Well, that’s that. So close to glory, yet so far.
If ever anyone asks you to explain the quintessence of the Scottish footballing experience you need merely point them towards this afternoon’s game at Hampden Park. Every essential element was duly present. Hope. Fear. Calamity. Melodrama. Passion. Joy. Purgatory. Glory. And finally, that familiar friend Disaster. As it always seems to be, watching Scotland play football was to hop on a switchback that would take you to the top of the highest mountain – with just a momentary pause to admire the splendour of the view and the freshness of the air – before plunging back into the deepest, darkest valleys of despair. And then repeat the process just for fun. Whatever else it might be, it’s one hell of a ride.
To begin with there was the agony of hope. As kick-off loomed and the rain lashed down in Glasgow we managed to forget that we were playing the world champions.
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