Positive signs against the Swiss
So it was finally here. The best Monday morning of the year. After months of countdown we had reached departure day. Felt like Christmas but on steroids.
After some delicious 8am airport pints and a not so delicious airport breakfast we were on our way. Our trip was bookended by overnight stays in London that helped keep costs down and allowed us to catch up with friends that had moved down there. We found a decent sports bar with non extortionate pints and watched the Group E fixtures that were on that day. Was particularly impressed with Romania and how they performed on that day v Ukraine. The age old question arose - why can’t that be us?
Pints were drank, catch ups were had and then we moved onto our accommodation for the evening, totally buzzing to get amongst it on the Tuesday afternoon. No shame in admitting I’d had major FOMO on Friday afternoon seeing all the photos and videos from Munich, it looked outstanding.
More morning pints and the flight was made with a minimum of fuss, with the usual nod of appreciation to all other Scotland fans that were encountered en route. A brief snooze on the plane and we were 10 minutes from landing in Frankfurt. Keemon.
Security was passed after German border control confidently assuring me we could only get better from here on (I’d be worried to see what worse would look like). The train was boarded to Frankfurt City Centre - probably the first and last that was on time the whole week. I will try and keep the train complaints to a minimum because no one is here to read about that.
Our destination of Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof was reached and straight to the pub we went. Those first couple of beers went down an absolute treat. We had arrived.
The hostel we were staying at was just a 15 minute tram from outside the station, and the stop couldn’t really have been much closer. Good result. The hostel itself was nice, with a pool table, a massive, basically 5 a side table football and a bar serving until all hours. What more could you want.
Bags were dropped, coins were flipped for particular beds and it was time to see what Frankfurt had to offer.
A short walk from the city centre and we found our designated watering hole. An outdoor seat, decent food, table service for drinks and screens to watch the football on. Not bad.
The only slight downside to that venue was it was next to a fairly busy road which was fine most of the night until the Turks took home a 3-1 victory over Georgia which led to lots and lots of cars arriving with the Turkish flag waving, horns blaring. All in good spirit though. Good on them. Can only imagine the nick we’d all get in if we took home a win at a major tournament.
A good night number one was had, most of the boys we were out with had been there since the Thursday so some were flagging slightly and looking to save themselves for game day on the Wednesday. The four of us who had travelled on that day had a bit more energy so went to find a late night venue and had a few more beers and a bit of chat with anyone who would listen. Happy days.
Matchday 2 for the national team arrived with a group of workers drilling directly outside our hostel pre 8am. Not very considerate of them. They didn’t know I had rolled in just a few short hours earlier?
The morning meeting point was duly made and we were back on the tram to the Hbf. The main station was a sea of blue and it looked so, so good. A first Bratwurst of the trip was thoroughly enjoyed here. Cans purchased, delayed train boarded and we were off towards Cologne.
The train journey itself was all very convivial, with a few ‘Oh Christian Dailly’ renditions on the go. Tune. Couple of cans later we were pulling into the station and then onto the Ibis we were booked in. Non essentials were dropped off in the rooms and we headed for the cathedral which seemed to be where most of the activity was occurring.
And occurring it was. What a sight. Scotland fans in all directions as far as you could see. A crate of beer was purchased and we set up shop just at the edge of the square. We met up with most of our friends who had travelled out separately at this point, which was great to see everyone. My old man was also present on this trip so I went to meet him and he joined up with us in the square too. Great times.
Next up was the much talked about fan march for the final 2km or so before the ground. Unfortunately the transport system was wholly unprepared for the 30,000 Scots who were looking to embark upon said march. Getting through the station was bordering on dangerous and handled very poorly. That’s my lot on the trains.
The train ride itself was absolutely magnificent. Songs all the way, people having a good time and just a generally enjoyable place to be.
The organisers of the march have to take so much credit because what a spectacle it was. The locals were loving it as much as we were, there was no hassle, just everyone out to enjoy the experience. I would do it again in a heartbeat.
A short while later we reached the stadium. What a venue. Big grass park outside for people to meet on, and have a drink or two before heading in. Ticket system was stress free and there was the option to drink actual beer in the ground. Fans allowed to enjoy themselves and have a good time? That’ll never catch on up here.
Beers purchased, seats located and we were ready to go. Time for the anthems. Just about held it together. Being within it, it felt loud but can sometimes be hard to get true appreciation of the overall sound, but to hear Andy Robertson say it was the loudest he’d ever heard brought a smile to my face. What a country. What an anthem we have.
Game kicks off and almost immediately we win a corner. Never heard a corner celebrated so loudly in my life. ‘Just imagine if we score’ I offered. Didn’t take long.
Clearly it doesn’t matter a jot in the grand scheme, but I am glad that the goal appears to have been given to McTominay after all. He almost single handedly dragged us through some games in qualifying, so hard to say anyone else would deserve our first proper goal of the tournament.
The scenes in the stands were sensational. We were in the bottom row of the second tier so I was trying not to fall over the wall whilst simultaneously hugging anyone within range. What a bounce. Still have the bruises, but that’s why we do this.
It was all going swimmingly until Tony Ralston had a bit of a brain freeze moment and slipped in a lovely through ball for Shaqiri to bend right into the top corner. A moment for the first time finish, by the way. That’s the level we’re playing with. Credit to Ralston, his head never went down afterwards and he played well the rest of the game.
As I mentioned on the previous blog I don’t have a whole lot of recollection on much happening the rest of the game, apart from the two offside goals for the Swiss and Hanley hitting the post for us. That alongside the chance in the second we all thought the striker missed, only to realise when watching the highlights that Gunn actually makes a top save. Total heart in mouth territory right at the end when they miss the header. But miss it they do and we get out with a creditable draw against a very decent Switzerland side who regularly get to the knockout rounds in both Euros and World Cups.
So a last game, winner takes all shoot out with Hungary to see who goes through. Would have taken that pre tournament. Definitely would’ve taken it at 10pm on Friday night. Now or never lads.
After another tremendous train journey where we got involved in a semi viral TikTok video with some of our younger Tartan Army members leading a platform full of fans in song, it was back to the cathedral for a thoroughly good night. Hundreds of Scotland fans converging round a speaker which was blasting The Proclaimers, and other such classics. The police were present but they were in good form, keeping a low profile, taking a few photos and just making sure nothing risked tipping over the edge, which it never really threatened to in my experience.
Thursday morning awoke with me having absolutely no voice, which I’m sure the rest of my group were delighted with. Absolutely no regrets though. The general consensus between those with working vocal chords was that we’d need to put in that display again and probably a bit more to get ourselves the win we needed against Hungary.
But we’d given ourselves a chance. That’s all we could ask for. Win the game and you go through. Don’t win and you go out. Doesn’t get much more black and white than that.
Sunday 23rd June 2024 would be the day of reckoning. 9pm. Stuttgart. Winner takes all.