2,000 and counting

I guess hitting 2,000 games in just under 50 years doesn’t constitute a terribly fast pace to the landmark, and you’d be right. Since my first game in late October 1972 the early years weren’t exactly chokeful of going to games. Indeed, 1972 to 1980 only saw sporadic games, and perhaps some are missing from my roster in that period, lost in the mists of time. Without the futbol app I wouldn’t have had a clue how many games I had been at, but I tried as best I could to trace back as much as possible, with morsels of valuable assistance from my great friend Stefano in Ancona, who especially helped with the disillusioned Meadowbank days when I had even stopped keeping a copy of a programme for my own records. I am forever indebted to him for sending some of these souvenirs of old back in my direction.

Tynecastle

It all started with being lifted over the turnstiles (if your dad could lift you, you got in for nothing!) into the enclosure below the main stand for Hearts v Arbroath on 28th October 1972, with Gordon Marshall senior standing out that day as Hearts pressed and pressed. I had long thought the game had ended 0-0, but in fact Hearts won 3-0, and this merely shows my unconvincing level of enthusiasm as I was apparently more interested in kicking a can around at the bottom of the steps than watching the game. 

It was 10 months before we went back, sat in the corner of the stand for a Dundee game in Aug 1973, a fairly near capacity occasion if I recall, when a missed penalty didn’t help the cause to reach the next round of the League Cup, and it ended 0-0. A couple of months later Burnley won 3-0 at Tynecastle in the old Texaco Cup. While that was an odd fixture, Airdrie also won 3-0 at Tynecastle in 1980 which was the only match I saw in the Anglo Scottish Cup, perhaps the subsequent name of the Texaco Cup. 

My first ever game outside Edinburgh was in August 1974, when Hearts were away to Dunfermline in the League Cup. We were on holiday in Kirkcaldy (unusual for us, as we always went to Orkney in those days), and it was the only occasion my dad and I were joined by my mum’s father, a man who had no interest in football, but he came along. The Pars won 2-1 but what sticks out most was a broken leg for Jim Leishman.

I guess dad wanted me to be a Hearts fan like him, and had it not been for the fan violence prevalent in the late ‘70’s, early 80’s I might have stuck around, but I wanted to go with my friends and my parents wouldn’t let me, so I rebelled and a few of us started going to watch Meadowbank Thistle from autumn 1978.

However, ahead of those memories, in my now 89 games at Tynecastle, the beating of Clyde in my first ever Scottish Cup tie in 1974 was a cracking game. Jim Cruikshank got concussed and had to be replaced in goal by Donald Ford. I do recall thinking Willie McVie of Clyde was a scary character, but Hearts would win 3-1. The most memorable European game of my life was perhaps my first (another one or two have ran it close), when Hearts came from behind to thrash Lokomotive Leipzig and win narrowly on aggregate. These two games, two or three years apart, might have been the occasions that sold football to me. The atmosphere was electric, just as it was thirteen years later when a cracking free kick rippled the Bayern Munich net and Tynecastle went berserk. Even before money ruined top flight football, Hearts beating Bayern was a famous old night.   

If those were the highs, the lows would come in the form of East Stirlingshire winning 1-0 at Tynecastle and Dumbarton absolutely thumping them 5-2 to deny Hearts promotion. By these occasions I was a Meadowbank fan, and indeed we were amongst a throng of Shire and Thistle fans at that famous East Stirling win. My dad had heart issues and tended to stay away from going, perhaps partly due to his son now off pursuing life in the lower leagues too, but I did convince him to go in September 1993 when Hearts were playing Atletico Madrid. My mum’s mother was in hospital at the Royal Victoria and while she went to visit, dad went for a walk up over Ravelston to get us tickets for this big Euro clash from Tynecastle. Alas, somewhere on a steep, quiet road in that vicinity, he had his third and ultimately last heart attack, as no one was around to help him, and in the days before mobile phones, he died right there on the street. It was a terrible shock for us all, but while he was taken too young, he somehow knew something wasn’t right and he’d been talking to me in the weeks prior to this fatal occurrence with regard to looking after mum. He also died doing what loved best, walking. When Meadowbank were stolen for the city many thought I would go and support Hearts, but I just couldn’t, I will always feel I let my dad down by going off to do my own thing, and while I always like to see them do well, I couldn’t put a maroon and white scarf on and cheer for them week in week out. I had to work that out for myself, and if 1993 was the worst year of my life, I wasted a couple of years in this passage of life unsure what to do next. My love of football returned and I pinned my tail to Inverness Caley Thistle, not only because I have northern blood, but more because it was a blank canvas, a brand new club, albeit with baggage, but that was before I got involved.

