Aidan Smith: Half-time cup of tea, Ern?

The headline read: “Cup + Local Rivalry = Excitement.” That was Hearts programme editor Davie Laing’s welcome for what was my first capital clash for the infernal silver pail. He wasn’t wrong that day – 1971, fourth round – and he’s not been wrong since.

Though, to be accurate, and by the knot of his tie I’m guessing Davie was a very precise fellow, you would have to insert into the equation flying wingers, sighing goalies, striking postmen, vaulting postmen, leaping trout, a teenage rampage from the Gorgie Boot Boys and – an old favourite of this column – Ernie Winchester, pictured below.

I still have my copy of the (sic) Maroon’s Journal from that Tynecastle tie, so Davie wasn’t always so precise, and also my ticket stub (7s, south enclosure). A fine array of attacking talent was on display, even though the programme’s cover star, the luscious, pouting Eric Carruthers, wasn’t picked. For Hibs there was an almost slimline Jimmy O’Rourke (well, compared with ref Tiny Wharton) and the white-booted Joe Baker. Hearts went with Donald Ford and the centre-forward named after both a rifle and a speedy milkman but this was the fag-end of old Ernie’s career when he was neither fast nor much of a hotshot. The less-celebrated Kevin Hegarty scored for Hearts, cancelling out a rare goal from John Hazel, who was briefly Carruthers’ rival as the trendiest young footballer around Embra of the post-Peter Marinello era. Hazel once passed me coming out of the wild west-style doors of the Jean Saloon, which more or less counted. Meanwhile, all the velocity 42 years ago came from Arthur Duncan. I can still see “Nijinsky” galloping through the Hearts defence to thump home the late winner. Unfortunately, this bears no relation to what actually happened. In my memory, he started his run a long, long way out – possibly as far back as the top of Robertson Avenue, which for those who know the Gorgie environs, is deep in their soot-caked tenemental twilight zone. In reality, borne out by black-and-white TV footage with the great George Davidson commentating, Duncan picked up the ball just inside the opposition half. That’s what the tremulous excitement of a Scottish Cup victory over your rivals can do – warp the mind. Still, a great effort by Arthur, and flicking over the programme’s letters page, it must have been a blow to the contributors including Neil Graham (aged 16 and a half), all of whom were hoping for success in two cups, the Scottish and the Texaco, after receiving grateful thanks from Davie the Ed for hand-delivering their epistles to beat a posties’ strike.

You never forget your first Scottish Cup victory over your rivals so no apologies for lingering on ’71.

Eight years later Hibs won again, by the same scoreline, but memories of this quarter-final tie are hazy because, once more acknowledging the veritas of the programme, the telly cameras were blown down the Easter Road terracing in a gale, result – nae highlights. One thing I do remember is some Hearts hooligans sneaking out and re-appearing minutes later in the Cowshed for what was a medium-grade pagger.

In 1994, Wayne Foster won a fourth-round right at the death and I guess his celebrations on the Easter Road perimeter fencing must already have been uprated to an ascent of the Eiger’s north face in the minds of Jam Tarts fans as young as I was in ’71. Foster later became a postie although presumably not the wimp who once refused to deliver to my hoose on account of a mildly unkempt hedge.

The longest delay before another cup clash for half a century ended in 2006 and, quite honestly, I could have waited a little longer for what transpired in that Hampden semi – say, another hundred years. Zibi Malkowski was Hibs’ keeper on April Fools’ Day (natch) and after that Paul Hartley hat-trick, they’d have been better with Ziggy Stardust, even with the screwed-up eyes and screwed-down hairdo.

We’re almost up to date and there was still time for a greater ignominy. In 2009, back at Easter Road in the fourth round, Steven Fletcher tackled like a striker and, according to Hibs manager Mixu Paatelainen, Christophe Berra “jumped like a brown trout” to ensure a red card. It’s bad to lose three cup derbies in a row. It’s bad to not have won the trophy for 110 years. But letting that galoot Christian Nade score?

Ernie Winchester, please forgive me.