Book Review – Bring Me the Sports Jacket of Arthur Montford: An Adventure Through Scottish Football by Aidan Smith

Over 46 chapters, journalist Aidan Smith, once a fanatic programme collector, then a dangerous obsessive, who is now under control without a restraining order, takes us through the wonderment of Scottish football in an episodic wandering of the mind which enriches the spirit. As a book it can be dipped in and out of so that you find that which attracts you most – any headline mention of MY team – and that which intrigues you more – anecdotes from a time you remember…

But this is far more than just a few wee stories flung together because the author is a seven-times winner in the Scottish Press Awards – though nobody says of what, could have been the raffle – but Smith cannot help himself from doing the research – though Davie Robb and the Princess of Monaco is still a startling mystery.

This is where I got particularly hooked on it. I was captured by the breadth, but Smith has also got the depth. This has anecdotes which include recent catch ups and informal interviews with people whose names I recognise as well as reports and stories of names I probably forgot but of whom I am happy to be reminded. It took me from the obscure like how former Ranger (Johannesburg) and Partick Thistle trialist (just the once, but once…) Bill Martin (who wrote the 1970 England World Cup anthem despite being from Govan – he also penned Puppet on a String for the Eurovision) got to the 1974 World Cup courtesy of Rod Stewart to the well-known like Archie Gemmill and that goal… Equally these have the authenticity of recent discussions Smith has had with both Martin and Gemmill: it makes the stories that bit better.

Smith writes with a distinctive flair – that he has not fallen over as his tongue is so embedded in his cheek, he must be lopsided when he walks is miraculous– and with that he manages to retain a lightness of touch throughout. His approach is to take some of the mysteries or weel kent myths and re-examine it to give us something more and so I am reminded of the wait for the results on a Saturday at five to five, which was never crackerjack, how Rick Wakeman ended up at Meadowbank, why some traffic wardens in the central belt asked Dougie Donnelly to move his terms of reference to Alloa, which Rangers (non-South African) player read War and Peace, why 11 Danes ended up in Greenock, how a nine goal fashionista ended up in the States whilst a nine goal embarrassed international goalie ended up acting in Australia, as well as the infamous Gullane Dunes, though I was unaware of their connection to Hearts!

It is a book filled with characters not least the author himself, who impressed with his chat up line which snared him his wife, as well as characters of the game like Haldane Y. Stewart, Tony Green and that man Montford himself. The title is a nod to the fact that of the two stalwarts of Scottish television, Montford always had the air of a bank manager giving you good news – even when it was a 4-0 drubbing. The other stalwart, Archie MacPherson, always seemed on the lookout for a goalmouth stramash or something to tie his hair down with in a wind; he was less authoritative, but equally distinctive.

As a smorgasbord it adds so much, and this makes the read that much better. If you are looking for a serious tome that delves into the reason why VAR should be challenged or how the offside rule has changed over the years, you are looking at the wrong book. But if you fancy an irreverent dribble through the stories of another time, down the wing of a fact that has been kept secret but is well known, watch cheeky keepie-uppies in front of World Cup holders whilst reliving the dream that turned into your own Argentina or the metaphorical goal through the legs of an English keeper – read on MacScruff….

But what I yearn for now is that book about Hibs … shouldn’t take as long as this one did, should it?

Donald C Stewart

(Publisher: Arena Sport. November 2022. Hardcover: 208 pages)

 

Buy the book here: Bring Me the Sports Jacket

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2022 World Cup from afar…

I believe that your relationship with the World Cup can be defined by your very first experience of it. It means that I believe that Europe is dominated by the Dutch and the Germans, the favourites are always the Brazilians who are flawed geniuses and that my own home country, Scotland should always be there and never be beaten but never escape the group stages. 1974, became for me, Muller v Cruyff and I backed the loser.

And so, 2022, the Dutch and the Germans are there, even if for one it was temporary, and the Brazilians are touted as favourites but are still described as flawed whilst Scotland seem to be giving it a miss. And, of course, as a Scot who watched the ‘74 version, England should not be there… But they are…

Right now, you cannot mention Qatar without the politics. I am in the camp that says this should not be in Qatar. Politics has always been there or thereabouts in football as it was in the 1978 World Cup in the Junta led Argentina whilst in 2018, I am not quite sure how the Russians stacked up…

But it’s there and it is happening, and you cannot ignore how much of a cracking tournament it has been. The group stages have managed to bring some shocks and talking points which show, once more, that the prejudice of the past – Europe good, rest of world, not so good – is increasingly a thing of the past. Colonialism aside, the great game has taken the lessons of the past and not just brought some South Asian flair and samba but some African grit and determination.

This truly feels like a World Cup.

