Scotland the Brave

Suddenly, Renton’s famous moorland observation doesn’t ring so true.

Last night, the stage was set at Hampden for yet another inglorious failure, but Scotland changed the script and wrote a different ending.

Scotland, managed by the taciturn Steve Clarke, beat Denmark, a side who, it should be remembered, are 18 points above us in world rankings, broke the mould of almost thirty years of failure and won handsomely, spectacularly, beautifully.

This was a fairy tale that Hans Christian Anderson couldn’t have made up. All over the pitch there were heroes. From brave wee Ben Doak who delivered the cross for McTominay’s wonderstrike, to John McGinn, who was on fire, to Craig Gordon defying the onset of time itself. Kieran Tierney, who has had horrendous injuries to overcome, brought us back into the game, and how did Kenny McLean have the audacity to do that at the end? Both Aaron Hickey and Lewis Ferguson have had their careers disrupted by injury, but have fought back. It’s said that the much derided Grant Hanley felt the need to say sorry to Steve Clarke for his display in Greece. “You don’t have to apologise to me, ever, for how you play” Clarke replied.

This was a redemption story.

Emotions, that thing us Scots aren’t always that good at, were everywhere. Andy Robertson admitted in a post-match interview that he couldn’t get his former teammate Diego Jota out of his head for the whole day. “I was in a bit of trouble in my room earlier. I think I hid it well from the boys. I know he’ll be somewhere smiling over me” he said. After rocking Hampden Park after only three minutes, Scott McTominay, who himself had been discarded by Manchester United, went looking for his mum in the stand.

Before the game, Steve Clarke was quoted as saying: “Play with an anticipation of success rather than with a fear of failure.” If he might strike you as an unlikely source for unbridled optimism, it seems to have worked. Scotland, so often paralysed by the enormity of the moment, didn’t just raise their game, they changed it.

We’ve learned failure, but last night we unlearnt it.

I’ve been walking about in a sort of stupor all day, stunned. This, I suppose, is what winning feels like. It’s an odd experience. Being a Scotland fan is to be familiar with ritual humiliation. It’s like experiencing low-level trauma. Our ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory has happened so often that it feels like it’s in our DNA. Entire lifetimes are pockmarked by defeat.

How we won was more important than that we won.

Despite the individual goals and glory, we won as a team. We came back from adversity after adversity (losing Souttar, losing Doak and the Danes equalising twice). In the past, we might have buckled, but last night was different. We didn’t just win, we won in style.

In an interview, the captain Andy Robertson said: “I’ve never wanted to be a poster boy, but if I’m going to be a poster boy for anything, it should be this ― if you don’t give up, and if you carry on believing in yourself when others are doubting you, you can make it. You can show that you are good enough.”

Believe in yourselves eh? It might catch on.