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The Courier
06-05-2025
- Sport
- The Courier
4 Raith Rovers players deserving of praise as 2 scoop club awards
With Raith Rovers' campaign drawing to a frustrating climax, the club's awards night brought the curtain down on a turbulent season. Whilst the team's burning ambition of a promotion play-off place slipped away in agonising fashion, despite the impressive 5-1 win at Hampden on Friday night, individual accolades were dished out 24 hours later. And it is hard to argue with any of the decisions. Fans' favourite Dylan Easton was the big winner, scooping the supporters', coaches' and players' player of the year trophies. Finlay Pollock, Dylan Easton and Lewis Stevenson (left to right) were the big winners at Raith Rovers' player of the year awards ceremony. Image: Ryan Fleming Photography / RRFC. Lewis Stevenson earned the 'best individual performance' award for his display at home to Ayr United in November and goal of the season for his sensational maiden Raith strike in the 3-3 draw with Hamilton Accies in September. On-loan Hearts attacker Finlay Pollock, whose season was unfortunately curtailed by a hamstring injury, took the young player of the year. Many – such as Lewis Vaughan, Callum Smith, Jack Hamilton, Scott Brown and Shaun Byrne – were hampered by injury and the likes of Jamie Gullan, Jordan Doherty, Aiden Marsh and Josh Rae only arrived for the second half of the season. Courier Sport has taken a look at those who deserve an honourable mention from a difficult season played under three different managers. Jordan Doherty (right) in action during Raith Rovers' Scottish Cup defeat to Celtic. Image: Alan Harvey / SNS Group. Jordan Doherty Signed by Neill Collins, Doherty has been an ever-present for successor Barry Robson. The Irishman has featured in all 20 matches since his contract kicked in at the start of January and has started 19 of those. Dependable at full-back, wing-back, centre-half or central midfield, the 24-year-old has proved a shrewd signing for Raith. With a pre-season under his belt this summer, there will be hope the former Tampa Bay Rowdies and Bohemians player can be even better next term. Paul Hanlon (No.4) scored his first goal for Raith Rovers in the Fife derby win over Dunfermline in March. Image: Ross Parker / SNS Group. Paul Hanlon The former Hibernian stalwart was hampered by a hip issue last summer and was absent from the start of the season. The marquee signing only missed three league matches, however, and has been imperious at times at the heart of the Raith defence. He was a significant part of the rearguard improvements that saw Rovers keep five clean sheets as they finished the season with a run of ten unbeaten games. Now 35, the defender's experience will again be crucial next term. Ross Matthews takes to the microphone following his testimonial match for Raith Rovers in October. Image: Ross Parker / SNS Group. Ross Matthews Like Doherty, another who was pressed into action in different positions earlier in the season because of injuries. However, the vice-captain has been a key figure in his preferred position in central midfield. He started all but the first of Robson's 20 matches at the helm and his 39 appearances make it his most consistent season in the last three. The 29-year-old is out of contract this summer but will be optimistic he has done enough for an extension with his only senior club. Kai Montagu has made 17 appearances for Raith Rovers this season. Image: Paul Devlin / SNS Group. Kai Montagu Montagu arrived as a complete unknown from East Kilbride last summer. It is fair to say his 17 appearances, including two starts, have made this the teenager's breakthrough season in senior football. Although used only sparingly off the bench, he has been given game-time by Ian Murray, Collins and Robson and shown plenty of potential. His performances were enough to earn a new, longer deal in February that ties him to Rovers until 2027.
