Rollercoaster ride for the Tartan Army
It feels like the whole of Planet Scotland has gone Tartan Army barmy . . . and with good reason.
If Ayrshire’s Stevie Clarke can put a few results together over the next fortnight or more – it will be a psychological shot in the nation’s arm to rival the physical wonders of Pfizer our Astra Zeneca!
After the last 15 months or so, our wee country could use a boost.
And nothing raises Scotland’s spirits like a bit of sporting success. It’s been a long time coming.
I was in St Etienne in 1998 where we were scheduled to play Morocco in a final group stage match in the World Cup.
We would see off the sand dancers, Brazil put the nut in Norway – and we’d be off to Marseilles for a last 16 game against Italy.
I could almost smell the Bouillabaisse wafting 100 miles north from the harbourside restaurants in the famous French port. Sadly, the others teams had been given a different script.
Norway beat Brazil, the camel riders gave Scotland the hump . . . and the dream was over.
After the game, in our opentopped tartan bus, I recall the driver pointedly turning his road map upside down.
After 90 minutes of misery, we were heading north to The Channel instead of south to the Med! Sacre flippin’ bleur
Our only consolation was to think that the next four years would go past in a flash and we’d all meet again at the World Cup in 2002.
Little did we realise that children born that year – 1998 – would celebrate their coming-of-age birthdays before we’d see Scotland in a major finals again.
But hey . . . we’re here . . . at last! Unfortunately we got off to an underwhelming start with Monday’s 2-0 loss against the Czech Republic .
But despite the slow start, we know that the Tartan Army will be rubbing their hands at the prospect of England at Wembley on Friday.
On Sunday, we yawned our way through England v Croatia.
We broke the boredom by wondering what the best result could be for Scotland’s hopes of qualification.
No-one could work it out! By Monday morning though, England were on top of the group with three points. For England fans – box ticked.
For Scottish sporting fans, it’s never that simple.
We’ve been raised on Wales scoring a last minute try at Murrayfield or Andy Murray dropping serve at 4 – 4 in the final set.
I’ve been fortunate enough to travel the world on Tartan Army duty.
From Reykjavik to Rio, Dublin to Dortmund, you think you’ve seen it all . . . until the next time!
One day I’ll get around to a book of Tartan Army adventures . . . but they’d probably file it under “fiction”! And I’ll finish with an example! Scotland were playing Italy in the east coast city of Bari in 2007.
The night rained heavily on the Scotland fans – and Italy’s mercurial Luca Toni reigned supreme on Italy’s scoresheet. 0 – 2.
The bedraggled footsoldiers headed for their buses after the game while our group joined the sodden swarm at the nearest taxi rank.
There were five of us – including Spud with his bagpipes – but the driver used his fingers to signal he only had room for four.
We waved the bagpipes at him – and he indicated he’d click open his boot for them.
The bagpipes went in the boot . . . and so the did bagpiper!
That left four of us for the taxi seats - it was a masterstroke! For the first mile back into town we just sat there, giggling like five-year-olds. It was then the taxi began to fill . . . with a familiar strain.
It was “Flower of Scotland” . . . coming from the boot!
The driver looked perplexed. “We have a radio. . . RADIO”! we told him. But he said something in Italian that clearly meant we had been rumbled. At Bari city centre, he pulled up in front of group of gun-totting Polizia Stradale.
The driver leapt out and rushed to open the boot – constables crowded round.
Sensing our impending doom, the pissed-piper had moved on to a rendition of“Flowers of the Forest”.
It was then the policemen reached to their belts and drew out . . . their mobile phones!.
They were in fits of laughter – and ordered the piper to carry on playing while they took their videos of him sitting in the boot.
The smiling driver did the swame. And he waved us away when we offered him his fare.
“No . . No . . buy beer!” he laughed. Two hours later, in bar somewhere in Bari, a group of Italian men walked in and waved over to us.
It turned out to be the same police officers – now offduty.
They showed us their little videos and demanded “You play pipes – we buy beers!”
There’s never a dull moment with the Tartan Army.
And let’s all hope its smiles all the way for the rest of Euro 2020.
There is never a dull moment with the Tartan Army. Let’s hope it’s smiles for the rest of Euro 2020