What’s Under the Kilt?! E4
3 wins takes us to Euro 2004.
What a position we are in. Our imperious home form has driven us to the brink of qualification with the most unlikely lads possible. Who’d have thought that Alex Burke and Myles Hogarth would be integral parts of my qualification bid?!
We beat ROI in our now annual April friendly, with a 2–1 win after a late goal from EFM. It’s not a stunning performance but it’s functional and gives us the perfect tune up ahead of welcoming Wales to Hampden. I recall Frank Conway and add Mark McCormick — who theoretically could pay the El Fuckin’ Mago role, and Neil Murray, a defensive midfielder from Stenhousemuir. At this stage, most of the players in the bottom three tiers of Scottish football have at least a cap…
Its a warm day at Hampden as Loch Lomond blasts out the speakers into the packed arena. In the changing rooms underneath I remind the players that a win here is imperative. We’ve come so far in such a short space of time and I’m desperate to see us over the line. Maxwell and Marvellous Marv are suspended so we double up on Kev’s in defence to bolster the Kev ratio. Frank and Neil Murray roam in DM with Burkey, Teale, Jim Sherry, EFM and McCormick rounding out the team.
With six minutes on the clock we gain possession in the Welsh half through Murray. He shapes to cross but drives on into the area and picks out EFM who has found a yard of space. 1–0. Fucking YALDY! I’ve barely climbed down off the roof of the dugout when Burkey jinks in from the left and curls one towards the far….CORNER! ITS 2–0! I’LL FIGHT YOUR SHEEP!!!
It’s an extraordinary start to the game and Teale then hits the bar in the 21st minute as the Welsh fold like a late 00’s economy. I’m already rehearsing my half-time speech when Ryan Giggs gets away down the wing in the 45th minute and keeps running like he;s got an angry spouse chasing him. We can’t lay a glove on him and he centres to Robbie Savage, who scores. 2–1.
I stare at the players for 12 minutes before showing them a quick Malcolm Tucker montage and send them back out without their drams. They look stunned into life again and McCormick gets on the end of a flowing move to make it 3….No. The Linesman has flagged for offside. I tell him that I’ll see him postgame out in the carpark. I throw on Grady for Marc and tell him to score a fucking goal for a change and bring on Charlie King for the quiet Teale. We continue to plug away with 2 penalty decisions turned down before in the 89th minute, Alex Burke takes a shot that is saved by the keeper, but he can only palm it out into the path of EFM!
3–1. Goodnight Auchtermuchty.
And so…the summer wait. Our next game in Minsk is 77 days away. How badly will we be decimated this year….
Now I am not a violent man. I am not the kind of man to take things to seriously. But if I could turn the clock back 48 hours and stab myself in the face repeatedly to prevent me from deciding to use such stupid rules, I absolutely would. The promotion/relegation rules and their implications are nothing short of a disaster.
Gary Teale — £2.3m to Rangers. Jay Stein — £1.2m to Dundee United. And worst of all…Falkirk got promoted. Meaning I lose Jamie Mac, David Hagen, Kevin McCann, Myles Hogarth and El Fuckin’ Mago.
No one has been so roundly fucked since one of the Krankies legendary ‘Haggis Supper and Dogging’ parties. I immediately call Gary Teale’s mum to rectify this injustice.
St Mirren got relegated so I immediately review their squad for options. Scrimgour comes in as number 2 keeper as does Baz McLaughlin. I throw in Hugh Murray, Steven McGarry and Scott Simpson for good measure. Mark Campbell comes in from Ayr, Liam McVey from Arbroath and Steven McDermott from Morton. I’ve essentially just replaced original recipe Irn Bru with the slurry from a Tennants overspill tray.
When we board the flight to Minsk, we have to sort out passports for 3 of them who have never been abroad before. Its an interesting flight as tinny DJ Rankin tracks are twinned with screaming when we hit turbulence every 5 minutes. I promise I will never slag Maxim Tsigalko again if we make it safely and we do. (Tsigalko is still shite, fight me).
So Minsk. Gameday. We get treated to a soviet era Karaoke version of ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’ in place of a national anthem which is quite funny really and I sort the team out. I review the previous matchday results and I’m stunned to see Germany beat Turkey 4–0 and Wales beat Belarus. Meaning we are top with a game in hand. Is this the real life? Is this just a figment of Frank McAvennie’s imagination?
