HOW SWEET TO HAVE THIS SHOT AT TRUE SALVATION: READ JOHN GREECHAN
THERE was no heavenly choir singing sweet hymns of angelic praise, just half a stadium of diehards bellowing joy and relief into a bleak November sky.
But do not mistake a lack of melodic harmony for a dearth of emotional heft. Every single soul in attendance knew exactly what this meant.
After wandering in the wilderness for 20 years and more, those lucky enough to be at Hampden on a freezing wet night enjoyed a moment of blinding deliverance.
For a football nation that once seemed irretrievably lost, no promise of salvation ever felt so sweet.
If a place in paradise has not yet been attained, standing within two almighty heaves of that longed-for destination certainly seems like one giant leap for Scotland.
So we can save the hoopla and hype, the scramble to secure tickets and the nationwide buzz of wild-eyed anticipation, for the play-offs. Play-offs. Can you believe it?
After what we witnessed last night, yes, anything is believable. James Forrest’s hat-trick. Allan McGregor’s save. You know the one. The nail-biting drama of just, only just, hanging on.
Over two matches, in Albania and now Glasgow, a team has been born. And a nation should rejoice.
It matters only a little how Scotland reached this point, what false dawns and dark nights we’ve suffered along the way.
What really matters is that we are just 180 minutes away from qualifying for the finals of Euro 2020.
Two one-off matches against teams lower than us in the Nations League rankings.
With at least one, possibly both, of those games to be played here at Hampden.
No England, no Holland. This won’t be like the semi-rigged play-offs for Euro 2000 or 2004.
As things stand, Finland lie in wait first of all. Then Norway or Serbia. Eminently beatable.
In this mood, the Scots should fear no one.
So, even if we don’t qualify from pot three through the more traditional group route, we’ve got that golden chance.
Last night’s brave, ballsy, come-from-behind win gives us a safety net. The best and most likely route into a major finals for the first time since France 98.
Maybe we got lucky, with all those injuries and withdrawals forcing Alex McLeish to field the perfect starting XI for both decisive group matches.
Yet there’s genius in not looking gift horses in the gob. If you find your best team by accident, at least don’t tinker just for the sake of making yourself feel clever.
McLeish did the right things, the odd surprising substitution aside. And he was rewarded.
The pity is that more weren’t here to see it, with the manager’s appeal to fans to turn out always likely to fall on deaf ears.
Blame the unfamiliar nature of the Nations League. The lack of realisation about what was at stake. Or just a general apathy, after so long in the international wilderness.
The players had plenty of excuses, then, to lower themselves to the occasion. And it looked as if they might do that, when Beram Kayal scored just nine minutes in.
Now we’d find out what this Scotland side were made of. In the case of Forrest, at least, the answer is pure gold.
The Celtic winger was involved in all of the home team’s finest moments, even before his brilliantly-taken equaliser with just over ten minutes of the first half remaining. Nobody deserved it more.
Suddenly, Hampden was a ghost ground no longer. The crowd sprang to life, singing about walking a million miles for just one more goal — without a hint of hyperbole.
Oh, how we craved a second to put us in the lead. Oh, how the entire nation celebrated when Forrest — who else? — took that superb pass from Ryan Christie in his stride, before finishing low and hard beyond Ariel Harush.
Even that was topped by his third, the clincher in a performance of swagger and steel, character and craft.
What a rich seam of scoring form this guy has unearthed in the dark blue jersey.
What might he and some of the others here achieve, given a platform to perform at a major finals?
Find us a more mobile striker and a more natural right-back, and maybe our boys might even be more than just tourists on their return to the big time.
Hah, getting carried away already … that’s peak Scotland, right there. So let’s just settle for getting there. An absolute imperative.
Be honest, now, it’s impossible to imagine — even for a moment — the horror of our national team
not qualifying for the 2020 European Championship Finals.
Two group games, plus one fixture from the round of 16, will be played at Hampden.
If Scotland make it, in other words, they’ll be playing at least twice at their own home ground.
And, although UEFA may reserve the right to gerrymander the fixture list in their own unique way, the odds are high that one of those matches will be against England. Oh yeah. Bring it.
That’s an opportunity that cannot be allowed to pass.
Missing a party in our own house is a fate we could — nay, should — now avoid.
And although plenty will happen before this quirky new qualification concept is played out in March of 2020, we may well look back on this inglorious night in the Glasgow rain as the defining moment when we reclaimed our footballing pride.
Not to the sound of seraphs and cherubs plucking at their Elysian harps, but grown men roaring with childlike glee, shouting along to some piece of nonsensical pop as they applauded their heroes on a lap of honour.
After so long suffering in near silence, nothing ever sounded quite so sweet.