Managers may come and go, but for the Scottish national side at least, some things remain the same – we’re talking here about a propensity to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, however unlikely (or undeserved for that matter) the claiming of three points had appeared.
Wales were the latest team to leave the Tartan Army sobbing into their beer, their 2-1 victory finally extinguishing Scotland’s faint hopes of joining the combatants at next summer’s World Cup finals in Brazil.
Late on Friday evening after the match, in a nondescript bar somewhere in Glasgow’s south side, Gordon Strachan brushed snowflakes from his coat, and stared into his empty glass. Before he could order a re-fill, another customer approached him, and gently offered to buy him a drink. When Strachan looked into the face of the kindly chap, he recognised him immediately – and so he should, given it was his predecessor.
Strachan: ‘Craig Levein? What are you doing here?’
Levein: ‘Thought you might need a shoulder to cry on,’ came the reply.
The two men struck up a conversation, which went thus:
GS: ‘I can’t believe our bad luck, you know.’
CL: ‘Luck? Since when did Scotland ever get that?’
GS: ‘Ah, but I thought tonight was our night. I mean, your legacy is being quickly forgotten by the fans, and I’ve taken over amid a feeling of optimism, as if we expect the future to look bright. And now this.’
CL: ‘What did you seriously expect, though? You surely didn’t buy into all that guff I used to spout about how the squad was in rude health, and progress was being made!’
GS: ‘Er, yes actually…..’
CL (laughs): ‘Come on, the players are utter mince, Gordon. I know it, you know it, even the most optimistic or drunk of the Tartan Army knows it. We’re rubbish. Fact. Go figure.’
GS: ‘But my team was full of optimism prior to kick-off. We had a plan in place to contain Gareth Bale and everything. I acknowledge it was to kick him up and down the pitch all night long, but a plan it was nevertheless.’
CL: ‘How many of your players would you genuinely consider to be a class act then? Be honest.’
GS: ‘Er, well, there’s….there’s…..well…..I mean……maybe…..’
CL: ‘Precisely my point. Not one. None of those players come remotely close to what you might term international class, and let’s not even talk about world class.’
GS: ‘I was delighted with big Grant Hanley, scoring a goal on his competitive international debut.’
CL: ‘Gordon, Gordon, Gordon. Hanley was an accident waiting to happen. Prior to his goal, he was nervous as a kitten, and played like a drunk chasing crisp packets in the wind. He made Gary Caldwell look decent for pity’s sake, and we know that takes some doing.’
GS: ‘My central midfield pairing of James McArthur and Graham Dorrans…….’
CL: ‘……….looked hopelessly out of their depth. They didn’t get a sniff all night long.’
GS: ‘Good old Kenny Miller, though. What a stalwart he is. Never lets Scotland down.’
CL: ‘Indeed. Mr consistent. Consistently poor, that is. The fans are bored to tears with him. Even he moved to America to try and get away from the national side. It’s almost cruelty bringing the poor sod back – his tan looked dreadful against the backdrop of that snow as well.’
GS: Robert Snodgrass looks quite a prospect though. If that shot off the post had dropped into the net, we’d have gone on to win.’
CL: ‘Fair enough on that front. Not sure if that mitigates against his mindless tackle later on, that gifted Wales a penalty, and earned him a red card.’
GS: ‘Ach, never mind. Our chances of qualifying for Brazil had long since disappeared anyhow. Thanks to you, of course.’
CL: ‘If only I’d been given more time. If only Darren Fletcher hadn’t been out for so long. If only Scott Brown hadn’t suffered that hip injury. If only that disallowed goal in Wales had stood. If only, if only……’
GS: ‘If only you’d stayed in the job, I wouldn’t now be putting myself through this torture. I used to be content, sitting in warm TV studios, being handsomely paid and talking endlessly about stuff without any responsibility. Happy days.’
CL: (laughs again) ‘But the fans love you, wee man. You started off badly at Celtic too, but look at the success you went on to enjoy there. And that was despite Caldwell being in your team as well!’
GS: ‘But…..’
CL: ‘Thing is, Gordon, at this rate, we could end up in the fifth pot when it comes to the seeding for the Euro 16 qualifiers. That would be disastrous, of course, and could effectively scupper our chances yet again.’
GS: ‘We’re down, but I still think I can restore the team to the past levels of sustained mediocrity and glorious failure. If only I had a Dalglish, a Souness, a Johnstone, even a Hansen!’
At that, Strachan dropped his head into his hands, cutting a forlorn figure, looking for all the world like Ally Macleod in that dugout during Argentina ’78. He shuddered at that thought, and looked up, but Levein had disappeared into the night. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a lone piper filled the darkness.
Serbia on Tuesday is another day.