Scottish Sun
03-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scottish Sun
Rangers hero Duncan Ferguson on life in prison, including emotional letter he got from nine-year-old Wayne Rooney
The big striker had the reputation for being a hard man, but he feared he would be slashed - or worse - behind bars BEHIND BARS Rangers hero Duncan Ferguson on life in prison, including emotional letter he got from nine-year-old Wayne Rooney Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) DUNCAN FERGUSON has opened up on his Barlinnie hell - and the morale-boosting letter he got from a nine-year-old Wayne Rooney. Ferguson spent 44 weeks in the hard-as-nails Glasgow prison after a headbutt on Raith Rovers' Jock McStay when he was on probation. Sign up for the Rangers newsletter Sign up 4 Duncan Ferguson has opened up on life in prison in his new book Credit: Reuters 4 He was jailed for a 'Glasgow kiss' on John McStay Credit: SNS The Scot had followed manager Walter Smith from Rangers to Everton by the time he completed his jail sentence and became a cult hero with the Goodison Park fans, helping them avoid relegation in the 1994-95 campaign. A dyed-in-the-wool Toffees fan who had looked up to him felt compelled to write to the striker after he was locked up in October 1995. That young man was a certain Wayne Rooney. And Ferguson, in his new book BIG DUNC: The Upfront Autobiography, has revealed how he was uplifted by the messages of support from punters whilst imprisoned. He also opened up on his fears of being slashed whilst in the slammer, including a petrifying ordeal with Barlinnie's barber. In an excerpt via the Daily Record, Ferguson has recalled what life in prison was like for him during his three-month stint behind bars. He said: "My daily prison routine began with no frills - prisoners woke up at 6.30am and headed to the communal shower area. "Nothing could have prepared me for discovering what that pot in the corner of my room was really for, as I stood in line watching men depositing faeces and urine from their chamber pots into big sinks. "What did I expect? Proper sanitation? A disgrace, it was. "From that morning onwards I would worry about who was standing at my back. Leeds legend Eddie Gray on 49ers' Rangers takeover and influence of Paraag Marathe "I needed eyes in the back of my head to avoid some scarface pouring his p*** and s*** on me. "They all had scars inside Barlinnie, you could get cut to ribbons for £2 of credit on a phonecard. "I was told about toothbrushes with razor blades moulded into the plastic - the weapon of choice. "After slopping out, it was breakfast at 7am back in our cells - I had a boiled egg while sitting on the edge of my bed. "Then the cell doors were opened and I steeled myself. "'Should I leave my cell?' I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking of the knives that might be waiting. "'Come on, Dunc, take that step.' "I heard whispering: 'There's Dunc.' "And then a louder voice from across the landing: 'D'ya want your hair cut, big fella?' "A boy wearing the regulation red shirt with white stripes stood there, holding a pair of scissors. "How would I react? 'Yes, no problem, mate,' I said, and I walked across the gallery and over to the chair where I sat in front of him. "I felt sick, this guy could stick his scissors in my throat. It was the most frightened I've ever been. "All of a sudden his hands dropped down on my shoulders, and I could see the scissors out of the corner of my eye. Just one stabbing motion away from my jugular. "'What will it be, big fella?' "'Short back and sides, wee man.'" "And he began to cut my hair. It broke the ice. If I was going to get slashed, at least it wouldn't be by the barber of Barlinnie." Ferguson admitted that the amount of letters he received ran into the thousands. Although, not all were in positive sentiment. But nine-year-old kid Rooney - at this time completely unknown as to who he'd become - was one who did express his support for Big Dunc. Ferguson said: "What got me through the long, lonely nights in Barlinnie was that I must have received 10,000 letters. Incredible. "I killed time reading them all. Fans wishing me well and, yes, some expressing rather different sentiments. 4 Ferguson was something of a cult hero at Everton by the time he was sent to prison Credit: News Group Newspapers Ltd "A young boy called Wayne Rooney wrote. He must have been only nine or 10. I was an Everton player by this stage. I wrote him one back, without a clue who this passionate football fan would turn out to be. (I've heard Wayne still has the letter today.) "Some people sent me books, books about pigeons, books about football, books about breaking out of prison. They sent me a blow-up sex doll, which got confiscated. But the letters I treasured most were from Evertonians like Wayne. "Looking back now, I still can't believe the top brass of Everton, my manager Joe Royle, club chairman Peter Johnson and director Clifford Finch, came to see me. "It was really nice of them, brave as well. "They came into the waiting room at Barlinnie, and it's like Beirut in there. A total war zone people bringing drugs, and misery and menace in the air. "Having that support from the high-ups at Everton and the fans meant the world." 4 Wayne Rooney would burst onto the scene at Everton in a few years' time Credit: PA:Empics Sport Keep up to date with ALL the latest news and transfers at the Scottish Sun football page
