One Day In Paris Transcript (Scotland: A Scottish History Podcast)
Note: Scotland is produced and designed to be heard, not read. We encourage you, if you are able, to listen to the audio, which provides insight which is significantly different to how it appears on the page. Transcripts are generated from the original scripts of the episodes. They may be slightly different to the corresponding audio and may contain errors.
Scotland - A Scottish History Podcast
Episode 60 - One Day In Paris
It is 9th October, 1996. You sit flanked by a pageant of the most die-hard fans you’ve ever met. People whose commitment to their country’s sporting endeavour knows absolutely no bounds.
These are people who have travelled nearly 2000 miles from their home country to a nation that most of them know nothing about. Perhaps not entirely due to their own ignorance… after all, Estonia has only been truly independent of the collapsed Soviet Union for five years.
Eight hundred of you in a stadium that’s little more than a municipal facility. All waiting in nervous, slightly drunken, anticipation to see the boys walk out of the tunnel.
It is almost 3 o’clock and the Scotland men’s national team is walking out onto the pitch below you.
All the names are there. Goram, McNamara, Boyd, Calderwood, McKinlay, Burley, Lambert, Collins, McGinlay, Dodds, Jackson.
Eleven Scots ready to go toe-to-toe with a team they had met only twice before. That’s the beauty of international football. Go to new places, meet new people, drink strange drinks with strangers and leave with new best pals.
But the Estonian national team wasn’t there. Not on the pitch, not in the stadium, not even in the city of Tallinn.
The match had been scheduled to kick off four hours later than this but the floodlights, hoisted into the air on cherry pickers and looking very, very temporary, were unable to illuminate the pitch sufficiently to play the match in the dark.
So the game was brought forward. Estonia, having an apparently rigid transport plan, refused to turn up.
You and 800 of your friends, all decked out in kilts, kits and all the other accoutrements of the Tartan Army fill the air with chants of ‘we only play in the daylight’ as you watch the team line up alongside the referee for the national anthem, as the captain, John Collins, takes on the coin toss and shakes hands with the officials.
The whistle blows, the match kicks off. Billy Dodds knocks the ball gently to Collins who jogs forward for a few steps until the whistle blows again.
The match is over… it lasted all of two seconds.
They still sing about it. There’s only one team in Tallinn.
This is Scotland. A podcast about history and where we made it, I’m Michael Park.
It is 10th June, 1998. Back home the Daily Record is running a front page with a photograph of the sky over Paris. In the celestine blue there are two vapor trails, crossing to make a saltire.
The team had come through a difficult qualifying including having to replay that ill-fated game against Estonia when the Scottish FA believed they should have been given a 3-0 victory by default.
You and a hardy band had followed them everywhere, been there for every goal, every late heartbreak, every moment of unrelenting joy, Gordon Durie’s final Scotland goal.
There were 800 of you that afternoon in Tallinn. Now, in the sun-drenched streets of St Denis, in the shadow of the giant, newly built Stade de France, you are legion.
They say that 60,000 Scotland fans, Tartan Army footsoldiers as you like to be known, have made the trip to France to see Scotland compete at the 1998 FIFA World Cup.
The nation was buzzing on the back of it. This was the pinnacle of football and 1998 was a vintage year with some of the best talent in the world on display… the likes of Zidane, Salas, Maldini, Beckham, Bergkamp… players at the height of their powers. People who could do things with a football that would turn your head 360 degrees.
And then there were Scotland’s opponents. The men drawn beside us to open the whole thing. Scotland were the main event on opening day of the 1998 World Cup.
The world was watching… it was anticipating… it was expecting us to get steamrollered by the best team on the face of the planet.
Scotland were playing Brazil, a team containing 21 individuals, wizards who could spin your head 360 degrees, pop it off, flick it over their heads and land it back on your neck before you’d even realised it was gone. They also had Dunga. Dunga played like he was competing to win a Mortal Kombat tournament.
