Next time . . . hoof it out of the park

THE full-time whistle blew and Scotland wept.

If football is our national game, then shooting ourselves in the foot is our national pastime.

We just can’t seem to help ourselves. We are the masters of glorious failure. The experts of high expectation and failure to deliver.

The undisputed champions of hollowing out defeat from a guaranteed victory. The supreme defenders of the faith of “Wee wuz robbed” and titleholders of knocking the teeth out of the gift horse’s gob.

And so it proved again last Saturday at Hampden Park, when Scotland, with only 180 seconds on the clock to hold out for a historic victory against the Auld Enemy Engerland, decided to play football when hoofing the ball out of the park was easier.

No, we decided to commit football hari-kari instead, and allowed them to equalise, busting our chances of making it to the World Cup finals. Gutted doesn’t come close. Oh, Flower of Scotland, when will we see your likes again? When, indeed!

But live in hope!