On three very memorable occasions I would be at Tynecastle supporting my “newer” clubs, but only once versus Hearts. In January 1980 Meadowbank used the venue to host Hibs in a Scottish Cup tie, with George Best in their line up. We kept the great man quiet that day, although he wasn’t the most mobile by that stage in his career, and while we lost 1-0, we took all the plaudits for running them so close. That remains the only Hibs goal I have ever seen at Tynecastle, as the two Edinburgh derby’s I would see in later years were 1-0 and 4-0 losses. Nearly five years later Meadowbank were once again using Tynecastle for the second leg of the League Cup semi final versus Rangers. We were 4 down from my only domestic game ever watched at Ibrox involving Rangers, and with 6 minutes left in the second game we led 1-0, until Ally McCoist denied us that rare lower league win over the Glasgow club. At that point only Berwick and Stenhousemuir had such a claim on their CV. As the baton passed from Meadowbank to Inverness, in January 2002, exactly 22 years on from watching George Best at Tynecastle, on a dreich afternoon, ICT would beat Hearts 3-1 in one of those great Scottish Cup scalps we were building a reputation of gaining. It was so wet, and the away stand so busy, Martin and I got drenched as our seats were near the front. I was in the shower by 5,30 having jumped in a cab after such a gleeful win.

If a stadium can tell a story of a football viewing, Tynecastle might be significantly less visited than Meadowbank or Caledonian Stadium, but the selective matches perhaps makes it more of a storyteller. In June 1989 the U16 World Cup was in Scotland, and while we saw games at Motherwell, Dundee and the final at Hampden, the Semi Final between Scotland and Portugal was an extraordinary occasion, with 29,000 literally squeezed in, a match that saw a fabulous 1-0 home win. These guys were just kids at the time, but Luis Figo and Paolo Sousa were in the Portuguese side.

Given all that has gone above, a Hearts versus Livingston game seems most appropriate for my 2,000th game. It all started at Tynecastle, and the visitors are the rogue bunch that got a crayon and wrote Livingston on top of Meadowbank Thistle’s beautiful badge. It’s a Scottish Cup tie too, and until it whittles down mostly to the tedious teams, it’s a competition I love.

Meadowbank 

255 of my matches watched (the most at any venue) were at the cold, detached stand at Meadowbank stadium. Mostly watching my own side, but latterly a few Edinburgh City games. I guess my words “cold and detached” shows how perhaps the end of Meadowbank has left a scar, but even before the very end I had started to drift away. The stadium lost its appeal, and perhaps at a certain point in life, while Meadowbank were punching above their weight things were great, but when it started to crash back down to the days of a mere handful at a bottom tier game, my enthusiasm wasn’t ready for that, but oddly I would embrace that now, as top end football just depresses me now.

