BATTLE OF THE BLUES BROS
Chelsea pair’s feisty tussle sums up national rivalry
IF England versus Scotland lived up to its billing as the Battle of Britain then Mason Mount versus Billy Gilmour encapsulated the war in miniature.
The two diminutive Chelsea midfielders spent a tumultuous evening tussling, shoving and scrapping with each other, their club friendship scattered to the four winds.
It was a lightweight contest but a feisty one. Both sides knew that to win an attritional, physical game they had to win the fight first – even the creative players.
Gilmour’s overdue elevation was intended to give the Scots more subtlety than in their opening game against the Czech Republic but the plan could only work if he got on the ball. Mount made it his mission to ensure that did not happen in a claustrophobic first half.
Every time the 20-year-old tried to find a pocket of space to receive the ball he found Mount prowling close by. He was chased and harried, badgered and bothered; the only time he found clear air was to take a corner. Mount was a study in perpetual motion yet still found the energy to be England’s main positive influence on the ball – virtually their only one for long periods until Jack Grealish came on to join him.
It was his vision which unlocked the Scotland defence twice before the break with two fine passes to Raheem Sterling which the Manchester City striker should have done more with.
It was also Mount’s corner from the right which picked out John Stones only for the defender’s header to cannon against the post. The watching David Beckham would have approved of that delivery if not some of the ones that followed. The second half had more by way of space but still precious few chances.
Mount stepped inside Gilmour to unleash England’s first goalbound shot of the match, forcing a good save from David Marshall.
To that point it had been the Scotland fans who had more than held their own in the shouting match. There will be few off-pitch sights at these Euros more diverting than the Tartan Army on tour.
The exodus to London from north of the border released kilted chaos on the capital with thousands travelling without tickets just to be
part of the land grab. Having travelled in hope, they yearned to be able to say they were there when Scotland beat England for the first time in the 21st century.
For a decent proportion they might not have remembered the game too clearly whatever the outcome. The liquid intake was frightening. If an army marches on its stomach, this one did so full of Tennent’s.
‘No Scotland, no party’ as the sweatshirts pointed out. Outnumbered they might have been inside Wembley but they certainly made their presence felt even though when God Save The Queen rang out there was no doubt who had the home advantage. It was only a quarter full butWembley shook.
The flags of St George were out in force, draped over forcibly empty seats. All corners of England were represented including the northern border. The Berwick Rangers On Tour sign made clear the allegiance of the club that plays in Scotland’s Lowland League.
It was no night for neutrals. The relentless rain, the fervent backdrop and the pace if not the precision of the game made it a distinctly British affair.
As for the Euros, they continue today.