KEITH JACKSON
WHEN the fun stops, stop.
If only it was that easy then Scotland would have been spared the pride-swallowing ignominy of international football a long time ago.
Right now it does feel as if we are getting dangerously close to the point where the last flicker of hope is extinguished for good.
What was once an obligation, then a chore is starting to feel like a monumental waste of everyone’s time and effort.
There’s nothing to be enjoyed about it any more. Observing Scotland’s steady slide into oblivion is becoming an excruciating ordeal.
Barring some kind of supernatural event tonight against Belgium, something so extraordinary it shakes us all out of this apathy, they could call a referendum tomorrow and the vote would be a landslide.
Put it this way, there’s not a backstop in the world that could keep us locked in this torture chamber for a moment longer than necessary.
The truth is football fans in this country are already itching for the return of domestic affairs before a ball has been kicked in the second leg of this Group I double header which is now no more than a test of endurance.
If Scotland’s players can get in and out of the National Stadium tonight with their dignity still intact it will come as a relief amid the shoulder shrugging.
Even across the border, where England are emerging as a force to be reckoned with, supporters are losing the will to live during these international breaks.
After battering Bulgaria 4-0 on Saturday they were having phone-ins on the BBC to discuss scrapping qualification matches on the basis they have become so utterly bored winning them.
There is a resounding feeling of resentment that these games are getting in the way of the Premier League and placing it on hold for a fortnight at a time. It’s a similar situation up here but for very different reasons.
All of which is grossly unfair on Steve Clarke who has arrived just in time for rock bottom.
The desperate nature of that 2-1 defeat against Russia and Clarke’s apparent failure to make a difference has compounded the problems that were already piling up at Scotland’s door.
The angry jeers that rang out around Hampden at the final whistle provided proof even the most hard-core Scotland supporters are reaching the end of their patriotic tethers.
That’s not Clarke’s fault either but these fans arrived, albeit in dwindling numbers, clinging to the belief the new man might suddenly magic up some fresh reason for hope.
Wishful thinking maybe but not without some logic.
After all, if his organisational skills and attention to detail can take Kilmarnock from the bottom of the Premiership into Europe, then it stands to reason he can whip this Scotland side into better shape.
So when his players then contrived to blow an early lead and perform as if they had only just been introduced to one another an hour before kick-off, it slapped those believers back into a state of reality. That is why their fury was so loudly expressed.
If a miracle worker like Clarke cannot find a way to make this suffering stop then what is the point in holding on to the last faint wisps of hope?
Tonight the manager must attempt to offer up some sign that all is not just as bleak as it appeared to be on Friday night when what is left of the Tartan Army trudged out of its spiritual home having just taken