SILENT TREATMENT
Apathy amongst Tartan Army in loss to Costa Rica proves McLeish has much work to do in reigniting patriotic passion
ANATION shrugs. That’s the most damning thing. Not the smattering of boos from a handful of vocal critics. But the silence of a majority who can’t even force themselves to care.
One game into his second stint as Scotland boss, the biggest challenge facing Alex McLeish should be clear to a blind man.
He faces a monumental struggle to make our national football team relevant again.
To persuade the undecided and uninspired that hopes should be raised, hearts set a-fluttering.
If he can’t get the football-loving element in a football-mad country to invest emotionally in the best players eligible and willing to represent us all, his time at the helm is going to be one long, dreary, easily-ignored slog.
Already, it does not look good. From the muted response to McLeish being appointed as third or fourth choice for the gig, to the low-key nothingness of his first game in charge, it’s hard to imagine this as the early days of some glorious revolution.
Nor does it help that the man himself has been uncharacteristically unclear in his message so far.
As he rather wistfully bemoans the plummeting expectations of supporters beaten down by experience, for instance, is he suggesting that the Tartan Army should raise their sights in hope of future glories to come?
At least he acknowledges the reality of the current mood. He gets points for not hiding behind that old excuse about Scotland fans being demanding.
The idea that they live in some sepia-tinted fantasy world, a realm where crying ‘Gerrintaethem’ would be enough to see off any opponent, hasn’t enjoyed any real traction for a decade or more now.
But it hasn’t stopped certain predecessors from trotting it out with flagrant frequency, disingenuously calling for ‘reality checks’ among fans all too familiar with the harsh facts of sporting life.
McLeish’s honesty extends to his admission that there may be more ‘pain’ to come while he knocks this group into shape.
Well, there is a reason why we Scots probably have more words to describe sporting anguish, heartbreak and trauma than the Inuits have for snow. A little more won’t break us.
But it’s hardly surprising that more and more have decided to switch off, emotionally, from even paying attention to Scotland.
Those of us who insist on watching every damned minute, well, we’re finding it harder to make a case for keeping the faith.
On Friday night at Hampden, it seemed obvious that the players weren’t applying whatever game plan McLeish had put in place.
He admitted as much afterwards, pleading the novelty of the situation as a reason for crossed wires.
More concerning was the lack of energy. If ever there is a night when you’d expect players to be bouncing off the walls, it’s the first game of a new gaffer.
Yet there was a timidity about Scotland, an uncertainty that cannot be explained away either by the handful of new faces in the starting XI or the quality of Costa Rica as opposition.
That can’t have been what McLeish wanted. In which case, is he getting his message across?
Admittedly, it was a meaningless game. Like most friendlies.
These fixtures often feel like playing a slot machine that has been programmed never to pay out.
There’s no point in investing too much, nothing to be gained by expending great energy and expertise studying the wheels and whistles. Ultimately, you’re going to be left empty-handed.
But the sheer dullness of Friday night actually means that a few more will be tuning into tomorrow night’s bounce game in Budapest — just to see if there are any signs of improvement.
Hungary are extremely limited opposition, a team only just hanging on inside the world’s top 50.
They finished a whopping 14 points behind both Portugal and Switzerland in their World Cup qualifying group, dropping points against Faroe Islands along the way.
Winning this one won’t provoke dancing in the streets. Apathy will continue to rule, okay. Well, it would. If it could be bothered.
But all McLeish can do is continue to chip away. Let off the odd firework in the hope of attracting attention, maybe. Inject a little pizzazz into a moribund scene.
There are actually some local examples, although fitba’ folk might not enjoy the comparison, of how things can be turned around.
Not so long ago, the Scotland rugby team were inconsequential. Now they’re everybody’s favourite group of free-flowing entertainers.
Oh, they’re still infuriating. Still all but guaranteed to break our hearts at the next World Cup.
But at least watching them is fun. You know that, at one point, you’re going to grin at the sheer audacity of something.
Back at the football? Gallows humour, the occasional burst of mocking laughter. But, mostly, just an awkward silence.