Hibs 1 Hearts 5

May 21 2012 By Keith Jackson
hearts, scottish cup final

Hearts players celebrate winning the Scottish Cup final against Hibs

IT was the Hibs fans who felt it the hardest. Having waited 110 years to pick up a special pot of silver, they discovered only ignominy and gut-wrenching disappointment was waiting at the other end of the M8.

This was the day their oldest, deepest wounds were torn open by the baying mob from across the city. And the salt was rubbed all over them. Not to mention the sauce.

It was all too traumatic and painful for them to watch. Having travelled to Glasgow full of hope, yet high on anxiety, it was simply impossible for them to sit there and stomach it. They began heading home shortly after half-time when the hopeless Pa Kujabi was sent off.

The Gambian was way out of his depth and drowning in the sea of misery he was inflicting on his supporters. He was a red card waiting to happen and the only person who didn’t seem to notice was Pat Fenlon, who was probably too busy flicking crude signs at the gleeful maroon hordes.

Had Fenlon being paying any kind of attention, he would surely have seen Kujabi was the weakest link in a team packed full of them.

Having looked utterly frazzled by the occasion, Kujabi’s calamity right at the start of the second half was the final, fatal act of self-harming.

Quite inexplicably, he clattered into team-mate Leigh Griffiths when the striker was waiting for a header.

As a result, Suso Santana was allowed to burst in behind the defence and by the time Kujabi had caught up he stupidly tugged on the Spaniard’s shirt.

Was it a penalty? Probably not, as the offence took place outside the box. But it was worth a second yellow card and when referee Craig Thomson then pulled out the red he was, in reality, carrying out an act of kindness. Kujabi had done more than enough damage for one day.

On reflection, he did enough to last the next 110 years.

No wonder, then, that some of the more distraught Hibs fans were heading for the exits before Danny Grainger’s spot-kick hit the net. From that moment, there was a steady stream of leavers until there was hardly any of them left.

It was just too painful, too utterly appalling for them to stick around, especially when there were precious few signs that any of the players were suffering anywhere near as badly. That was probably what pained them most of all.

It is not being unkind to describe Hibs’ pitiful display as bordering on the disgraceful, so sparse was their effort and so complete was their surrender.

Yes, they lack talent, of that there is no doubt. In fact, there were times when Ian Black could have taken them all on by himself. But a lack of ability cannot be used to excuse what was an almost total absence of effort or pride. Everywhere you looked there was a Hibs player selling the fans short.

It was an irony that, before he led his team to collect their runners-up medals, James McPake had removed his shirt and tossed it to one of the few remaining stragglers. Because McPake was about the only one who deserved to be wearing it.

Lewis Stevenson was the only other who could hold his head high. Hibs were swamped by a side that had arrived determined not to let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass it by. This was the day some ordinary players were handed an extraordinary chance to make themselves legends. It was Paulo Sergio’s men who delivered and some of them actually excelled.

Black, in his last game for the club he supported as a boy, was immense from the moment he sprayed his first 40-yard pass.

Rudi Skacel, who was also saying his farewells second time around, was an inspiration and scorer of an historic Hampden double.

It was the complete failure of Tom Soares, Jorge Claros and Isaiah Osbourne to get close to these schemers that set the tone. They became this final’s dominant forces, although Black was fortunate not to be dismissed after only nine minutes when he smashed a forearm into the throat of Griffiths.

It was a brainless moment but ref Thomson failed to spot it and Black was allowed to concentrate on hurting Hibs in the right ways, with Skacel his able assistant.

But they were not alone. Left-back Grainger was close to faultless while right-back Ryan McGowan covered enough grass to carry him halfway home to Australia. Andy Webster and Marius Zaliukas were rarely given cause to breath heavily.

In midfield, Darren Barr not only did all the dogs’ work but also helped himself to the scruffiest of opening goals after Hibs had failed on three occasions to deal with one of Grainger’s corners. Eventually, with Kujabi daydreaming, the ball broke to the onside Barr who jabbed out a boot to beat keeper Brown.

It was 2-0 in 26 minutes when Black picked out Skacel who was given time and space to turn and fire for goal. By the time McPake had lunged into a tackle, Skacel’s shot was on its way and the ball deflected off the defender as it looped home.

The defiant McPake pulled one back five minutes before half-time after Stevenson had released Soares down the right with a terrific pass.

But Kujabi blew up spectacularly after the restart and this time there would be no way back.

McGowan made sure of it in 49 minutes when he bagged the fourth with a diving header after more shoddy Hibs defending. And Skacel rubbed in the salt ’n sauce when he smacked home the fifth after a calamitous collision between Soares and Osbourne.

By now the Hibs end was almost empty but the trauma was complete. And who could blame them now if these people have finally lost all hope?

It might be easier to accept another 110 years of hurt than to suffer 90 minutes of such excruciating pain ever again.

Taken from the Daily Record