There was always something of the Marmite about Barry Ferguson – loved or hated, without a position in between – he had his admirers but there were just as many who could not stand him as a player.
I confess my membership of the latter brigade. To see him depart North Lodge Park with his tail between his legs was, for me, a dream come true.
The assumption that Highland League football is low level stuff doesn’t hold up at all in the light of yesterday’s results with Huntly, Locos and Buckie joining us in the draw for round three.
The allure of the cup is in giant killing and seeing the mighty or [even the Bully Wee] getting their comeuppance and there was plenty of that.
Baz aside, what made the win particularly sweet for the North Lodge faithful was confounding the expectation in some quarters that Clyde only had to turn up to turn over a Mickey Mouse team of country bumpkins.
The following appeared in the estimable Pie and Bovril forum shortly after the draw for round two was made: “I’ve never even heard of Fortmarine. No doubt a diddy town packed full of utter bumpkins and retirees, with an utter shanner of a football team to match. Fortmarine 0-5 Clyde.”
Admittedly the post came from a Clyde fan who appears to have a history of trying to wind up other team’s fans but Fort marine indeed – a castle full of boats perhaps to match the one on the Clyde badge? When you are confronted with that sort of narrow minded arrogance you can’t resist the schadenfreude of giving them a right doing.
The result was only part of the pleasure – the way we bossed them all over the park right through the game outplaying them completely, was the icing on the cake.
Thank you Formartine – you made an old man very happy.