Glory

hydesollie
17 hours ago
5 min read

June 3, 1978. Late morning in Victoria, BC.

A decent sized crowd filters into Memorial Arena, a barn like, aging structure along Blanshard, one of the city’s main streets. If normally home to a plethora of ice hockey practices and games, the facility is now in summer mode. The regular ice sheet just a cold concrete floor.

Still, the smell of popcorn, burnt hotdogs, and fried onions, wafts through the concourse.

Various signs and posters herald a much anticipated event. The occasion a number of FIFA World Cup (Soccer) tournament broadcasts, on a huge screen, via satellite TV. All the way from Argentina.

The emcee steps on to a rickety looking stage. Welcomes those in attendance, in particular the “Tartan Army,” a noisy contingent sporting kilts, vests and a variety of navy blue replica jerseys. After all, the featured Group 4 game pits Scotland against Peru.

Alas, from the start, the picture, not to mention the audio quality, leaves much to be desired. Blurred images. Buffering. The feed, bouncing around the globe from cell tower to cell tower, just not reliable.

Nonetheless, the partisan crowd bursts into applause when favoured Scotland lands an opening goal in the 14^th minute. Unfortunately, some of the subsequent play matches the inconsistency of the satellite link. Indeed, as the screen flickers, fades to grey, or cuts out completely for minutes at a time, it is the South American side that takes control. Registers the equalizer just before halftime. 1-1.

The announcer again takes the microphone. Regrets the weak transmission signal. Hopes for better. Yet, the situation does not improve. Then, as the talented Peruvians continue to boss the action, as Scotland continues to struggle, the big screen finally gives up the ghost.

The arena plunges into total darkness.

Another forty minutes drags by. The lost signal never returns. And, with it, comes more bad news. A telephone call confirms two late Peru goals in a 3-1 victory.

The beleaguered host tries desperately to rescue a deteriorating situation. Jumping on to the stage, he again apologizes profusely for the numerous interruptions. Confirms free entry to the arena for the next Scotland pool match, due to be played in a few days time vs Iran.

In response, a broad, rapid fire Glaswegian accent emerges above the growing din and rumblings of discontent.

“Ach, we dinnae wan Scotlan,” the voice intones. “We wan Peroo.”

Perhaps this sarcastic, wretched, and frustrated reaction accurately mirrors the anguish that far too often surrounds Scotland and its national soccer side. That its wildly passionate supporters, regardless of any high water marks, anticipate eventual disappointment and failure when attempting to qualify for, or competing in, major international tournaments.

Indeed, despite producing global superstars such as Dalglish, Law, Souness, and Bremner, Scotland fails to make any significant traction in eight World Cup appearances between 1954 and 1998. Four measly victories from 23 matches, the team not once advancing from group play to the knockout stages.

All along the way, hope and enthusiasm undone by a lack of confidence. At its core, a lack of deep seated belief, fueled by a toxic mix of trepidation, trauma, angst and misery. For players and fans alike, a bleak perspective that things will invariably somehow, some way, go wrong.

The years slide by. Nearly three decades pass, as Scotland fails to reach the global showcase in 2002, 2006, 2010, 2014, 2018 and 2022.

Yet, over the course of one dramatic, enchanted evening, everything changes.

Glasgow. November 18, 2025.

European qualification for the World Cup again reaches a final stage. Scotland entertains a talented and disciplined Danish squad. The mathematics are simple. Victory by the hosts will end a long exile from the sport’s biggest stage. For the experienced visitors, a draw will suffice.

Hampden Park, the country’s iconic national stadium, readies for what promises to be another super-charged, spine-tingling encounter. 50,000 loyal fans jam into every nook and cranny, roaring their support. Buoyant, yet decidedly nervous after decades of close calls, near misses, and heartbreak.

Once again, opportunity knocks.

A rousing rendition of Flower of Scotland further electrifies the crowd. The referee’s whistle sounds. The game begins.

Three short minutes later, absolute magic. Scotland presses hard. Forces a turnover, swings a cross into the Denmark penalty area. Striker Scott McTominay connects with a stunning overhead bicycle kick, as good a goal as one might ever see.

Scotland 1, Denmark 0. Cue the bedlam.

Unfortunately, nearly ninety minutes still remain.

The hosts just manage to navigate the remainder of the first half. Tenacious and spirited, but for much of the time hanging on grimly. Denmark dominates possession, completes five times as many passes, wins multiple corner kicks.

Eventually, the Scottish dam breaks. Denmark equalizes in the 57^th minute.

Thoughts the game might turn, given the ejection of a Danish player moments later, come to naught. The visitors, even down a man, control play. However, another sloppy, defensive error then allows Scotland to again regain the necessary lead.

2-1. Now only twelve minutes, plus stoppage time, to hold out.

Alas, almost immediately, Denmark draws level. The crowd in agony, their team pegged back, first to 1-1 and now 2-2. Watching intently from thousands of miles away on Canada’s west coast, I suffer with them, thinking of the supporters and the players. Thinking, like many of them no doubt, “surely not again.”

Happily, thanks to bucketloads of grit, bravery, and determination, the Scotland team continues to battle. Keeps believing.

And this time, it is Denmark that cracks.

With ninety minutes up, the game moves into added time. A dreaded draw the likely outcome, until another seminal moment. A loose clearance finds Scottish midfielder Kieran Tierney just outside the penalty area. One quick touch, then his simply superb, curling, left foot 25 meter shot cleanly beats the diving Danish goalkeeper.

Scotland 3, Denmark 2.

The crowd goes absolutely bonkers. Giddy. Delirious. Disbelieving. Grown men, used to having their hearts broken, in tears. Others scream at the referee to check his watch, implore him to blow for full time. Denmark, on the cusp of claiming the draw it needs, now behind by a goal.

Incredibly, one final twist remains.

The visitors, in a last ditch effort to salvage the draw, throw everything into a final attack. Yet, another loose pass sees Scotland regain the ball. From the halfway line, with the Danish goalie stranded miles off his line, a long, looping shot finds the open net.

4-2 Scotland. Final score. Incredible scenes unfold, the all too familiar despair replaced by ecstasy, jubilation, and a collective outpouring of pure, unadulterated joy. Decades of failure and disappointment wash away.