Lightning provides only spark

Richard Moore
FIRST-HALF thunder and lightning led to some humorous enquiries as to whether an "electric storm" might result in this game being abandoned.
In the closing moments, with Hearts 2-0 down and another bolt flashing across the Edinburgh sky, the question was asked once again by a home supporter – but not in jest this time.

Seconds later those left inside Tynecastle – and there weren't many – booed their team off the pitch as time ran out on their final home game of a dismal season. For the players it ensured there would be no cheerful end-of-term goodbyes, only an embarrassed trudge back to the dressing room.

If the thunder and lightning owed something to high air pressure then it was tempting to hypothesise, during a spectacularly mediocre first half, that the lack of another kind of pressure, with nothing at stake for either team, could be to blame. The only problem with that theory is that the circumstances were the same for Kilmarnock, and few would argue that Jim Jefferies' team were not fully deserving winners.

The first half was dreadful, the second marginally better.

Until the 74th minute, when Grant Murray rose at the near post to nod in a Jamie Hamill corner, the game seemed to be heading for a goalless draw. And eight minutes later the visitors applied the coup de grace, thanks to a well-worked goal started and finished by Paul Di Giacomo, who'd only been on a couple of minutes. Paul Dalglish, a danger on the right all afternoon, did well to find Di Giacomo again in the centre, with the substitute able to stroke the ball into the net.

Jefferies was pleased. "In the second half we were the better team all round. It gives us a wee lift at the end of the year." With evident satisfaction, the former Hearts manager added: "That's four times against Hearts (this season] without losing to them."

His counterpart at Hearts was left to rue a disappointing season's end, with only Gretna to come. "I'm not going to criticise my players," said Stevie Frail. "But it's disappointing the way the season is petering out. I put an onus on these games and wanted to go out on a high."

Whether he means "go out" in terms of this season, or his tenure as Hearts manager, Frail is as unsure as anyone. "I've never sought assurances from Mr Romanov," he said. "I've just tried to do my best, though we came way short today."

In fact, Hearts started the game reasonably brightly, with Fernando Screpis and Michael Stewart linking well to set up Deividas Cesnauskis after seven minutes, but his shot from the edge of the box was blocked.

That, however, was about as good as it got. Eleven minutes later Eggert Jonsson was in the box and bearing down on goal when Simon Ford dived in with a challenge. But the defender's timing was impeccable and he swiped the ball from the feet of Jonsson just as the midfielder was thinking about which corner of the net to aim for.

A subdued atmosphere settled on the ground, until the first flash of lightning and distant rumbling of thunder. That provoked a little excitement. As Laryea Kingston galloped down the left and unleashed a shot from a tight angle, the resulting cheers were as much for the enormous clap of thunder that coincided with his shot as with the effort itself, which sailed over.

Kilmarnock did create one or two half-chances, mainly thanks to Dalglish's rampaging runs down the right. On at least three occasions he managed to fire in threatening crosses, though David Fernandez, Kilmarnock's lone striker, wasn't able to get on the end of them.

Another welcome distraction came at half time, when Stephane Adam added a dash of élan to proceedings, rekindling memories of the 1998 Scottish Cup final, when he scored the winner. The Frenchman prompted the loudest cheer of the day when, with man-bag hanging from shoulder, he strode on to the pitch. He is in Edinburgh for today's Robbie Neilson testimonial, in which a Jim Jefferies-managed team of former Hearts players will take on the current team. On yesterday's evidence, the oldies will walk it.

Taken from the Scotsman