Campbell Armstrong’s blog

Of course the answer is none, no chance: my country failed to qualify, which is frequently and painfully the case. We crash too often on the rocks of qualification in groups where we might have equipped ourselves better. This constant failure bruises Scottish pride - didn’t we practically invent the game? Maybe not, but we were there at the cradle - the Glasgow clubs of Queen’s Park, Celtic and Rangers came into existence in the late 1800s, which at least gives Scotland some kind of priviliged presence at the birthing of football. But alas no status.

Our national teams have been generally putrid. In my lifetime I can recall humiliating defeats by Uruguay (7-0), Morocco (3-0), and - say it quietly - Costa Rica (1-0). Our teams have been inadequate, although some outstanding, if flawed, individual players have appeared over the years. The late Jinky Jimmy Johnstone, tricky Celtic winger, a sorceror of great gifts, was once found floating out to sea alone in a rowing-boat, after an ‘escapade’ at training-camp. The elegant Slim Jim Baxter, whose prodigious skills were combined with an arrogance as consuming as his thirst, saved his best displays for games against England - and was dominant in humiliating the Auld Enemy in London the year after England won The World Cup. I remember walking through Soho that sunny afternoon. Tartan-draped fans chanted The World Cup Was Fixed, and they meant it.
We’ve also been cursed by the occasional megalomaniacal coach. The likeable, slightly daft Ally McLeod sits at the head of this table. He singlehandedly frothed the people of Scotland into believing we were going to win the World Cup in Argentina in 1978. Master of enthusiasm, Ally had the evangelical persuasion of a Billy Graham. He was also seriously self-deluded - no great failing in Scottish eyes. In the first game, Peru defeated Scotland 3-1, which was followed by a draw with Iran - Iran! - most Scottish fans expected we’d steamroller these neophytes, but no. We went into that game with our customary unjustified arrogance and screwed up. The third match was against Holland, one of the favourites, and although we won 3-2, it wasn’t enough, and we were eliminated.
So, yes, it pains us to look at events taking place in Germany even as I write this. We believe we should be there. How do you imagine it feels if you’re a Scot and you see teams like Serbia and Montenegro involved. Or Togo. And what about the USA for God’s sake - they don’t even call football by its rightful name? Oh it hurts all right…

The underlying truth hurts even more, and runs contrary to Scottish footballing pride and tradition - we’re just not good enough. A tiny nation of five million people, we don’t produce players with the skills needed to win World Cups, never mind qualify for them. Did we ever have these skills? Did we just dream it? Are we all affected at birth by the same enthusiastic nationalism as Ally McLeod - and believe we’re a proud world-class footballing nation, or that we can become one?

Scottish footballing glory. Who’s like us? Damn few, and they’re all deid. We tell ourselves hazy heathery tales when we gather in pubs and the aqua vitae is flowing and the night is darkly bitter outside. One day, mate. One day…I don’t think any Scots believe this. The fact is our local game is swamped with non-Scottish players and promising Scottish kids give way to imports scraped from from an assortment of European clubs. So we don’t have a long line of talented boys waiting to wear the dark blue jersey. We don’t belong with the Togos of this world - and even if there was some calamitous tectonic shift and we found ourselves having to qualify out of Africa, I doubt we’d have the skills to do it.

So we watch events in Germany and maybe we’re secretly glad we’re not there to be humiliated. Or maybe we’d love to be there and humiliation be damned. Pride is one thing, participation another - we’re not in there with the Big Boys. But we usually find an unlikely candidate to support in place of Scotland - and this time it’s Trinidad & Tobago, who are surely no-hopers the way Scotland would be. Why T&T and not Toga, not Angola? One reason, and the only one I can find, is that the centre-half of T&T plays his club football with Glasgow Rangers - Marvellous Marvin Andrews, an extraordinary man whose playing skills are less than the effort he gives to each game, which is total. You want commitment, Marvin is the man. Also, he holds Christian beliefs so strong he’s a registered faith-healer - when he suffered from cruciate ligament damage, which usually sidelines an avergage player for months, he trusted God more than the surgeons and he played on and on, game after game, with no apparent detrimental side-effects. He played through this injury with courage and willingness and an incandescent smile. A modest man, likeable and approachable, he seems to transcend the bilious sectarianism that infests the game in Glasgow. He’s God’s man, and is admired, even revered, for his raw energy and his simple faith. He has a large cult following - which includes some who believe, with justification, that he’s not the best centre-half in the world, not even the best in Scotland, but he has a quality of radiant simplicity and honesty that touches the hardest hearts. Marvin brightens a dull day in Glasgow. He epitomises spirit and determination, and the people of Scotland admire the guy who gives his heart, and his ligament damange, to every game he plays.

Maybe he can brighten the World Cup in the same way. He missed the first game, a creditable 0-0 draw with Sweden, but he will probably play in the next match. Scots hope so - he’s the nearest thing we have to a representative in Germany. He’s an Honorary Scot, and we’re proud to have him. And Trinidad and Tobago go where the Scottish team failed. May they flourish. They carry Tartan hopes with them.

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