. O. Smith, our only absolutely great centre-forward. Since his introduction to first class company, Bloomer has stuck to Derby County, and the association has been a profitable one for the player, apart from financial remuneration, which during the past few years must have been of handsome order. But when he joined Derby he found there John Goodall, and until the last season or two he was regularly alongside this famous man. Goodall was to Bloomer what Devey has been, and is now in a slightly modified degree, to Athersmith, only the Derby captain was himself a more accomplished performer than the Villa football, and could give his pupil more points. Bloomer was born great, but the possibilities might never have been drawn out to so full extent had it not been his fortune to fall in with so splendid player as Goodall. John, by the way, chaperoned him in his first Scotch match, playing centre on that occasion — the last but one of Goodall's seven appearances against the representatives of a land in which he, though born a Cockney, learned his football.

Bloomer is the one player above all others I like to watch in full form. Below medium height and light, he is so splendidly springy as to bound about with an ease and agility suggestive of indiarubber. His dribbling is clever, and he passes with judgment, but you see the real Bloomer when a superb effort is wanted. Watch him pounce hawk-like on the ball, which half a second ago seemed beyond his reach, and dash at high speed towards goal, the custodian meanwhile a study in apprehension. The grand coup, and you instinctively look for the ball in the net — and it often happens you find it there. These brilliant bursts, daring in their conception, and executed with a suddenness which sends a thrill of excitement through the system, are among the best sights in football. One minute you have noticed the player standing apart unconcernedly, while the others were working — a whim which great players sometimes indulge — but the next he swoops down with the swiftness of the kingfisher. Wherever the movement may have left him for his final effort, the shot is pretty sure to be straight to the mark and furiously fast. The happy knack required in shooting he has acquired and perfected, otherwise so small a man could not drive the ball in with such force. Scots wha ha'e met Bloomer dread him more than any other forward we have. They are likely to see him in Glasgow again next April, for he is still our chief inside right, and the hasty action of last week cannot affect his chances. Lucky it is for Scotland that they have such a sterling opponent as J. Robertson to pit against him.