Hopeless? We march on

There was a familiar, almost comfortingly predictable cry that settled over the nation yesterday afternoon, shortly after the whistle sounded on Scotland's disappointing 2-0 defeat against the Czech Republic.

"It's the hope that kills you" the cynics declared, perhaps into a comforting pint of something cold.

But that wasn't entirely true, was it? Yes, it had been wonderful to qualify for a men's tournament – our first since 1998. But we'd certainly done that the hard way, via play-offs and penalties. Were we hopeful then, or just emotional at being back on the big stage?

We went into yesterday's game with – at best – a delight at being at the party, and a quiet confidence we might have a chance. We were left disappointed by a deserved defeat.

But it came against another small nation, with modest dreams of their own. We know these are always the games we lose. The ones we win... well, those are always against the bigger boys. Think France in 2007. The Netherlands in '78. England, Wembley '67. Or '77. We have another one of those just around the corner.

So let others talk of crushed hopes, and the agony of defeat. We accept the disappointment, but march on with a twinkle in our eyes, a mischievous sense that perhaps our moment in this tournament has yet to come. Just don't call it hope.