The Meadowbank years seem like a rite of passage. Rebellion against the standard, and there was a lot of drinking eventually involved, hence some of the memories are fogged and hazy! In the early days Berwick Rangers seemed like a big club, and beating them 4-2 was something to be proud of, as was a barn storming Scottish Cup replay versus Clyde by the same score, when a Bully Wee fan walked across the track and laid his scarf on the away bench. A little time later, as Clyde seemed to be closing us down, he walked back and picked it up again! Raith Rovers were hosted just after the Commonwealth games when all the temporary stands were still up, and the venue took on a more continental feel. Another Scottish Cup memory from February 1991  saw us leading Morton 2-0 at half time in a replay, which encouraged Martin and I to start planning our trip to Celtic Park, only for it all to come undone as it inevitably did when the Greenock club were involved, and one name constantly sticks out Rowan Alexander, he was the Owen Coyle of his day for me. The irony regarding this devastating cup loss (we sat silently for ages after the final whistle), came 9 years later when we would finally see a cup tie at Celtic Park, and what a night that was, 8th February 2000 is etched into the pantheon of my football life, the night “Super Caley went Ballistic”! The first of three Scottish Cup successes versus the hoops, over whom we have a proud 3-1 record overall in that particular head to head, the same score as that magical night in the East End of Glasgow. I don’t think any other club has a winning record versus Celtic in the Scottish Cup.

In 1988 the rag tag brigade that were Meadowbank Thistle were on the cusp of making the top flight, but with only one team going up, a couple of fiddly refereeing appointments would put an end to it, and the venom that poured out against the referee at our 1-0 home loss to Clyde will never be forgotten. Atkins the Clyde keeper had carried the ball over the line and no one gave us anything. If Dumbarton had been the hammer of Hearts in 1982, six year’s later they were at it again in the capital, ending our chances with a 3-1 win. We finished second, good enough for a play off soon after, but sadly not that season. Hamilton went up, and we were at Douglas Park in good numbers for a 1-1 draw to bring down the curtain on a memorable season. Oddly Dumbarton remain one of the least seen teams in Scotland for me.

The Meadowbank promotions from the third tier (they only had three divisions in those days) saw us party on the pitch at Glebe Park with the Brechin fans in 1983 after a 1-1 draw. City would win the Championship, but the draw took us up too. The celebrations continued in an Indian restaurant at Haymarket that night, and whether it was the beer or the vindaloo, but the next morning the Supporters Club knocked Dundee out of the park at Inverleith (the only time we ever beat them!), but you wouldn’t have wanted to have been in that dressing room! The following weekend a Pomagne cork popping competition across the stock car track at Cowdenbeath saw the merriment continue. Four years later we would win our only ever Championship from the third tier, beating Alloa 1-0 away. I have no recollection of the events of that day whatsoever! 

By 1994 it was tailing off, the voices raised in protest were right, but there was nothing a small knot of fans could do to halt the inevitable, and as stewards cherry picked fans for the exit for singing songs against the Chairman. The atmosphere was poisonous and not enjoyable. March 1994 saw my last ever Meadowbank game, a 1-1 draw versus Stenhousemuir, but I am uncertain we even stayed until the end. With friends being lifted, I have a vague recollection of pushing the fire escape bar to get out ahead of the end, with words like “never again” being muttered. It was a sad full stop, but while Meadowbank would have plodded along in the lower reaches of Scottish football, and it hurt at the time, being free to pin my tail on a new venture lit my enthusiasm for the game once more, eventually.

Inverness

You aren’t supposed to be able to change your team, or you shouldn’t, however I do see younger people wafting in the wind always looking to cheer success these days, which in my book is pathetic. My football life has largely been about fighting against success, and when it has come along, it was almost as if we didn’t know what to do! Once I resolved that Caley Thistle were my team (Inverness wasn’t added for a few years) I threw myself into the venture. I had to convince myself of the commitment and bought shares in the club as a way of making it all feel real, and while circumstances have curtailed my charges up the A9, I have been 201 times, plus 19 other “home” games at four separate venues. Perhaps unusually, both Meadowbank and ICT have both had five different “home” venues, aside from the main stadium. Meadowbank used Tynecastle, Starks Park, Brockville and Ochilview, whereas Caley Thistle had an original home at Telford Street, plus Tannadice and Victoria Park for cup ties, and a full round of fixtures in our first season in the top flight at Pittodrie. I would have been at all 11 of these games had it not been for a snow cancelled game versus Dundee United just as I arrived in Aberdeen. It took me to Inverurie that day instead for a Scottish Cup tie.    

