We welcome a new manager, the nation rejoices in unanimous celebration of Scotland’s saviour. A national good guy had taken on the top job, for the second time and was definetley not first choice.
Alex Mcleish had deserted the sunk ship following a half decent campaign that left Scotland with half decent failure. Off to Birmingham City, sharpish and the fans had not forgotten.
A qualifying campaign that had seen no hopers Israel showboating in a home annihilation of the less than gallant Scots. Bad enough we then were slaughtered in Kazakhstan, humiliated.
The press looked for reassurance, Craig Brown came to Eck’s defence as did other managers.
We were not kidded, not for one minute.
In asking the old manager’s club for a view the answer was predictable and also there was no further questioning in just what evidence was there of progress or of hope.
Step forward to this weeks big news that following months of shamefull, nay shameless hopelessness we are to get a new (sic) PM. Number one candidate, first off the blocks, or should I rephrase ‘off his block’, the incorrigible Boris.
His record as a government minister made oor Eck’s reign seem like one of sheer genius. I nearly crashed my car as Eddie Mair in interviewing the then foreign secretary on BBC radio 4. His, Boris’s performance was so woeful, so unprepared in his brief that said Boris was heard shuffling his papers and in fact continually answered the previous question. Eddie Mair politely suggested that the interview was not an episode of the Two Ronnies, a Mastermind sketch.
Just as oor woeful BBC Scotland journos asked Eck’s pals for reassurance the London BBC asked Boris’ father for a recommendation on Boris’ suitability for PM.
Beyond satire but sadly in either case not beyond belief.
I await my father’s views to the media on my suitability for the Scotland job.
Hamish
Saturday 25 May 2019
Friday 17 May 2019
Poland
The Times ( London ) phoned. The question posed; ‘would the West of Scotland Tartan Army be supporting Poland in the 2006 World Cup?’
There I faced the dilemma of the headline ‘The Tartan Army wish Poles harm...shocker’ if I said ‘no’.
What a responsibility, I chose the safe option and the Times ( London ) ran a story with the subtext of Scots support Poland and therefore the thousands of Poles in Scotland were assured of of our undying loyalty. Scotland’s almost permanent absence in major football finals had already been assured.
Three days later BBC 5 Live phoned asking where was the best pub to broadcast live from a pub in Scotland where the Tartan Army would be showing undying love for Poland in the first tie against Germany of all teams, the hosts. Calmly I suggested a pub in Inverness where I assumed there was a sizeable Polish community.
2 days later The Warsaw Metro phoned for an interview reference Westa’s support for the gallant Polish Team. I duly obliged with a few well chosen words, they also requested I send a photo for which I posed in front of a home made red and white flag.
The next day I was phoned by a Warsaw Radio Station where Westa’s support was now obviously big national news. The journalist had just urgently booked a flight and was now asking if I could meet him in Edinburgh where he would broadcast live from a pub full of The Tartan Army supporting Poland. I apologised and wished him ‘arra best’ and suggested a well known Tartan Army Edinburgh pub. He however gave me an hours notice and interviewed me for live broadcast.
I quickly checked the Net and was able to expand upon my love of Deyna, Boniek as my favourite ever footballers. The best ever Pole and definitely Scotland’s favourite was of course the 1973 goalie Jan Tomaszewski who single handedley, mind you he had 2 gloves, put England out of the World Cup at Wembley.
Football did not come home that night by the way. Brian Clough called him a clown, we in Scotland however celebrated a national hero of 2 countries, Poland and Scotland.
So, having assured the nation of Poland the undying support of Scotland and wishing them all the luck of lucky Scottish heather they finished second bottom of the group and went home to think again.
Oh, did I mention the Latvian Football Association phoning me in 2004 asking for the support of Westa in the Euros? I duly obliged. They finished bottom with a draw against a very poor German team as their only point. Scotland did not qualify.
Hamish
There I faced the dilemma of the headline ‘The Tartan Army wish Poles harm...shocker’ if I said ‘no’.
What a responsibility, I chose the safe option and the Times ( London ) ran a story with the subtext of Scots support Poland and therefore the thousands of Poles in Scotland were assured of of our undying loyalty. Scotland’s almost permanent absence in major football finals had already been assured.
Three days later BBC 5 Live phoned asking where was the best pub to broadcast live from a pub in Scotland where the Tartan Army would be showing undying love for Poland in the first tie against Germany of all teams, the hosts. Calmly I suggested a pub in Inverness where I assumed there was a sizeable Polish community.
2 days later The Warsaw Metro phoned for an interview reference Westa’s support for the gallant Polish Team. I duly obliged with a few well chosen words, they also requested I send a photo for which I posed in front of a home made red and white flag.