Daily Record
02-05-2025
- Sport
- Daily Record
Duncan Ferguson's "blood ran cold" as prison guards marched him to be banged up in Barlinnie
"Outside, I was Big Dunc. Striker. Everton and Scotland targetman. Inside, I was the target. And I was terrified." Duncan Ferguson has told how his 'blood ran cold' as he was taken handcuffed into the notorious Barlinnie jail. With a reputation as the hard man of football, the striker had been sentenced to three months for headbutting a rival player. Now 53, Ferguson reveals in his new book: 'That first night it was the longest night of my life.' I believe I'm a brave man, tough physically and mentally, but when I was led handcuffed into HMP Barlinnie on October 11, 1995, my blood ran cold. I was only 23 but my life was on hold, even at risk. I was entering Britain's most notorious prison with its huge stone walls, barbed wire wound around the top and forbidding metal doors that had all the charm of the brass plate on a coffin. Outside, I was Big Dunc. Striker. Everton and Scotland targetman. Inside, I was the target. And I was terrified. I'd just lost my appeal against a three-month sentence for what the courts claimed was an assault on another player, Raith Rovers' John McStay, at Ibrox Park on 16 April 1994. I hardly grazed the boy, I promise you. It happened while I'd been playing for Rangers in Glasgow and I just ended up feeling like some people in the Scottish judiciary didn't like the club. They were probably delighted to see me banged up in Barlinnie. As I entered the prison, I thought, 'What on earth is happening to me? What's happening to my life? How has it come to this?' Yes, I connected with the lad, but to face this hell because of that incident felt terribly unfair. I was marched through the small, dingy reception area and into the holding cubicles, known as doggy boxes. I sat for several hours on a bench inside, with food and cigarette butts on the floor, and graffiti on the walls, surrounded by men with 'Mars bars' – scars. Everywhere I looked I sensed menace. My stomach knotted as I completed the cold, clinical elements of being processed. Clothes off. An invasive inspection. A lingering sense of humiliation. Unsmiling guards gave me my number – 12718 – and handed me my gear, a red shirt with white stripes and blue denim trousers. Every part of the process dehumanised me further. Everyone in Barlinnie knew I was coming. It was all over the news I'd lost my appeal. I was the first British footballer imprisoned for something that had happened on the pitch. Three months. The 'brevity' of my sentence meant I couldn't be transferred to an open prison or an English jail. It deepened my anger at the verdict. But my new neighbours weren't bothered about the rights and wrongs of the decision. They just wanted to see this famous footballer. The one who'd broken the British transfer record with a £4million move to Rangers from Dundee United. The one who had played for Scotland. And the one who had helped Everton win the FA Cup within a year of coming to the club. What a fall from grace. Earlier in the day I'd handed my watch, rings and some cash to my dad as I left the courtroom in Edinburgh. God only knows what my mum and dad were feeling, with everything I was putting them through. All I had in my pocket was £5 to buy some phonecards – prison currency – as I was taken by guards from the doggy box towards my cell in D Hall. It was late afternoon, early evening. Processing had taken three hours. I was classed as a Category D prisoner, which meant I was considered unlikely to make an effort to escape. The only effort I made was not to betray the fear growing inside me as I stepped on to the metal spiral staircase connecting the ground floor to the four floors above it. I was still a kid in many ways. Hearing the keys clanking and the locks rattling shut was terrifying. I'd just lost my freedom. But I was determined not to lose my mind. I'm strong, I told myself. And I needed to be. The name Barlinnie carried a grim association, with condemned men imprisoned for crimes ranging from gangland violence to multiple murders, the Lockerbie bombing to paedophile depravity. The name alone was enough to send a chill down the spine. Mine, anyway. Barlinnie is home, they say, to Europe's busiest methadone clinic, with statistics suggesting up to 400 inmates are injected daily with the heroin substitute. The atmosphere was claustrophobic