The ICT journey took me on an extraordinary boy’s own story adventure. We even managed to prick the Livingston bubble in our first season in the third tier (there were four leagues then!) and beating them at Almondvale 2-1 on the last day, a result that saw them crash from first to third was just hilarious. A rivalry was born that day. 

If Willie Gibson and Donald Park were early heroes at Hearts, followed by John Jobson and Walter Boyd at Meadowbank, Ian Stewart, Dennis Wyness and Ross Tokely became legends in the blue and red stripes of Inverness. Many have come and gone since, but the misty eyed memories of the early days always keep the stars most warmly recalled. 

Our trip to Tannadice to host Rangers 1995 was a first major moment for the club. Brian Laudrup and Paul Gascoigne were on duty as they eventually saw us off, but my one recollection was having the misfortune of having the only two huns in our stand right beside us, and oh god were they were two mouthy gits who would have fought us all! It spoiled the occasion. 

After Super Caley, we did it again beating Henrik Larsson and the rest 1,0 at the stadium, with a fizzing Martin O’Dear unable to shake hands at the final whistle. The triple Celtic beating came at Hampden, our third Scottish Cup semi, having lost the first two against Dundee and Dunfermline. However, the heroes of 2015 were made of stiff resolve and despite being pegged back twice, we found an extra time winner ahead of going on to win the trophy, with ten men versus Falkirk. The magic of that amazing day will never die. In the history of Scottish football, ICT winning the Scottish Cup is a rare moment of a modern fairytale. Why we never built on the magic of 2015 remains a mystery. It was a season when finishing third, won the Cup and played in Europe, this was as good as it got, and I suspect we will never see the likes again.

Falkirk had always been a bogey side, in one season they knocked us out of both cups and relegated us. It was our first ever major setback, a remarkable drop from 7th to relegation. It was oddly a feat that Terry Butcher would repeat as the Hibs boss. Beating them in the Scottish Cup final made up for all the heartbreak they had poured on us.

Memories of the Caledonian Stadium include Vetle Anderssen juggling the ball between his feet as he waddled down the left touchline in an 8-1 win over Annan, a piece of showboating that got him fined! In another cup tie, the chap beside me walked out at half time, 0-3 down to Ayr, but with 20 minutes to go we led 4-3 and that was how it ended. Unlike the Clyde fan who went back for his scarf, this chap never came returned! A New Year derby with Ross County, 3-1 down going into added on time saw Dennis Wyness score two in three minutes for a 3-3 draw! That felt like a win, and even more poetic as Owen Coyle, so often the hammer of us while at Falkirk, tried to take the ball to the corner flag without success, and we nicked it away to score the third. That goal fest thing was one of the trade marks of the Steve Paterson era, we just went out to outscore teams. Occasionally it went horribly wrong, but even at 0-4 at Airdrie I wasn’t chucking it, and okay it got worse that day ending up 6-0, our record loss, equalled only by losing to Morton amongst others by the same score, where oddly both of these clubs were managed by Ian McCall, another of our bogey boys! For the record, I think we always knew Steve Paterson had a drink problem and he looked pissed sometimes, but the extent of it only came out in his warts and all astonishingly honest autobiography.

Three down at Tannadice became a 4-3 lead for ICT only for a last minute penalty to be scandalously awarded, and at 4-4, it felt like a defeat!  We always struggled to beat Aberdeen at Pittodrie, but when we finally did see a game out there, it was a famous day, when at the 9th time of asking we won 2,0 in August 2008. Months earlier we thought we had cracked it but conceded an injury time equaliser. I have never been to a league game at Celtic Park or Ibrox, and now both clubs are banned in any capacity, aside from possibly a cup final. I won’t be seeing much of either of them ever again, and I am perfectly fine with that, as these draconian bigots should not be encouraged.

