Few Firhill thrills as Moilanen spills

Alex Robertson

PARTICK THISTLE 1
HEARTS 1

FOR almost 80 minutes, Partick Thistle and Hearts contrived to ignore any consequence winning this game may have had. A European place and SPL survival seemed irrelevant to this lackadaisical bunch who continually failed to inspire.

Two goals inside six minutes though, as the match was plodding to its end, provided a point apiece. The result was a fair one but the effort delivered for the paying support of more than 5,000 was not. There was, at least, an exciting finish as for the first time the sides chased a win, whatever their motivation.

Hearts fortunes - guaranteed of course in the SPL - were a great deal brighter than Thistle’s. The contrast and opportunity was reflected on the pitch. Steven Pressley was back in Hearts defence while Scott Paterson was absent through injury from Thistle’s back four. Both men are talismanic figures in their side and Paterson’s absence only contributed to the home side’s disadvantage.

Thistle could have done with another performance of the type witnessed at Ibrox the previous week. But where there had been solidity, there was now a lack of cohesion. A lack of assurance replaced determination. Hearts, through tormentor-in-chief Mark de Vries, were altogether more fluid. The big man could have headed and volleyed his side into the lead on more than one occasion with less than 20 minutes played.

Lambie’s charges were ragged, scurrying around the field often infuriating their supporters. The gulf in ability and confidence was evident as the match developed into a terribly towsy affair, which inevitably led to crowd-pleasing goalmouth scrambles. The highlight of this penalty-box ping-pong was an Alex Burns effort deflected round the post by a flailing outstretched leg in a sea of bodies.

Craig Levein’s side were strong, attractive and neat in possession for much of the first half. There were relatively few opportunities though in which the consequence was clear-cut chances. They were certainly well on top and dismissed the home side’s brief flurry of activity quite easily.

The first half was almost at an end when the Jags’ cosmopolitan support were wondering when their side would wake up. Home chances were often a result of a lack of concentration on Hearts part, but even then Thistle’s final ball was woefully inadequate, nowhere near finding its intended target. Inspiration, it seemed had vanished during the interval.

It was torrid viewing at times and the ball was often stuck in the middle of the park, without purpose or direction. When it did break free it often led to a tepid penalty-box scramble for the Jags followed by a lukewarm breakaway from Hearts which broke down before the edge of the penalty area was even coming into sight.

Exactly why the players were approaching the match in such a fashion was a mystery. There was enough to play for, motivation did exist. There was survival to think of for Thistle, Lambie would soon be off and what better gift than SPL survival? For Hearts there was a lucrative European place. But neither of the above appeared to be having any effect whatsoever.

The match briefly sprung to life midway through the second half when De Vries played in Andy Kirk who displayed quick feet to turn Archibald and send a shot straight into Kenny Arthur’s arms. The opportunity raised the game a notch. Thistle were buoyed by their good fortune and Hearts equally elated that there was a way through. A consequence was more penalty-box action somewhere above goalmouth scramble but still below clear-cut chance.

The whole complexion of the match changed on the 73-minute mark when Jamie Mitchell rose to head the ball over the line - just. Hardy had sprinted down the wing to fire a curling cross to the back post which Tepi Moilanen held - only to fall backwards across the line taking the ball with him, with the assistant referee flagging a goal.

A game devoid of incident then overflowed in the final 10 minutes in which Hearts drew level, Pressley rising to head home from a Stamp corner.

Taken from the Scotsman