and oppressive, exacerbated by chronic overcrowding. Slopping out, an unspeakably degrading practice, not to mention a fundamental breach of human rights, was abolished only in 2004. Barlinnie's uncompromising reputation meant I was well aware I'd have to stand up for myself from the outset. Predators prey on the weak and there are plenty of both in there – with no means of escape until your time is up. I looked around my cell on that first day and quickly took in the window with metal bars, a bed, a rickety little table and a pot in the corner. (I honestly didn't know what the pot was for at first. I would find out the next morning. No en-suite here.) On that first evening, lights out came at 10pm prompt, but then the night sounds began. It wasn't long before a thick, sinister Glaswegian voice cut the atmosphere like a knife. I'm Protestant, at a Protestant club, Rangers. Being in a prison in Glasgow, with half the joint supporting Catholic club Celtic, meant sectarianism flowed through Barlinnie like sewage from a broken pipe. 'Ya dirty Orange b*****d, Ferguson, I'm gonna f***in' kill ya!' Several more brave boys took up the cudgels. 'Ya'll get it in the mornin', ya big Orange ****!' 'We're gonna slash your f***in' face!' I sat at the end of my bed listening to all these threats, shaking. On it went. It was hard to deal with, it wasn't how I was brought up. Sectarian songs weren't the soundtrack of my life in my home town of Stirling, not like in Glasgow. In fairness, if I'd been a Celtic player the Rangers fans would have been just as tough on me. The dire warnings continued unchecked until a single heavy Glaswegian voice boomed out with all the authority of a man accustomed to being listened to. 'Shut up, the lot of ya. I want to get my head down and sleep. The next f***er who opens his mouth, he'll answer to me in the mornin'.' The whole nick went quiet. Bang, dead. I never found out who he was, and I would learn that those boys tend to protect their anonymity. But I would also discover that during my time in Barlinnie there were certain people looking after me. I never heard another word directed at me that night, not a peep. But, believe me, it was the longest night of my life as the images of a blade kept me awake. Welcome to hell.
Daily Mirror
02-05-2025
- Sport
- Daily Mirror
DUNCAN FERGUSON I feared being slashed inside Britain's most notorious prison - it was the longest night of my life
Everton hero Duncan Ferguson was sentenced to three months at the infamous Barlinnie prison in Glasgow - now he speaks for the first time on his terrifying time inside I believe I'm a brave man, tough physically and mentally, but when I was led handcuffed into HMP Barlinnie on October 11, 1995, my blood ran cold. I was only 23 but my life was on hold, even at risk. I was entering Britain's most notorious prison with its huge stone walls, barbed wire wound around the top and forbidding metal doors that had all the charm of the brass plate on a coffin. Outside, I was Big Dunc. Striker. Everton and Scotland targetman. Inside, I was the target. And I was terrified. I'd just lost my appeal against a three-month sentence for what the courts claimed was an assault on another player, Raith Rovers' John McStay, at Ibrox Park on 16 April 1994. I hardly grazed the boy, I promise you. It happened while I'd been playing for Rangers in Glasgow and I just ended up feeling like some people in the Scottish judiciary didn't like the club. They were probably delighted to see me banged up in Barlinnie. As I entered the prison, I thought, 'What on earth is happening to me? What's happening to my life? How has it come to this?' Yes, I connected with the lad, but to face this hell because of that incident felt terribly unfair. I was marched through the small, dingy reception area and into the holding cubicles, known as doggy boxes. I sat for several hours on a bench inside, with food and cigarette butts on the floor, and graffiti on the walls, surrounded by men with 'Mars bars' – scars. Everywhere I looked I sensed menace. My stomach knotted as I completed the cold, clinical elements of being processed. Clothes off. An invasive inspection. A lingering sense of humiliation. Unsmiling guards gave me my number – 12718 – and handed me my gear, a red shirt with white stripes and blue denim trousers. Every part of the process dehumanised me further. Everyone in Barlinnie knew I was coming. It was all over the news I'd lost my appeal. I was the first British footballer imprisoned for something that had happened on the pitch. Three months. The 'brevity' of my sentence meant I couldn't be transferred to an open prison or an English jail. It deepened my anger at the verdict. But my new neighbours weren't bothered about the rights and wrongs of the decision. They just wanted to see this famous footballer. The one who'd broken the British transfer record with a £4million move to Rangers from Dundee United. The one