Its a chilly 5 degrees in Minsk, but the start of the game isn’t as we drive straight down the pitch and King shoots wide. And then a huge boost! 8 minutes in Nikiforenko has to limp off and I celebrate the substitution by doing a quick Strip the Willow with the bench.
Well you’d think it would be a boost but we do nothing and Belarus capitalise through Katchuro in the 17th minute as he heads home. It could be worse if Maxim didn’t have two ruled out for offside and we somehow find ourselves still in the game at 1–0 at halftime.
I look at the picture of EFM in my battered wallet and decide to hook Mark as he has been utter shite. McGarry drops behind Lavety and big Baz comes off for Kev F. Foolish move from me to neglect the Kev Ratio. We create a couple of chances from set pieces with Campbell forcing a good save, but Belarus put up the metaphorical Iron Curtain and bore us into submission. I go for broke by chucking us into our 3 Free role midfielders formation with the wingers bombing on to join Lavety for the last 20 mins. We create a couple of chances through Hugh Murray and then Lavety gets loose in the 89th minute….SAVED! As I howl in anguish the ball breaks down the pitch and I scream the howl of fifty thousand as Maxim fucking scores. Of Course he does. Fucking semi-fictional fuck. 2–0 and we leave Minsk dejected.
And so to Hampden. Its do or die. After Turkey beat Wales they join us and the teutonic ones on 13 points. Meaning it all comes down to the final matchday. I scour the lower leagues looking for some undiscovered gem that I can unleash in the 10 position or a DM with a Scally-esque engine but less penchant for deserting me. I notice Grant Brebner has dropped down to Ayr from Hibs so he gets the call-up, and I find this guy playing at non-league Oakley United…
Its a fucking humungous gamble but I’m all out of brighter ideas. I drag him out of his local pub and tell him to watch ‘Gregory’s Girl' on a loop until 30 mins before kickoff.
And so to Hampden. Its the 4th of October 2003. It’s been a sellout for a month and the fans are still cramming their way into the crevices of the stadium. Despite the relative warmth its been drizzling for the past 3 days and the slick surface glistens under the floodlights. It’s time for destiny.
I crank up Deacon Blue’s ‘Dignity’ and we have a good old fashioned yell along in the changing rooms. I ceremonially set fire to a box of Turkish delight and we march out onto the pitch to the roars of the fans. This is it. This is fucking it.
Turkey have to win, and are brimming with confidence given their dominant performance against us previously. They hassle us early doors but Eddie Annand bullies their centre back from a throw in and takes the ball off him,before looking up and crossing for Mark McCormick on the VOLLEY!!!! 1–0 1–0 1–0!!! Hampden Park erupts like a brawl on a Friday night in a Lidl carpark in Parkmuir!
I try to calm the players whilst Senol Gunes on the touchline next to me does the opposite and a minute later Emre Asik absolutely bodies Eddie Annand with a tackle so bad it could serve time in Bairlinnie. He gets a red and the fans go absolutely wild. I storm over to him and tell him to take his face for a shite.
Turkey make a change on 20 minutes as they have to chase the game and McCaldon saves well from a set piece. But it all gets very big a few minutes later when Neil Bennett, the park footballer from Dunfermline gets over a free kick and rattles an absolute rocket past Rustu Recober and into the back of the net to give us a massive 2–0 lead. I sprint down the touchline and drink in the cheers and copious amounts of strong alcohol raining from the stands.
Marvellous has a third disallowed in the 32nd minute but it is as close to one way traffic as you would find outwith Glasgow City centre. We could be 5–0 but we go in at the break 2–0 with one foot in….I ask my assistant to look up where the Euros are.
We head back out and immediately into the ascendency again. The increased Neil ratio of 2 makes a huge difference and Murray plays in Annand who crosses for Burke and bang! 3–0! They think its all over! But is it fuck! Big Baz gets his first Scotland goal with a towering header in the 65th minute and I lead the entire main stand in ‘The Sloshnan’ — our now semi-legendary part Slosh part Poznan battle dance. The last 15 minutes zip by in a blur of Turkish chances and us taking the absolute piss and THERE IT IS! THE FULL TIME WHISTLE!!
WE ARE ON THE WAY TO PORTUGAL (finally)!!!!
