The last time Scotland lost a tournament-opening glamour game, they scrambled to a 1-1 draw in the second encounter against a country known for snow-capped peaks, and then for the group final, they went to a city beginning with S. I was there.
Stuttgart now replaces St. Etienne from 1998.
I’m not in “Schhhtuttgart” – the proper pronunciation, as Ally McCoist would say it – but the rest of my countrymen appear to be. It doesn’t matter. I feel like I’m there while “Flower of Scotland” blasts from my television.
Actually, I feel like I’m at a 1970s cinema with Sensurround, the really cranked-up sound system for disaster movie Earthquake, which simulates the earth splitting in two.
All we had to worry about was whether Charlton Heston could leap from the screen and catch the Kia-Ora vendor before she fell through the stall breach! For here was the only movie that truly mattered, with its old storyline and the prospect of the same sad ending scene that had drove the nation insane for half a century.
Scottish dreams ended at Frankfurt in 1974, Mendoza in 1978, Malaga in 1982, Turin in 1990, and St Etienne.
We didn’t need reminding, but we’ve been collecting video from final group games to create our own disaster movies throughout the campaign.
Could the 2024 sequel be different? No McCoist, this is another BBC match, but Gabby Logan wants it to be so. ”
It’s now or never,” she says, initiating transmission. John McGinn, beneath the stadium, looks wabbit already and explains why: the Tartan Army showed up outside the team hotel, interrupting the midday snooze with their bagpipes. But here’s Steve Clarke.
Steve-o, The Stevester, give us a smile! No, he remains his normal careful, clipped, and contrarian self.
David Moyes (“We’re a really small nation”) and Rachel Corsie (“I’ve hardly been able to eat all day”) were in the studio.
I was hoping for Joe Hart to reprise the previous panel, but I’ll have to settle for Alan Shearer instead. Sooking up, Shearer hails Scotland’s fans, whom he had met in Germany. Were they glad to see him? “No, not really!” “Flower of Scotland” is wonderful.
As wonderful as Cologne, but more anguished. McGinn has his chest out and his bum inside. Scott McKenna appears terrified. Captain Andy Robertson demonstrates the “eyes of steel” that Moyes requires.
Liam McLeod provides commentary. Actually, he’s the anti-commentator, not discussing the play. His fact-spewing must be perplexing to non-fanatics caught up in the massive Scottish effort to clear the streets.
Nonetheless, he captures the atmosphere: “We do not want to go home just yet!” McGinn, who admits he has already had his legendary behind kicked by his dissatisfied head coach, is the most dangerous Scot this time – and the most fouled.
According to summariser Neil McCann, we are winning the pass count by 171 to 44. So, when can we claim our three points?
Unfortunately, there were no shots on goal or corners. During the interval, Moyes comments, “We’re going to have to be a little more exciting.” The cameras scanning the stands notice Sir Alex Ferguson.
Moyes adds, “Maybe the players need Fergie’s hair-dryer.” Logan then looks at his husband Kenny and kid Reuben. “Hang on, so who’s watering the plants and feeding the dogs?”
Many film titles begin “How to…” How do I get out of the groups? It’s complicated.
If major tournaments are parties, knockout is the party within a party, complete with laminated invites and the most squarely built security lunkheads at the door.
Scotland has a history of showing up to finals in jeans and trainers, if at all.
Did I mention complicated? The qualifying dilemma is the Tartan Army’s counterpart of the Riemann Hypothesis, which is widely regarded as the most difficult of all math questions. Yes, we can end as one of the best, or least-worst, third-placed teams, but what’s the difference? Which country has the best jokes? The most efficient train system? What are the bonniest hills?
To find ourselves in such scenario, we must win. As the action resumes, McCann asks for “more risk”. More Billy Gilmour would be beneficial, but in a stodgy battle, the Scots can’t get him on the ball.
Hungary, which initially shocked everyone by sitting back, no longer does so. Then, after 53 minutes, we had our first shot. (It sails into the crowd).
Even if the team fails to advance, the Tartan Army has already won the cup for the best fans. McGinn mentioned previously that the players were keen to maintain their end of the agreement and provide the supporters with the qualification they desired.
Some people who were about to return to work may have wondered if they could take another week off.
Or get away with an email informing the boss that they will be “WFH” (working from Hamburg, Hanover, or their favorite hansaplatz).
The Tartan Army, nervous, are the quietest they’ve ever been (at town squares, beerhalls, or sleeping). Every time there’s a shot of the audience, someone bites their nails. McGinn’s runaway bull mimicry inspires them.
This seems to be a critical stage for both sides.
Then, “Penalty!” The cry is the same in every house across the country, from Golspie to Girvan, according to McLeod’s scripted introduction. But it isn’t. Eh? So two desperate teams start throwing everything at each other.
Hungary struck a post. The Scottish players are like the piper in the Munich meme, who fell off a bar table but miraculously continued to play. And then – McLeod: “Disaster for Scotland!” – they fall off permanently.
Get related news on
sportchannel.co.uk
Leave a Reply