who had played for Scotland. And the one who had helped Everton win the FA Cup within a year of coming to the club. What a fall from grace. Earlier in the day I'd handed my watch, rings and some cash to my dad as I left the courtroom in Edinburgh. God only knows what my mum and dad were feeling, with everything I was putting them through. All I had in my pocket was £5 to buy some phonecards – prison currency – as I was taken by guards from the doggy box towards my cell in D Hall. It was late afternoon, early evening. Processing had taken three hours. I was classed as a Category D prisoner, which meant I was considered unlikely to make an effort to escape. The only effort I made was not to betray the fear growing inside me as I stepped on to the metal spiral staircase connecting the ground floor to the four floors above it. I was still a kid in many ways. Hearing the keys clanking and the locks rattling shut was terrifying. I'd just lost my freedom. But I was determined not to lose my mind. I'm strong, I told myself. And I needed to be. The name Barlinnie carried a grim association, with condemned men imprisoned for crimes ranging from gangland violence to multiple murders, the Lockerbie bombing to paedophile depravity. The name alone was enough to send a chill down the spine. Mine, anyway. Barlinnie is home, they say, to Europe's busiest methadone clinic, with statistics suggesting up to 400 inmates are injected daily with the heroin substitute. The atmosphere was claustrophobic and oppressive, exacerbated by chronic overcrowding. Slopping out, an unspeakably degrading practice, not to mention a fundamental breach of human rights, was abolished only in 2004. Barlinnie's uncompromising reputation meant I was well aware I'd have to stand up for myself from the outset. Predators prey on the weak and there are plenty of both in there – with no means of escape until your time is up.I looked around my cell on that first day and quickly took in the window with metal bars, a bed, a rickety little table and a pot in the corner. (I honestly didn't know what the pot was for at first. I would find out the next morning. No en-suite here.) On that first evening, lights out came at 10pm prompt, but then the night sounds began. It wasn't long before a thick, sinister Glaswegian voice cut the atmosphere like a knife. I'm Protestant, at a Protestant club, Rangers. Being in a prison in Glasgow, with half the joint supporting Catholic club Celtic, meant sectarianism flowed through Barlinnie like sewage from a broken pipe. 'Ya dirty Orange b*****d, Ferguson, I'm gonna f***in' kill ya!' Several more brave boys took up the cudgels. 'Ya'll get it in the mornin', ya big Orange ****!' 'We're gonna slash your f***in' face!' I sat at the end of my bed listening to all these threats, shaking. On it went. It was hard to deal with, it wasn't how I was brought up. Sectarian songs weren't the soundtrack of my life in my home town of Stirling, not like in Glasgow. In fairness, if I'd been a Celtic player the Rangers fans would have been just as tough on me. The dire warnings continued unchecked until a single heavy Glaswegian voice boomed out with all the authority of a man accustomed to being listened to. 'Shut up, the lot of ya. I want to get my head down and sleep. The next f***er who opens his mouth, he'll answer to me in the mornin'.' The whole nick went quiet. Bang, dead. I never found out who he was, and I would learn that those boys tend to protect their anonymity. But I would also discover that during my time in Barlinnie there were certain people looking after me. I never heard another word directed at me that night, not a peep. But, believe me, it was the longest night of my life as the images of a blade kept me awake. Welcome to hell. Big Dunc: The Upfront Autobiography by Duncan Ferguson, with Henry Winter, is published on 8th May by Century Join our new WhatsApp community and receive your daily dose of Mirror Football content. 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The Courier
28-04-2025
- Sport
- The Courier
Boy, 13, charged with possessing a weapon at Raith Rovers match
A 13-year-old boy has been charged with allegedly possessing a weapon at Raith Rovers' match over the weekend. The incident took place as the Kirkcaldy side faced Greenock Morton at Starks Park on Saturday afternoon. A 16-year-old was also charged with possession of pyrotechnics. Footage shared online shows a large group of football supporters coming together outside the Pratt Street stadium. Police Scotland has confirmed an investigation into the disorder is still ongoing. A spokesperson said: 'Officers responded to reports of disorder in Kirkcaldy on Saturday. 'A 16-year-old male was charged for possession of pyrotechnics, whilst a 13-year-old male was charged for possession of a weapon. 'Further enquiries into the disorder remain ongoing.' The William Hill Championship match between Raith and Morton finished 1-1.