Players that could destroy teams single-handedly. Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Denilson, Cafu, Rivaldo. These were players that were the faces of the world cup, not least through the Nike advert where they demolished an airport with sheer flair.
The Tartan Army doesn’t care. You don’t care. Because if you’re going to get taken apart then
You get there early - why miss a second of this? You take your seats among a bunch of folk you know from following Scotland around. The squad walk out, wearing full kilts and saluting the stands as the growing band of footsoldiers goes wild - with some even putting down their pints.
15 minutes to go until kick off. The stadium is packed and there’s now folk from all over the country crammed into this giant stadium, a behemoth modelled after a terminal at JFK airport.
60,000 Scots in the streets, probably closer to 20,000 in the seats.
And then the first of many strange sights on the pitch at the Stade de France that day. There’s Ricky Martin, global superstar and singer of the official world cup song leading a marching band out to the centre circle. You’ve had a couple of cheap wines but you’re pretty sure that’s a real thing that’s happening.
People are dancing in the stands, there’s a real latin vibe in the stadium - throughout the whole of France actually.
Even the opening ceremony which is a whirling hallucination of vibrant inflatable flowers and people hanging on trapezes from the rafters of the stadium has something of a samba-edged flavour.
Wait, is Ricky Martin really that popular or does that mean people think Brazil are going to win the world cup at a canter?
The Brazilian fans in the stadium certainly do. The teams step out onto the pitch, Scotland led by Colin Hendry, the towering defender with a shock of blonde hair who would look more at home in a comic book than on a football pitch.
The roars of the Tartan Army are almost, almost drowned out by the adoring cheers and wild whistles that accompanies every match that the Selecao play in.
You’re standing behind the goal that Scotland are attacking in the first half. You should be sitting but suddenly the knocking of yours and everyone’s knees around you has ruled out sitting as an option so you stand through the national anthems as you, the players, the staff and every other Scottish fan in the stadium belt out Flower of Scotland so loud you think people back home can probably hear it.
And they can, since millions of them are huddled excitedly around TVs all across the country.
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MIDROLL
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Kick off. Immediately Scotland are on the back foot. No wonder, with many of these players playing in the biggest games of their lives. Wee mistakes can be forgiven, will be forgiven.
After all if you’re this nervous and excited you can’t imagine how the players must be feeling.
It is 5.34pm local time. The match has been underway for four minutes and Brazil have a corner kick. Rivaldo, one of the undoubted stars among a team of stars steps up and curls a free kick in towards the near post of 40-year-old Aberdeen goalkeeper Jim Leighton.
As the ball comes in it’s heading for a point between the captain, Colin Hendry and midfielders John Collins and Craig Burley. And appearing in that space? Brazil’s centre back César Sampaio. It hits his forehead point blank and cannons into the net while the Stade de France erupts in a volcano of yellow and green.
The holders of the World Cup are ahead in the first five minutes. You and every other Scotland fan are suddenly deflated. What does this mean?
Will this turn into a demolition where Scotland’s heroes are forced to stand rooted to the spot while the Brazilians put on a show for the world’s TV audience?
There’s a little bit of every Scottish heart that’s pessimistic.
But suddenly the boys come out of the blocks and start to pile pressure onto the Brazilian back line, carving chances out of nothing and creating opportunities from set plays. The manager Craig Brown and his assistants would have had this in their gameplan.
Maybe not the goal but suddenly the pessimism floats away as Taffarel in the Brazil goal comes under pressure. At the other end Leighton is bombarded too but it’s going to take more than attempts from range to catch him out.
It is 5.49pm local time. A speculative cross into the box has Christian Dailly and Gordon Durie both rising to meet it while Kevin Gallacher, playing out of his skin up front darts across the box, getting wiped out by Cesar Sampaio, the Brazilian goalscorer.
The referee points to the penalty spot.
And then everything. Goes. Wild.
The crowd is ignited as the Scotland fans celebrate and the Brazilians remonstrate and the suits, guests of the sponsors, watch on non-plussed.
