REMINISCENCES OF AN EXCITING LIFE
— James Cowan | 19/10/1910 —

Is a good many years now since I kicked the big ball, and I often wish I could live those years over again. That, however, cannot be, and I must just console myself with the knowledge that mine was a good innings, spent in the best company — a period far and away the best in my life. Fourteen seasons with the Aston Villa club is my little lot, and you will pardon a little pride about it. It conjures up so many visions of the past, and brings to mind so many men I was associated with in my career. Many of them, I venture to think, contributed their pages to the history of our great and glorious game.  

THE OLD INVINCIBLES.

When I left the beloved Vale of Leven for Birmingham — or rather Perry Barr, where the Villa were at that time — the English clubs possessing any pretensions at all were in the toils of probably the greatest team of all time — Preston North End. Those were the days when they had the matchless Nick Ross at back, Trainer in goal, and that wonderful half-back line, Robertson, Russell, and Graham. Later there came the one and only John Goodall, the finest professional centre-forward I have ever seen. What a team it was and how the Villa battled with it! Many years have passed since then, but to-day I still retain the memory of one great footballer, of whom I formed a greater admiration than for any of the countless hundreds I came into contact with during my long career.

A PICTURE OF ROSS.

We have had an Evans, a Billy Williams, and a Bob Crompton since then, but none, in my estimation, like Ross. Coming on to the field he did not impress one a great deal. Picture a man standing about 5ft. 11in., rather pale, but with a studious look. Such is my memory of Ross off the field. But what a remarkable personality in football action. He was a football genius. He could take the ball in all sorts of positions. He seemed to mesmerise it. He was blessed with that rare instinct and intuition which comes to few men in football, and I am quite sure there is no back to-day like him. Robert Crompton and James Sharp possess greatness, but not the same weird power that Ross possessed. I am rather afraid that he was a wee bit inclined to thing o'er-much of himself, but, for all that, he stood above his fellows on the field as the greatest footballer of them all. Once he played against me as a centre-forward, and although he did not exert that same mesmerio influence as he did when playing back, yet Nick was something of a demon in the forward line. I have often been asked to name the back I considered the nearest approach to Ross. One or two hold claims for that distinction, but of the bunch I vote for Billy Williams, of West Bromwich Albion. He was a terror, too. He did not, perhaps, possess the same multiplicity of devices as Ross, but he was his equal as a back, able to appreciate at a glance what to do and when to do it. I was on the opposing side to "Billy" many times, and once or twice he failed to reach his top mark. Ross always did. Albert Evans, of my own club, was another back who oft-times made me think of Ross. He, too, seemed to possess the wonderful knack of knowing what an opposing forward line would strive to do, and be there to intercept it. But he was not the perfect kicker that Ross was.

FROM CALEDONIA STERN AND WILD.

There was another great footballer I made the acquaintance of soon after my arrival in Birmingham. Alas! he only remained in the Villa team a few months after I was fortunate enough to be counted one of the eleven. Poor Archie Hunter! It was characteristic of him never to complain of the dreaded ailment which brought his career to an all too early ending. I saw him long enough, however, to understand why they idolised him. He was a forward who loved nothing better than to dribble his way from the half-way line and then shoot like a rocket at goal. I believe it was for Archie that the Villa once chartered a special train to bring him to a match; probably the first time it was ever done, though it has been copied since. Archie was not always sure of getting away from his work on a Saturday afternoon, for he had an unsympathetic employer. He never forgot the heather and the glen of his early days, and never his mother tongue. Archie, with his good old Scotch melodies, could hold his audiences round the festive board just as well as he could hold them on the football field. He has long since passed away, but I cannot leave my inadequate note to his memory without recalling as best I can some of the opening words of a Scotch song he used to sing. It comes to me still: "Whaur are a' these bright hearts noo, That were then sae leal and true? Some hae left life's troubled scene, Some still are struggling through." 

SAVED BY THE GOALKEEPER.

Sad it is, too, to think that Billy Dickson, the man who succeeded Hunter, has since joined the great majority. He died but a short time ago. He came to Birmingham in a season when the Villa were really a great team. We were then keeping the side together, and in season 1891-2 we got into the final with West Bromwich Albion — a matter which gives rise to a heap of reminiscences. In the semi-final we met Sunderland, and what a match it was. The Wearsiders then had men like Doig in goal, Hugh Wilson left half, and John Campbell at centre-forward. I remember in the first half-hour we never crossed their half-way line. Warner in our goal gave a superb exhibition-the same Warner who was destined to ears much undesirable notoriety for certain happenings in the final. But of that more anon. In the end, however, he won right enough.The

AN UNFOUNDED CHARGE.

To return to the 1891-2 final match was played at the Kennington Oval, and the Albion won. Everything seemed to go wrong with us that afternoon, but the unfortunate player who suffered most was Warner, the goalkeeper. He was, quite wrongly, accused of selling the match, and the sequel was that he left the club. Suspicion attached to him mainly because he was very friendly with one or two boxing and racing men, but, speaking as a player, I can say emphatically that none of Warner's companions in the team ever had the slightest ground to supect that anything shady was going on. Further, I may say that the real reason why Warner left the club was not because the match was lost, but because he was rather too persistent in pressing the claims of one of his friends, whom he wished to be present at the dinner which the club gave to the team after the match. To my knowledge there never was a tittle of evidence to show that Warner purposely lost us that match, and that the Birmingham public were justified in breaking the windows of his house by way of protest.

SOME GREAT MEN.

As regards the match itself I think we were beaten by the much better team on the day's play. It was a day when we saw William Bassett at his very best, and I have no wish to see an outside forward quite so effective as Bassett was at his best. Templeton, when in the mood, was a mrvel, but during his playing career Bassett was much more consistent than Templeton has ever been. The Villa, too, had a great man in that position in this match in Athersmith, but Bassett overshadowed him. The match served the Villa one excellent service. It opened their eyes to two great half-backs in Reynolds and Groves, who left the Albion for Perry Barr the following season. What a sensation their transfer caused. Their departure broke up what is generally acknowledge to be the finest half-back line the Albion ever possessed. The complete line was Reynolds, Perry, and Groves. I have seen it likened to that remarkable trio — Robertson, Russell, and Graha, of Preston North End.