If losing to Morton in the cup was the most angst ridden defeat at Meadowbank, the season after ICT messed up Livi’s promotion, on the penultimate round of fixtures the 98/99 season, both clubs were going up, but the title was up for grabs. We were 4-0 down after 20 minutes at Almondvale, but had it back at 4-3 with 25 minutes to go. Despite throwing everything at them we couldn’t find the equaliser. It was a low moment, however the very next week I ventured north knowing that if we scored we’d be the first team since the twenties to score in every league match. Terry Christie, the great tactician at Meadowbank had his dufflecoat on a hook at Alloa by then, and he set his side up that day purely to frustrate that record. It took an 88th minute equaliser for us to get there, a magnificent accomplishment, if tainted by losing the title to ‘them’.

A few years later, having consolidated in the Championship, we were ready to step up to the top flight and had been hunting down Clyde all season. It wasn’t until the penultimate game of the season that saw us go top with a 2-1 win at Cumbernauld. We could start to dream then, seeing the job through a week later beating St Johnstone 3-1, sparking scenes of wild jubilation, rare outbursts of emotion in Inverness! Reaching the top league was great, it was where Inverness wanted to be, but having supported clubs who merely poked at big clubs in cup competitions, it took a long time, and I mean a long time to get comfortable in the rarefied air of the Premier League. Eventually it just became run of the mill, but I wouldn’t say it ever sat well with me.

Our second promotion to the top flight, a bit like Meadowbank’s second climb out of the basement, remains a bit of a haze, even though it was more recent in 2013. However, trailing Dundee by 15 points in October, we went on a bit of a run, that saw us eclipse them by season’s end sparking a “15 points, and you f***ed it up” song every time we head to Dens, but unless it is a cup tie now, it is another venue I will never step inside again after the shameful spring of 2020, which ripped the heart out of camaraderie and friendship between some clubs and friends. What comes around goes around, and the 2022 conclusion might put a few wrongs right. The age of innocence was over for me, and perhaps I arrived at that point later in life than others, but the whole episode was hideous, as were some people’s attitude. I started to see the world differently from that point.

High scoring games are always remembered first and a 4-3 win at Hamilton in more recent years was an extraordinarily crazy game. A run of the mill 2-0 lead saw 5 goals in the last ten minutes, with two absolute worldies from Liam Polwarth getting us level again at 3-3 and then putting us back in front in late dramatic fashion. What a brilliant night that was!

I am the only Inverness fan who was present at our first ever friendly and competitive game in Europe, something I am very proud of. Nykobing and Giurgiu are certainly not conventional places for such matches to have taken place, but they were two fantastic trips. Seeing my team play competitively in Europe is the pinnacle, and as I edge towards 600 ICT games, nothing will come close to that, unless of course we do it all again. The beauty of supporting a smaller side who can occasionally overachieve, it makes the special moments, exactly that, special. People who get used to winning are essentially bad losers.

The Best of the Rest

In a non-pandemic world, I would have reached 200 games outside the UK in 2020, but for now I am stuck on 197, with Stadio Sinigaglia, Como providing my last action overseas in January that year. The early games remain the true treasures, with Cesena v Catania in an over capacity stadio in 1987 a fantastic opener, as well as a similar scenes at Vicenza v Prato in a memorable game in 1990. It was even more awe-inspiring than watching Scotland in the World Cup Finals in Genova a few months later. Ancona reaching the Coppa Italia final of 1994 versus Sampdoria was an extraordinary occasion, but the days at the old Dorico are even more treasured, and beating AscoliM was just a fabulous day in 1991.    

I have been lucky in life, I have been to games in the Azteca, the Monumental, the Maracana, the San Siro, the Camp Nou and the Bernabeu in watching the game in 30 countries. Nowhere compares to El Cilindro in Avellaneda or El Centenario in Montevideo. That said, give me Arezzo v Pisa, Lucchese v Pisa or Monza v Ancona any day. I could dwell on others, but I have caught the flavour of my South American games previously, as well as Serbia v Croatia, singularly the most incredible game of my life, with Scotland v Norway in Bordeaux in 1998, the football day of my life outside Inverness winning the Scottish Cup, and our game in Giurgiu.

