The train back from Mount Florida to Glasgow Central station is not usually the place where you expect to hear wit and wisdom. But after Scotland's 2-2 draw with the Czech Republic game, the crowded carriage, for all the alcohol previously consumed, was a fairly subdued place.
At least until someone committed the cardinal sin of breaking wind. "Has somebody farted?" piped up one fan. "Naw", said another, "it's the stench of failure".
Only when we were pulling into Glasgow Central did some random supporter dare to give a view on the game; "Levein will have learned a lesson today." The responses from his mates were fairly predictable - the first was "Aye...that he's s***" and the second was "How many lessons does he need to learn?"
Our nation is infamous for holding grudges and keeping chips on our shoulders, and so the name Kevin Blom will be remembered for a long while north of the border, for he was the incompetent and pathetic referee who decided that Danny Wilson's ball-winning tackle and the subsequent dive by Jan Rezek (the word 'simulation' doesn't seem appropriate here, as Rezek's collapse to the deck looked so fake that it invites ridicule and laughter as much as fury) was worthy of the Czech's equalizing penalty. Three minutes later, he was given the opportunity to right his wrong when Christophe Berra was felled in the box (there wasn't much contact, but those sort of fouls are given more often than not) - instead he chose to compound his errors by booking Berra for diving. Oh, the irony.
Mr. Blom will not be taking his summer holidays in Scotland any time soon, one suspects.
But he provides a useful scapegoat for Craig Levein, who took the opportunity after the match to cry for Blom's demotion (castration and crucifixion would be more popular punishments in the eyes of the Tartan Army) and so dodge some awkward questions about Scotland's performance, not least the facts that Scotland had created nothing in the final third prior to Kenny Miller's opening goal (courtesy of a keeper error) on half-time, the failure of a five man midfield to press the ball or provide anything more than a modicum of support to lone striker Kenny Miller for long periods - at times Miller could have done with semaphore flags to communicate with his teammates, such was his isolation - and the way that the Czechs were allowed to dominate possession as if Hampden Park was their ground, with Tomas Rosicky given acres of space to dictate play in the middle of the pitch.
It was not a vintage Scotland performance, not by a long shot; they were grateful for Milan Baros' horrendous miss from 6 yards in the opening minutes, and for another, less mentioned, oversight by Blom, who failed to give Baros a first half penalty after a reckless challenge from Charlie Adam. But Levein's gameplan for a must-win home match against a Czech Republic side who are barely a shadow of the great team of the early part of the last decade consisted of "ten men behind the ball, and lets see if we can fluke one at the other end". In fact, they nicked two, what with the two outstanding Scots, Kenny Miller and Darren Fletcher, finding the heart and guts to drag Scotland back in front late on before Blom's denouement. Scotland maybe created one more clearcut chance in the entire contest - two goals from three chances is one heck of a return. But they still couldn't win.
Five games into this qualifying campaign, we have just five points. Our only win was the debacle against Liechtenstein, where a 97th minute winner was required. Our only decent performance was in the match we were always going to lose, against World Champions Spain. The other games were a 0-0 draw in Lithuania, where both teams set out with no interest in anything but defending, and, of course, that game in Prague where the boss bet everything on that 4-6-0 strategy which few have forgiven him for.
It's just not good enough. I don't care that friendlies have produced victories over Wales, Northern Ireland and Denmark, for these are not the results that could have dragged us out of the fourth pot for the World Cup qualifying draw. Levein's competitive record shows two fairly typical traits for our national side, the ability to raise our game against illustrious opponents, and our difficulty breaking down minnows. However, Levein has shown an insistence on defensive, safety-first, risk-averse tactics and formations against everybody except Liechtenstein...even though most would say our side is better on paper than both the Czechs and Lithuania.
Scotland's group for the World Cup is a humdinger - Croatia, Serbia, Belgium, Macedonia and Wales. It's a group which you could imagine Scotland getting through from, with a little luck. It's also a group where you could just as easily imagine us finishing bottom. And Levein has had far less bad luck than his predecessor, George Burley; he was burdened with the Iwelumo Miss against Norway, as well as an unfortunate sending off that cost us in the return game, plus some horrendous refereeing away to Holland and a plethora of missed chances against the Dutch at Hampden. Mr. Blom's blunders at Hampden are the first time that fate has conspired against Levein's Scotland team; every other setback has been, frankly, their own damn fault.
Levein has plenty of supporters still behind them? Who else could we get who is better, they say? Many don't like Gordon Strachan, nor would they wind back the clock for Walter Smith. I would jump at having either of them in the Scotland dugout. I would dismiss the memory of Berti Vogts and be open to the appointment of a foreign coach. Frankly, I would even give the bloke who farted on the train a shot at it - I can't see it being much worse, though I suppose we couldn't call him 'a breath of fresh air'.
Still, at least that trip back from the ground made me feel better. As if the comments weren't enough to amuse me, I found myself sitting next to a middle-aged man from Latin America, who, it appeared from my eavesdropping, was Costa Rican. Thank goodness he didn't say it loudly; the last thing a bunch of depressed Scotland supporters needed was to know there was a man from Costa Rica in their midst as a reminder of another great embarrassment.
L.
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