Hungarian Heartbreak

After the game against the Swiss, Thursday passed over fairly innocuously into Friday, where we had a train to Frankfurt to go and collect the last arriving members of our squad. They were duly scooped up and we were off to the same digs as we’d stayed in earlier in the week, so knew we were onto a winner on that front.

Headed back into town to go and watch the ‘game of the tournament’ so far, in France v Netherlands. 0-0. What a waste of time that was. Tram up the road via the kebab stand. No complaints from me.

Saturday brought us another day of travel, but this time it was for the big one. All roads led to Stuttgart for the Tartan Army. Another delayed train and we were on our way. Our arrival in Stuttgart coincided with a rain-shower, so it was good to see it’s not just Scotland that happens in. *cue Travis*

Our hotel was located and rooms checked into. The other boys were heading out to a lively looking place but I decided to stay back as I still hadn’t totally recovered from Wednesday evening’s exploits. So I sat in my bed, watched that days games and went to sleep whilst everyone else was out having a good time. 26 years old going on 60.

Mercifully, the good nights sleep and abstemious day seemed to do the trick and I was good to go in the morning. There was a different feeling in the air on the Sunday. You knew it was THE game.

After trying out a German style buffet breakfast (7/10) and a McDonald’s for the less cultured amongst us, it was back on the U-bahn and into the city centre. Heaving. Although, that most likely was in part due to the team hotel being right by the station and they were expected to be leaving around then.

So after a short wander and realising everywhere that sold beer was absolutely mobbed, we took the decision to head a couple of stops further down the line, aiming for Charlottenplatz. Got off here, bumped into a couple of other friends and went on the search for a pub with seats.

Mission success. Pub with seats found. Deals only in cans. Sells Bratwurst. Don’t mind if I do.

The rest of the group were duly made aware of our success and made their way down to meet us. What started as a table of 6 quickly became 4 tables joined together of 20+. The sun was out, the cans were going down a treat and everyone was looking forward to the game. The usual pre match chat of lineups and tactics was being hotly discussed, with one overriding message standing clear of the rest. We have to go for this tonight.

I wasn’t looking for us to be totally gung ho where we throw caution to the wind from minute one and turn it into a basketball game. But go and be aggressive with and without the ball, play forward passes, play quickly. Get our strikers some actual service rather than scraps - and that’s being generous.

The type of football we had played so successfully through our qualifying campaign that had got us this opportunity, it was time for that to make a long awaited reappearance. There had been some encouraging signs in the Switzerland game and we needed plenty more of where that came from if we were going to make it through the group stages for the first time ever.

The hours ticked by and eventually it was time to make a move. Slab of cans purchased for the journey, of course. Lovely and cold they were too. 10/10.

The train out to the ground was much less chaotic than the previous effort and we were a short walk from the ground with plenty of time to spare. It seemed that we walked off the train into central Budapest as we entered into a massive crowd of Hungarian fans. It was the only time the full trip I had felt in any way outnumbered by fans other than our own, but they were in good spirits and up for a good time, just like ourselves. Exactly what tournaments like this should be about.

A short walk later and we were at the ground, back to being surrounded by dark blue. Photos taken, beers purchased and post match meeting point agreed, we all headed off to the seats. Both seats I was lucky enough to get over the two games had great views over the pitch, so I was pretty happy with the result as I found my surroundings for the game.

I spent the next few minutes thinking of all possible outcomes, and how that would go. But I was quietly confident. I thought we had enough to get the job done.

Anthems time again. Hungarian one was excellent. Thoroughly enjoyed. Flower of Scotland belted out loud and proud as ever.

The first half seemed to sail by. Even though not a lot happened, especially from a Scottish perspective. I wasn’t that upset by a 0-0 halftime score. Just meant we had 45 minutes plus stoppage time to give it everything we had. A bit more positivity and risk taking with the passing wouldn’t go amiss. A lot of it was very safe and not in any way troubling the Hungarian back line who had shipped 5 goals in the two games prior.

We had the 30 goal Lawrence Shankland on the bench, surely it wouldn’t be long before we saw him along with some other offensive options. If this wasn’t what James Forrest was brought in for, then what was?

The second half continued in pretty much the same way from a Scottish point of view, could never accuse the players of a lack of effort but a real lack of guile and quality was letting us down when we looked like getting into threatening positions. Surely a Shankland, Christie and / or wide player would be on soon.

Then comes the injury to Varga. Being at the other end of the stadium I had no real view of what had happened, it was just clear it had been a hefty collision of multiple, committed players going for the same ball. When the tents went up it got a bit scary. I couldn’t help but think back to Eriksen at the previous tournament. Delighted to learn that he’s going to recover. It may be the best game in the world, but it’s only a game at the end of the day.

Minutes ticked on. Still no subs. Finally at 76 minutes we see Shankland and Armstrong. 14 minutes of normal time left in a game we have to win and we’re still going with 5 defenders on the pitch. Hmm. 83 minutes on the clock and we finally get what I would describe as positive changes. Slightly uninspiring.

At this point I do feel like we are going for it, but we still haven’t made their keeper make a single save. In a game like this. Grim.

Then Armstrong goes through. Oh my god. Then he goes down in a massive tangle. Surely a pen, simply has to be. Not given. In absolute disbelief.

Surely VAR steps in here. Ball goes out and comes back into play again. No penalty. Wild.

Having seen it back after the event, I can see both arguments. However for my money, Armstrong is goalside of the defender and he’s taken him out trying to get to the ball. For me it’s a foul. And I’m bitter.

We move on.

The board goes up. 10 minutes. Big roar goes up from the supporters. No one here has thrown the towel in yet.

90+8. Grant Hanley. I was halfway down the stairs before he hit it. Probably best for my wellbeing that the keeper makes the save. But that’s our first shot on target in the entire game and we’d played almost 100 minutes. And it’s the Centre Half. Not good enough.

Then of course 90+10 rolls around and one of their counters was going to work in the end. I can accept losing a goal in that fashion if we’re over committing players, a draw wouldn’t have made a difference anyways.

Doesn’t stop me being totally gutted. Head in hands. Not afraid to admit that a tear was shed because of how much this means to us all.

I felt for the players at the end. You could see they were physically and emotionally exhausted, every one of them had given everything for their country and we’d come up short. Again.

Took me a while to get moving again after the game. Felt like I’d just ran about for 90 minutes myself. Totally knackered.

The Hungarians we met after the game were all very gracious in victory, you could see it had been an emotional rollercoaster for them too, especially with one of their own at the time in an uncertain condition.

So there it was. My first trip to watch Scotland at a major tournament had ended in the same way as all the others previous. However, despite this, it was one of the best weeks of my life so far. To be surrounded by so many fellow Scots in a foreign country was something I’ve never had the privilege to experience before, but would love to do again. The Germans (and their trains) were great hosts, so welcoming and friendly and the vast majority of other countries fans we met were all there for the right reasons.

After the emotions they’ve put us through I think we’ll all be glad to have a bit of a break from Scotland for a couple of months, but you’d better believe the Scotland playlist will be getting cranked up when we play Poland at Hampden in September.

Oh go on then. Alexa, play We’ve got McGinn one last time….