Two Nations; One Calcutta Cup

Flower of Scotland is really a dreadful dirge. The one time it is acceptable, however, is when England come to Murrayfield. ‘Tis 30 years since I first attended the Calcutta Cup. That was a 9-9 draw courtesy of the English prop Colin Smart who, in the dying moments, yapped at the referee causing a Scotland penalty to be advanced into the English half and therefore just within Andy Irvine’s range. The great man duly kicked the goal to earn a draw. Happy, relieved times. The following year I visited Twickenham for the first time and, lord, if you had told my eight year old self that would be the last Scottish victory in south-west London for 30 years, that wee boy would have wept. Then there was 1984 which was braw, 1986 which was astonishing (though I wasn’t present on that occasion) and, of course, the daddy of them all: 1990.