The next day I was phoned by a Warsaw Radio Station where Westa’s support was now obviously big national news. The journalist had just urgently booked a flight and was now asking if I could meet him in Edinburgh where he would broadcast live from a pub full of The Tartan Army supporting Poland. I apologised and wished him ‘arra best’ and suggested a well known Tartan Army Edinburgh pub. He however gave me an hours notice and interviewed me for live broadcast.
I quickly checked the Net and was able to expand upon my love of Deyna, Boniek as my favourite ever footballers. The best ever Pole and definitely Scotland’s favourite was of course the 1973 goalie Jan Tomaszewski who single handedley, mind you he had 2 gloves, put England out of the World Cup at Wembley.
Football did not come home that night by the way. Brian Clough called him a clown, we in Scotland however celebrated a national hero of 2 countries, Poland and Scotland.
So, having assured the nation of Poland the undying support of Scotland and wishing them all the luck of lucky Scottish heather they finished second bottom of the group and went home to think again.
Oh, did I mention the Latvian Football Association phoning me in 2004 asking for the support of Westa in the Euros? I duly obliged. They finished bottom with a draw against a very poor German team as their only point. Scotland did not qualify.
Hamish
Europe
As Scotland vainly attempt to qualify for next years Euros and perchance a chance to play some of the games at not only Wembley but Hampden we Scots are about to leave Europe politically.
I was wandering Ayr High Street the other day when I came across a wee table with none other than the Brexit Party. Led by that forager of a man Nigel Farage. See Channel 4 for an explanation of this immoral charlatan and his access to funds that have not been declared to his employer and paymaster THE EU.
A normally placid man I approached the table. I was unable to fully nor partially explain my complete disdain and extreme dislike for this ‘party’. I ended up shouting ‘shamefull’, loudly and often.
My main, but not sole reason for being a European and by default a remainder lies in Europe. In many parts and countries of Europe the EU is important. Town and village council halls fly the EU flag as the flag , symbol of peace in a Europe that has been at war and in conflict continually and almost perpetually. We in the U.K. have had conflict, only recently resolved.
I do not wish to be a citizen of an insular nation, we are about to implode into ‘Brexit means exit’ insignificance. Well maybe we in Scotland don’t have to.
Anyway, politics enters my football Blog, normally it is only down to the fitba team to exit Europe. Here’s hoping sense prevails and we qualify for Europe next year and we don’t need non EU passports in a non EU airport queue.
Hamish
I was wandering Ayr High Street the other day when I came across a wee table with none other than the Brexit Party. Led by that forager of a man Nigel Farage. See Channel 4 for an explanation of this immoral charlatan and his access to funds that have not been declared to his employer and paymaster THE EU.
A normally placid man I approached the table. I was unable to fully nor partially explain my complete disdain and extreme dislike for this ‘party’. I ended up shouting ‘shamefull’, loudly and often.
My main, but not sole reason for being a European and by default a remainder lies in Europe. In many parts and countries of Europe the EU is important. Town and village council halls fly the EU flag as the flag , symbol of peace in a Europe that has been at war and in conflict continually and almost perpetually. We in the U.K. have had conflict, only recently resolved.
I do not wish to be a citizen of an insular nation, we are about to implode into ‘Brexit means exit’ insignificance. Well maybe we in Scotland don’t have to.
Anyway, politics enters my football Blog, normally it is only down to the fitba team to exit Europe. Here’s hoping sense prevails and we qualify for Europe next year and we don’t need non EU passports in a non EU airport queue.
Hamish
Thursday 16 May 2019
New Manager
The day dawns on a new era, a new manager for our national team. What hope for the hopeless? The task has defeated the best. Jock Stein did the job twice, Mat Busby but once. Bertie Vogts managed the Euro 96 German team to victory and he inherited players who were astounded to be asked politely to play out of slightly out of position. I personally think I was born to Brazilian parents but taken home by a Scots couple by accident. I insist on following Scotland despite my true heritage and continue to watch tripe when for a few hundred pounds I could emigrate to Rio and watch football royalty.
The interview process will have posed the question , (surely); how to get the best from rubbish? The best from guys who can't pass, who can't score and who can't play football.
And by the way a country where we score 2 goals in the last minute at home to England, 2-1 up and with a breakaway, 2 on 1. we decide to pass to an English player who passes to Harry Kane.
2-2.
Good luck.
Hamish
Clueless punter
In 1928 Scotland beat England 5-1 and forever in Scottish football folklore became The Wembley Wizards. 1928 was before I was born. The goalie played for Queens Park.Alan Morton was the winger.
I often despair at the current BBC radio Scotland fitba discussion. The casual and lazy use of 'you know' peppers each and almost ever sentence. Here's a thought; if the expert asks us to ' you know' then I must 'know' and the punter can be disregarded.
Amongst the current 'experts' the self assured raconteur is one 'Stephen Thompson' best described in a Scotsman's poll of best Scottish punters as 'easily the best dressed of the punters on the list'. A former Scottish international I witnessed his goal in Dortmund's Westphallen Stadion in our 2003, 2-1 defeat. A brilliant stadium.
