The Agony and Ecstasy of Supporting Scotland
For 28 long years, being a Scotland football fan meant mastering the art of finding increasingly creative ways to explain away failure. When that late Danish equaliser went in during the crucial World Cup qualifier, my immediate reaction was to turn to my friend Ossie and his ill-timed comment about preferring Kansas over other American destinations. 'That was your fault,' I hissed, blaming his casual travel preference for what seemed like another catastrophic collapse.
Such is the twisted logic that defines supporting a nation that last graced a World Cup in France 1998. We become experts in superstition, clinging to any ritual that might reverse our fortunes. I've spent afternoons in kilts, torn between lucky boxers and going commando in true Scotsman tradition, genuinely attempting a half-and-half approach during one particularly tortured qualifier. Of course, it never worked. It never does with Scotland.
A Generation Weaned on Glorious Failure
My earliest football memories are from that last World Cup appearance in France, when I was just seven years old. I recall the bitterly cold overnight ferry from Hull, celebrating Craig Burley's delightful finish against Norway, and dancing with Cameroon fans in Nantes. As the years stretched on, those memories became bittersweet, ageing me as the near-misses and disappointments piled up.
Scotland's particular brand of failure rarely came against footballing giants. Instead, it was the draws against Moldova, Lithuania, and Macedonia that seared into our brains. The defeats to Wales, Slovakia, and Georgia that defined generations. We became jaded veterans of a war nobody else understood, telling younger fans 'you weren't there man! You don't know what it was like!'
The Night Everything Changed
But on November 19, 2025, something shifted in the cosmos. While so much of that match against Denmark felt familiar – the self-defeating tactics, the moments of madness, the nerve-shredding complications – the outcome was profoundly different. For years, Scotland were the team that had big moments done to us. Now, under Steve Clarke, we've become the team that inflicts them on others.
This is no longer the Scotland that concedes last-minute goals to miss out on qualification. This is the Scotland where everything finally goes our way, where the Danes are left cursing their luck. The transformation has been remarkable. Instead of ruefully recalling that Iwulemo miss or that Armstrong clearance against England, we can now smile about that McTominay stunner, that McLean finish, and that emotional Andy Robertson interview that didn't leave a dry eye in the house.
The significance of Kieran Tierney's contribution cannot be overstated. So profound was his impact that he's even managed to cure my lifelong aviophobia. I'd always said I'd only overcome my fear of flying for someone I truly loved – turns out that someone was an Arsenal defender representing his country with such passion that he makes the impossible seem achievable.
With the World Cup expanded and minnows like Haiti and England in the hat, there's genuine belief that this might be the start of a journey rather than the end of one. After stinking out both Euro 2020 and Euro 2024 despite the 'No Scotland, no party' battle cries, there's optimism that we can finally make our mark on the world stage.
For once, the stars aligned, the jinxes didn't affect us, and that sheer cosmic stupidity that defines Scottish support felt like galactic intelligence. After 28 years of hurt, Scotland have finally turned the page. I can't wait for next year's tournament in North America – though just to be safe, I might give Kansas a miss.