If seeing Lokomotive Leipzig at Tynecastle in 1976 had sparked an intrigue in all things East German, largely through it’s football, finally getting to games at Jena and Dresden more recently was a great high, and I will always be thankful to my friend Alex for making that first trip there a very smooth thing. Martin and I had enjoyed Dresden previously and a World Cup match in Leipzig. It is fitting Martin will be at my 2000th game as together we have watched a lot of incredible action in many lands and three continents! We went all the way to Japan to watch a Scottish based player score twice for Sweden; experienced the incredible atmosphere at Racing Club first together, as well as roaring with laughter after it became apparent Roma and Udinese were “hamming” up a draw to relegate Fiorentina. Another never forgotten moment was Stefano apologising for the ‘poor’ game we witnessed at Ancona. It had ended 5-3, it was terrific stuff!! With my other great buddy Andy, we shared the highs of Romario scoring a hat-trick in the Maracana for Vasco in a 5-0 demolition of Flamengo, and the wonderful tight terraces of the Villa Belmira, with Robinho and Diego pulling the strings for Santos. We oddly shared three games at the Amalfitani, Liniers, Bueños Aires, home of Velez Sarsfield, where five different clubs were involved, as well as our two Scotland World Cup games in Genova and Bordeaux. We will also never forget the female bareback horse rider, who changed up the touchline with an Atlante flag everytime they scored or won a corner at the Azteca in Mexico City.

In the UK my football watching has been on a journey with Doncaster Rovers, and a lock out crowd versus Cambridge at the old Belle Vue as they shot through League Two was an incredible game, as was watching them winning a Johnstone Paintpot trophy versus Bristol Rovers at the fabulous Millenium Stadium. Watching Halifax winning the FA Trophy at Wembley was another incredible day, tinged with sadness as a penalty miss had seen them relegated the week before. Edgar Street, Hereford was a real joy, as was a fantastic match at Mansfield when Newport County were in town. These games were watched with Stefano, and we’ve shared a whole whack of games in England, Scotland, Italy as well as three Faroese Internationals versus our respective nation’s up there, and also at Windsor Park, Belfast.

This essay could deteriorate into a ramble, if it hasn’t already, but I will highlight just a few other amazing moments from north of the border. Being at Firs Park, Falkirk the day Stranraer got promoted was a treat, and being at Ochilview the day they thought they’d gone up was a radio rumour gone mad. A couple of trips to Morton for other clubs who also experienced broken hearts there, just as it happened for Meadowbank and Inverness regularly at Cappielow. Forfar went there on the cusp of promotion to the Premier League, but a defeat set the dream back, and the Loons have never been that close ever since. Peterhead went there, for an all or bust game in the fourth tier when 9000 turned up. Ton won 1-0 and everyone on the pitch got involved in a nasty punch up at the end. 

While there have been great European night’s at Tynecastle, Hibs versus Anderlecht and AEK Athens were thrillers too. Raith entertained Bayern at Easter Road, and while they lost that night, it was an extraordinary event, as was watching Qos in Europe, albeit a sodden Airdrie night when nothing went for them, but then again, nothing went for Inverness at home to Astra, and the wheels spectacularly came off for Gretna in Europe despite scoring first versus Derry City. St Johnstone beating Rosenborg was a great night, and while Falkirk narrowly beat Vaduz they would go out. Vaduz should have gone through versus Livingston, but for a crazy referee. My colours were rumbled as I jumped up to celebrate the Liechtenstein goal that never was. It truly was a travesty. St Mirren got a football lesson from a fine Mechelen side back at old Love Street.