Bland might be his method of summarising Scottish fitba, criticism of current managers and players is rare.
He may one day care to explain his constant use of the word 'brilliant'. 'Brilliant' is an adjective last earned in Scotland possibly by Henrik Larsson, or to balance the books Brian Laudrup. One could conjour synonyms for brilliant; beaming, bedazzling, candescent, lucid, radiant. However Scottish fitba, brilliant, surely not. We now have access to top flight football 24 hours a day worldwide.
Pittodrie with a 30 yard shot that narrowly misses? Brilliant. Really? Fir Park?
Whenever I venture south I am continually asked by English friends and colleagues; what ever happened to good Scottish footballers?
The context of the well intentioned question is easy; up until 30 odd years ago Scottish players populated England's top clubs in vast numbers. We had players who dominated the wonderful Leeds United teams of the 60s and 70s. Manchester United had Law. The Liverpool who dominated Europe had a backbone of Scots, Dalglish and Souness for goodness sake.
Our almost constant qualification for the World Cup 1974-1998 was in hindsight our golden international era.
History, ours , most of it was before I was born.
Last week I was aghast at Thompson's admission that the pre-Argentina Hampden send off was 'before I was born'.
The SFA sent their 1954 World Cup squad of 14 players to Switzerland with their own training gear and a set of extra thick woolen jerseys in the expectation of chilly weather. We ,they were trounced 7-0 by Uraguay in 90 degree heat. Before I was born.
The 1974 pre-West Germany rowing boat incident. I was 16. A necessary requirement for Scottish fitba misdemeanors.
Then there was the Argentina send off. Demanded by the police for safety reasons and authorised by the SFA, not wanted by Aly Mcleod. A prelude to the impending disaster that was our World Cup 1978. Before Stephen was born.
History. Does it matter?
Our fitba history is littered with great players. Grabbing defeat from the jaws of victory. Tales of stramash.
John Greig’s last minute winner, Italy 1965.
To understand why many still care for Scottish fitba it requires an understanding of the past, when we were often good, sometimes terrible and more often than not Scottish, much of it before any of us alive today were born.
Hamish
I often despair at the current BBC radio Scotland fitba discussion. The casual and lazy use of 'you know' peppers each and almost ever sentence. Here's a thought; if the expert asks us to ' you know' then I must 'know' and the punter can be disregarded.
Amongst the current 'experts' the self assured raconteur is one 'Stephen Thompson' best described in a Scotsman's poll of best Scottish punters as 'easily the best dressed of the punters on the list'. A former Scottish international I witnessed his goal in Dortmund's Westphallen Stadion in our 2003, 2-1 defeat. A brilliant stadium.
Bland might be his method of summarising Scottish fitba, criticism of current managers and players is rare.
He may one day care to explain his constant use of the word 'brilliant'. 'Brilliant' is an adjective last earned in Scotland possibly by Henrik Larsson, or to balance the books Brian Laudrup. One could conjour synonyms for brilliant; beaming, bedazzling, candescent, lucid, radiant. However Scottish fitba, brilliant, surely not. We now have access to top flight football 24 hours a day worldwide.
Pittodrie with a 30 yard shot that narrowly misses? Brilliant. Really? Fir Park?
Whenever I venture south I am continually asked by English friends and colleagues; what ever happened to good Scottish footballers?
The context of the well intentioned question is easy; up until 30 odd years ago Scottish players populated England's top clubs in vast numbers. We had players who dominated the wonderful Leeds United teams of the 60s and 70s. Manchester United had Law. The Liverpool who dominated Europe had a backbone of Scots, Dalglish and Souness for goodness sake.
Our almost constant qualification for the World Cup 1974-1998 was in hindsight our golden international era.
History, ours , most of it was before I was born.
Last week I was aghast at Thompson's admission that the pre-Argentina Hampden send off was 'before I was born'.
The SFA sent their 1954 World Cup squad of 14 players to Switzerland with their own training gear and a set of extra thick woolen jerseys in the expectation of chilly weather. We ,they were trounced 7-0 by Uraguay in 90 degree heat. Before I was born.
The 1974 pre-West Germany rowing boat incident. I was 16. A necessary requirement for Scottish fitba misdemeanors.
Then there was the Argentina send off. Demanded by the police for safety reasons and authorised by the SFA, not wanted by Aly Mcleod. A prelude to the impending disaster that was our World Cup 1978. Before Stephen was born.
History. Does it matter?
Our fitba history is littered with great players. Grabbing defeat from the jaws of victory. Tales of stramash.
John Greig’s last minute winner, Italy 1965.
To understand why many still care for Scottish fitba it requires an understanding of the past, when we were often good, sometimes terrible and more often than not Scottish, much of it before any of us alive today were born.
Hamish
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