William Isaiah Bassett will always be recalled as one of the dozen giants associated with the dribbling code. He was not a giant in stature, but he was a giant at the game. He brought to bear upon it every grain of intellect and brain power which he possessed, and a generation hence old stagers will be speaking of him as the greatest big-match player of their time. And in truth William Bassett had a special knack of shining on great occasions; and few men were privileged to take part in more notable encounters, for while Bassett was in his prime West Bromwich Albion were, although not the best, undoubtedly the most talked of team in the country. In an International Bassett was the safest card that England had in her hand. He always rose to the occasion and played right at the top of his form. It was Bassett's delight to get pitted against a side the defenders in which were unfamiliar with his methods. When a half-back was meeting William Bassett for the first time, that defender always had a great deal to learn; as often as not he was literally fooled. Some halves never mastered Bassett's trick of running outside the touch-line. He used to delight in playing on a ground where there was plenty of room between the touch-line and the railings. That was the reason why he never failed to give a great show at the Oval or the Crystal Palace, or any of the leading grounds where International games were decided. On a small, cramped field, where all the men were in a heap, he was at a disadvantage, although he often rose superior to these drawbacks. Talking of Bassett's great performances, apart from his many International triumphs, who will ever forget the sensational runs he made in that re-played English Cup semi-final against Notts Forest at Derby? The game was played in a blinding snowstorm, but the whirling flakes made little difference to Bassett, who raced away half the length of the field every time the ball came to him. His centring was perfect; he flashed the ball in while travelling at full speed, and so accurately did it fall to the forwards on the other side of the field that the whole of the six goals which the Albion scored came from the little man's centres.

And what a hero he was that afternoon at the Crystal Palace, when Aston Villa and the Albion met in the Cup final on the first occasion that a Cup final was decided upon that now historic sward! He was leading a forlorn hope that afternoon, but with what indomitable pluck and magnificent ability he led it! He was constantly breaking away, and he usually had to fight the whole of the Villa defenders single-handed, for Bassett had indifferent support from his colleagues that afternoon. One run he made electrified the crowd. He dodged man after man, and although forced by sheer weight of numbers to take a course something like the letter S, he kept eluding opponent after opponent, and it seemed that he might score after all. That was the most lion-hearted effort the writer has ever seen on a football field. But Bassett was always in his element on these great occasions. He sprang into fame that afternoon when the Albion defeated North End in the English Cup final of 1888. He was but a slip of a lad at the time, but they gave him his Irish cap — the first of a long series — on the strength of that show. But Bassett never knew what it was to fail on a momentous occasion.

For practically a decade William Bassett was in a class by himself in England as an outside right. There was no one to dispute his supremacy, and he came to have a kind of prescriptive right to his cap for that position. An almost diminutive fellow (5 ft. 5 1/2 in.), Bassett gained no assistance from his physique. He relied for his success upon sheer skill. Looking back upon his career now, remembering his slight frame, and recalling the persistent way in which he was watched and indeed shadowed, one is constrained to think more highly of his play than even his contemporaries did. Bassett had a smart turn of speed, although I do not know that he would have held his own with some of his contemporaries in an ordinary sprint race. What served him in such good stead was the remarkable burst of speed he had for thirty or forty yards. He was in full gallop as soon as he started, and it was the suddenness with which he got into his stride that enabled him to leave the opposing half-back as though the latter were taking no part in the game. Bassett had a mystifying trick, too, of stopping the ball while travelling at full speed. The half-back who was pursuing him was left to rush on while William quietly took stock of the situation and was able to part with the ball to real advantage.

But no man could excel Bassett in the art of centring while on the run. He used to practise this constantly; it is doubtful if many present-day players practise as assiduously as Bassett did. He could halt with the ball at any time during his run. He knew how to centre, too, so that the maximum amount of danger should accrue to his opponents' goal. Bassett could get goals, but he never tried to be a prolific scorer. His great speciality was a centre which dropped at the toe of the inside left. Pearson and Wilson, and later Pearson and Geddes, the Albion left wing pair, always knew when the ball was coming, and they were always in position to receive it. Rarely indeed did Bassett waste a centre. Too many forwards centre along the ground or else keep the ball low, and the consequence is that ten times out of twelve it either strikes or is intercepted by an opponent. Bassett always lifted the ball well up and dropped it right past the near back, always taking care to place it either to the centre man, the dashing Jem Bayless, or to Pearson at inside left. And that is one of the great arts of centring.

Neither did Bassett make for the corner before he centred. He did not care to fight a duel with the opposing half or full back; he preferred to get rid of the ball before they threatened danger. This is a lesson he is always preaching to young players, but there are many who seem slow to learn it. He believed in making ground rapidly, and was altogether averse to the modern method of passing and re-passing without getting forward with the ball. He and his genial little partner, Roddy M'Leod, knew how to kick back and heel back as well as any pair ever associated on a wing, but they only resorted to such devices in order to get a clear chance of centring. And as I have said, Bassett's great contention is that a wing forward should above all things learn to loose the ball, and loose it accurately and effectively, without checking his speed in the least. He was and is the great apostle of effective football. If he could not get along with the ball he liked to let some one have it who could do so.

The writer has heard superficial critics dismiss the claims of Bassett with the curt remark, "Oh, he was all right if the half-back did not bundle into him, but he had not much heart if he met a man who gave him his shoulder whenever he could." There are men in the Midlands who believe that Bassett was an overrated player. Well, they probably never saw him in a really big game. There were halves who used to stop Bassett and almost (to use a popular phrase) bottle him up, but they were few and far between. I have seen the late Peter Dowds of the Celtic and Aston Villa put Bassett right off his game; but then Peter Dowds was not an ordinary player. But the fact remains that Bassett never played an indifferent game on any occasion when the reputation of his club or his country was at stake, and in estimating his worth one has to remember that throughout his football career he was the most marked man the game knew. At times he was played on in a wantonly cruel manner.

"He would not have any charging," was another superficial complaint levelled at Bassett. No, he would not, if he could help it, and a very sensible fellow he was to take such a view of his possibilities. A man of slight build is compelled to avoid unreasonable risks; in other words, he has to take reasonable care of himself. This Bassett did; he did not seek provocation and rush into danger unnecessarily. He would not have had such a lengthy career had he courted risks.

Just a word concerning the Bassett and Roddy M'Leod partnership. M'Leod was undoubtedly the finest partner Bassett ever had; some say that this wing approached more nearly to perfection in point of understanding than any ever seen. M'Leod was content to act as the foil to Bassett's brilliancy; he simply yearned to make openings for his comrade. Such self-effacement as M'Leod showed is rare in a footballer.