I am proud of the various European programme notes I have done over the years, for Dundee v Sartid Smederevo, Hibs v NSI, as well as for the Dons versus the same opponent. I have done the most articles for Aberdeen, where seeing Kairat Almaty at Pittodrie was just wonderful, as was going to Alkmaar to cheer them on too. However, way back in the 1984, despite being involved in a seven car pile up on the way (my only crash of my life). I had managed to avoid hitting the car in front (I was the only one), and by virtue the car was useable, so we continued to Dundee. Five of us were on our way to Tannadice for what transpired to be the last ever European Cup Semi-final played in Scotland! Dundee United beat Roma 2,0 that night. It’s a bit of a blur, the accident spoiled it for me, but despite that numbness, what a result.

We used to regularly go and watch the National team, starting with an unlikely Paul McStay beauty at Hampden versus Iceland. The ’80’s and ’90’s were a purple patch for the Scotland team. The wild celebrations scoring versus Norway to qualify, tempered by the horror of them hitting the post late. I broke my glasses that night such were the celebrations. It was a lot more sedate and almost expected when we beat Latvija to qualify once more. The International equivalent of Meadowbank v Morton, or Livi v Caley Thistle was Scotland v Belgium. Leading by two, we conceded territory horribly and ultimately the game, ending 2,2. That was another pivotal post match long sit. A 0,3 loss to Hungary in a friendly, with Stefano present took the gloss off the joy of going through to watch. I have cherrypicked ever since.

As money has continued to ruin competition, I have found myself dipping into non-league more and more. With the ladder now finally up and running, seeing clubs progress or falter is even more intriguing now. The first ever East of Scotland play off for a place in the Lowland League culminated in an extraordinary game at Broxburn on a day when for varying periods, three different sides were going up, but in the end, despite only having ten men for more than half the game, Bonnyrigg clinched a dramatic last second win breaking away to score as Broxburn were piling on the pressure from a corner to try and win it themselves. That is what football is all about, the adrenaline of the game, and businessmen at the top end have ruined it. 

Stefano has been at more than 50 games in the Uk, some of his family and friends have been at games too, as well as Andrea from Padova with just one solitary Hearts v St Johnstone game. Eight Argentines have had their photo taken at the Caledonian stadium, another two were at Banff for Deveronvale v ICT. Two Chilean girl’s were at Stair Park, Stranraer and loved it! A Brazilian friend has been at a variety of games, and German friends from Luxembourg were delighted to watch Linlithgow Rose v Preston Athletic. Tania experienced her first football in Bolzano and Como in January 2020. Football should unite and bring people together, and in general it does, but in a world where everything is under the microscope the lack of concern over the continued bigotry in the West of Scotland is a travesty.

I have never experienced so much joy of football and friendship as I did in St Petersburg in 2018, it was a true carnival of people across different continents. It was the best of my six World Cups I have been lucky enough to attend. I reserve the right to boycott Qatar 2022, a ridiculous awarding to an evil regime purely for money, and with the only place for the fans to enjoy a beer inside the stadium zone? This is not the spirit of football, none of it. I look forward to Canada 2026, and hopefully South America 2030. I have had the pleasure of befriending great characters in Argentina, Macedonia, and the Faroes in particular, sharing games as diverse as Boca v Racing and Serbia v Croatia through to EB/Streymur v Giza/Hoyvik in the Faroese second tier. .

I might never make it to 3000 games, I will keep going for as long as I enjoy it, and while the pandemic delayed this milestone, the desire to chase numbers or new stadia is not the point, it’s never been the point, although I have enjoyed going to places to bring them to life for Football Weekends. I miss going to Italy, Argentina and Uruguay, but a calm has been my lesson from this period of life, and rushing anything has gone. Let the time come, and when it does allow more relaxed travel once more, I won’t take any of it for granted, revelling in it more than ever. This pandemic cannot have come for no reason, we have to take some lesson, and alter our ways and/or thinking. Here’s to my next 1,000 games, and I still dream of retiring from the canchas with a ticket for the 2030 World Cup Final in El Centenario, Uruguay. Dreams are made of such.