It is Almost Here!

It won't be many weeks from now that Scotland, at around midnight, will begin the first game in this year's World Cup.  As always with Scotland cynicism strikes first.  However, we are there, and we may as well make the most of the opportunity.  What will happen?  Will we get through the section?  Will we score a goal?  These questions are being answered by many around the country, usually with absolutely no idea what they are talking about.  But that is football!

I am finding it hard to work up enthusiasm, age, other things in life, and too tired to care too often are hindering my desire.  Of course, I will react to the result, happy to win, sad to lose, angry at referees, angry at the various SFA suits at all levels looking after themselves, not the country.  It was ever thus.

The media attention does not inspire me, the usual quotes, questions, baloney, all go nowhere.  Only major news grabs attention such as a serious injury, or one of Donald Trump's ICE agents attempting to deport one of our players.  Already one non-Scottish player has had his visa refused because of a court case somewhere in Europe, also a Somali referee has had his visa refused.  I suspect many fans paying stupid money to see a game will find themselves banned from entry by the border guards.  Anyone objecting to the child rapist will be banned, and most Scots will have made their position on that clear to all already!   

During the 1974 World Cup, (was it held in Germany?) I was desperate to watch every game, even though I was working during the Yugoslav match.  I spent that game at a patients bedside scrubbing his table while we watched the game on the Black & White TV at the far end of the ward.  The table was never so clean again.  Another game I saw in Deacon Brodie's bar in the High Street.  I based myself at the far end and ensured I ordered my second pint just before half-time.  When half-time came all the men ahead of me, and it was all men, turned as one and reached out with their empty glasses towards the barmen.  How many pints were sold at half-time, two at a time possibly to avoid looking away from the game.  However, I canny mind who were playing that day.  I forget the third game, it was a long time ago.

Whatever happens, I just wish to be in a position where I can laugh at all these Englishmen here.