In an ocean of tumult there is one island of complete calm as John Collins places the ball on the penalty spot and waits for a moment while the referee deals with the last of the complaints.
The whistle blows.
One step. The Stade de France holds its breath.
Two steps. Everyone in Scotland holds their breath.
Three steps. It’s so quiet that you can almost hear a boot hit a football.
There’s a split second where you can hear doubt transform into hope as Collins’ strike passes the ‘keeper’s hand to his right.
Pandemonium. Collins is on his way to the Scotland fans in your section, leaping into a spin and pointing at the name on the back of his shirt - the one person from Scotland never lacking in confidence at that moment.
Scotland are going in at half time level with the World Champions. It’s clear though, it’s going to take a herculean effort in the second half to turn that draw into a win.
And as good as the Brazilian team are, for the first 25 minutes of the second half, it’s going as well as it can. Taffarel’s goal is being peppered with shots and as every minute creeps by the people of Scotland feel that maybe, somewhere, possibly, this could happen.
Even longshots make it.
It’s not just beating the World Champions - it’s winning the first group game of the World Cup. It’s giving every other team the fear factor going into games with you. It’s taking the pressure off. It’s showing the world’s media that Scotland aren’t to be taken lightly.
It’s the 74th minute.
Cafu, the Brazilian right back picks up the ball on the right hand side of the box and managed to take Tosh McKinlay out of the game with one incredible touch before trying a deft finish with the outside of his boot.
Leighton is there. He takes the shot in the face as he keeps it out. And in one moment - with your hearts in your mouths at the other end of the stadium - ecstasy turns to agony.
Tommy Boyd, charging back into position is in the wrong place at the wrong time as the ball cannons off the goalkeeper, off his chest and - agonisingly slowly - bounces over the line.
Brazil are 2-1 up and Scotland have lost their first game of the World Cup. Heartbreaking, but in the wake of the game people are talking about how well Scotland played, how if they could play like that for the rest of the tournament then they could at least make it out of the group.
Scotland had shown that the Brazilians weren’t infallible - they had weaknesses that could be exploited.
Crucially everyone believed that Scotland could achieve something. Upset the odds, make everyone proud.
Unfortunately, Scotland went out in the group stage, losing to Morocco and drawing with Norway. Brazil would lose their last group game against Norway - having already safely qualified - and then march onwards to the Final.
It would take France to stop them, beating them 3-0 in the final.
Dunga never did win a Mortal Kombat Tournament.
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There’s no real moral to this story but the World Cup 1998 was the last time the Scotland Men’s National Team appeared at a major international tournament.
Until this year, when at the time of production we go into the postponed Euro 2020 with matches against Czechia, England and Croatia to come.
Nobody expects anything from Scotland after 23 years absent from the big stage, but history shows us that it’s not about winning trophies. It’s about giving the country something to rally around.
The opportunity to come together - if we can.
The opportunity to take differences and throw them in the bin.
The opportunity to celebrate something, anything after almost a year and a half apart.
No Scotland, no party.
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You’ve been listening to Scotland, it was written and produced by me, Michael Park and is a production of Be Quiet Media.
Thank you to the Scottish FA and especially Michael Bochel for their help in making this episode and for giving us permission to use content from Craig Brown’s 1998 World Cup diary.
The music for every episode of Scotland is by our very own little miracle, Mitch Bain, you can check out more of his work at mitchbain.bequiet.media.
Jamie Mowat does amazing illustrations for us which you can see in our episode art. See more and buy prints at tidlin.com.
Scotland is supported by Chris Lingwood and listeners like you on Patreon. You can get loads more from us for as little as three dollars a month at: patreon.com/bequietmedia
You can find out more about the show and read transcripts on our website, scotlandpodcast.net and we’re on twitter, facebook and instagram. Find us by searching Scotland - A Scottish History Podcast.
Thanks for listening. Look after each other, wear a mask, get vaccinated if you can… we’ll see you next time.