Poor Andy Robertson.
The celebrated, much-loved Liverpool left-back and Scotland captain has had an astonishing season in every way but for its conclusion.
Pipped for the Premier League title on the final day by Manchester City, he could then do nothing to stop Real Madrid snatching the Champions League on Saturday night. He sat alone on the Stade de France pitch following the final whistle, his face a harrowed portrait of despair.
Sadly for Andy, bad things all too often come in threes. And, before he can rest his battered limbs and weary brain on a well-earned summer break, he must lead Scotland out at Hampden on Wednesday night for a high-stakes, one-off World Cup qualifier; a game that could take us to the brink of our first appearance on the biggest of football stages since a now practically sepia-tinted 1998.
The opposition? Of course it is, Andy. Of course. Ukraine.
Robertson has had a rough few weeks, but it is obviously nothing next to the Ukrainian experience. In its brave resistance to Russia’s brutal invasion, the country has deservedly become the world’s poster child.
Its president, Volodymyr Zelensky, is revered everywhere but the Kremlin, while its devastated but grimly determined population has touched and inspired us all. Scots have wept for them, raged with them, prayed for them, sent money and food, and opened our borders.
There can be no playing as the good guys
My editor has asked that I observe my trademark sensitivity on this most delicate of issues, and quite right too. Football is of no importance next to war and death. The most courageous footballer is nothing next to the ordinary Ukrainians who have picked up arms to defend their homeland. I, like the rest of you, am in awe of them.
But, still, on Wednesday night, we must kick Ukraine’s ass. Whatever else it is, football is a zero-sum game – it’s them or us. If we’re to go to the World Cup, we must stop Ukraine (and then, on Sunday, Wales) from doing so.
Not only must we score more goals than they do, fully embracing our role as global killjoys, but we must impose all the physical unpleasantnesses that football demands.
We must scrape studs down their ankles and catch their heads with trailing elbows. The odd dead leg must be dished out. Their quick forwards must be sent soaring over the billboards at the side of the pitch like so many flying fish.
There may even be the occasional need to twist a testicle or tweak a nipple. Deliberate handballs may be necessary. John McGinn must make full use of his prodigious rear end.
There can be no taking it easy, no soft-soaping, no playing as the good guys. We must leave them sitting disconsolate on the Hampden turf in their now famous yellow and blue, looking much like Robbo did in Paris.
Scots have a sense of humour about our failings and limitations
What a thing to have to do! Our Tartan Army prides itself on fair play, and is an outfit so belligerently contrary that, as England fans exported their hooliganism across the world, it took a deliberately contrasting vow of good behaviour.
When we travel, we are a friendly, if drunken, lot. The closest we get to public disorder is to sleep it off on a park bench or, if caught short after a quick eight pints or so, relieve ourselves in an alleyway or in a delicate, ancient fountain. At our very worst, we may try to persuade a passing policewoman to give us a kiss on the cheek.
Let’s be honest: it’s going to be an extremely uncomfortable experience on Wednesday night. No one outside our national borders will be rooting for Scotland
We know that defeat is always a possibility, if not a likelihood, regardless of the quality of the opposition. To be Scottish is to have a sense of humour about our national failings and limitations, earned through bitter experience. We avoid arrogance and swagger, in part because there hasn’t been much to swagger about. As these things go, our fans are quite popular.
Slava Shotlandiya!
So, let’s be honest: it’s going to be an extremely uncomfortable experience on Wednesday night. No one outside our national borders will be rooting for Scotland. The rest of the world will be willing a Ukraine victory, a moment of light amid the darkness, the outsize joy that comes with sporting triumph against difficult odds and in tragic circumstances.
Ukraine will be seen to deserve it utterly, to be a necessary addition to November’s Qatar World Cup, where they would be cheered to the echo.
And, if Scotland spoils the party? Well, look. This is the best national team we’ve had in decades; a tidy mix of skill and steel, with a spirit that has regularly seen us dispatch superior opponents (famously beating England 0-0 at Wembley in last year’s Euros).
Our captain may be the best in his position in world football, and there is top-end talent littered through the squad. It’s been ages since we’ve been to the World Cup, and we really, really want to go.
So, with all due apologies: Slava Robbo! Slava Shotlandiya!
Chris Deerin is a leading journalist and commentator who heads independent, non-party think tank, Reform Scotland
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