Europe has suffered some early failures. Germany and Belgium being two of them, but we can also add in everyone’s wee national team – Denmark. Eriksen’s near death experience at the Euros was broadcast across the world and the sympathy brought his nation to our hearts. Unfortunately, it would not bring them to the 2022 knockout phase.

Belgium have flattered to deceive for years. If they could just get through on the shoulders of one player, they would have been champions of Europe, the world, the universe, the milky way… But De Bruyne does not a winning side make as they say in Flemish… now…

Germany was inefficient. And a bit rubbish in their first game. It’s all a little, un-German for the Germans. The high standards they set themselves are, of course, based on winning the damn thing so damn often – sometimes because the officials don’t come from the former Soviet Union …

In the Middle East we are quite used to the vast sums of money being offered to players at the tail end of their careers to go over there and play out their last few seasons. What we are less likely to experience is their national teams managing to pull off shocks, like the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia managing to beat Argentina. Of course, not to be outdone, the Japanese were able to knock nails in the German coffin by beating them convincingly. In turn, they then got beat by Costa Rica, so perhaps they shall complain about that, though it might lead to some challenge over balls going over lines and goals not really being goals…

Also emerging were Morocco who borrowed the hammer from the Japanese and set about Belgium and Roberto Martinez’s coffin. They topped the Belgian group. They never lost a game. They are from Africa – what is going on?

Of those who got out their groups, were damaged in the process but survived? France and Brazil. They got beaten by Tunisia and Cameroon respectively and may feel like they have much still to worry about. France looked vulnerable and whilst Tunisia was perhaps, just getting the French back for having been a French colony which means many of their players could be eligible to play for either country, the French did of course get through the last 16 so the worry was a tad temporary.

If Le Blues looked vulnerable, then Brazil looked, well flawed. Of course, Richarlison’ s goal is THE goal of the tournament so far and given that the January window is close I wonder if Spurs will be getting ready to cash in or face off all pirates?

For me, though it was the heartbreak of Group C which captured me. Messi finally looked like he could escape club football and Lewandowski got his goal, was where I think I began to see who may win the tournament. The Poles were perhaps a little fortunate to get out the group – that luck did not last, whilst the Mexicans just fell short, but it was a fascinating storyline which had it all – including the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia making their mark.

If Messi finally emerged, then Ronaldo spoke volumes on a pitch rather than in an interview as he became the first male striker to score in 5 World Cups. The plucky Ghanaians were a delight, and all dressed up like a carnival was about to break out. Unfortunately, such festivity is not encouraged in the likes of Qatar and so they were always going to have to leave their own party.  The emergence of Bruno Fernandes, a one-time colleague of Ronaldo at a club in the northwest of England might just have seen us witnessing the beginnings of a challenge for the Golden Boot – a certain Mbappe will have something clearly to say about it.

But will either be in a team that can score 7 in one game like Spain. Their demolition of Costa Rica, which was followed by Costa Rica beating Japan, was indicative of the helter skelter nature of the group stages. There should have been nobody able to touch the Spanish but having made a  statement on a world stage they seemed to decide to want to mumble on the side-lines thereafter.

Also emerging from the group stages was Australia. Their team is littered with players who have made their careers in British – often even Scottish – football. So far, they have been relatively unexciting.

As one former colony managed to make it through, another, Canada, departed. One of the lessons that Canada brought was the value to their players of having the World Cup as a platform for them – a few have been mentioned now as targets for Premiership clubs.

And so, what of England? There were a few people who hoped that their sterling work in the Nations League with their form in that competition would transfer into this tournament… Aside from one game, Southgate’s Surrogates have got through. The second half against Wales was ruthless. You would have thought they could have come together with mates and agreed two goals a start and jumpers as goal posts to allow the other home country to progress but no, not even for mates… It makes expectation for a team which was last to falter at a major competition at the very last game, rise to the point of near fervour. I feel for them. They went on to face a team who managed what they could not – to win their continental championship – Senegal. To be fair Senegal managed to get through a group which included the Dutch who are always a hit or miss, the Qataris, and the one team that ought to have got through – Ecuador. They could be called lucky rather than plucky, but their luck ran out. Meanwhile, England’s failure to beat a team who cannot even spell football, the USA, showed that England can be thwarted. It took the Dutch to split the bill and dandily stop the Yankee Doodle.

Croatia, Switzerland and South Korea also got through their groups but not many are seeing them as genuine contenders. Croatia ducked behind the Moroccans and held back the Belgians so it might be that their progress has more to do with a certain Modric and the lack of quality brought to Qatar by the world number 2s – Belgium. The Swiss were second to the Brazilians in a fairly perfunctory series of games which might make them ready to expect things to stay perfunctory: they may be in for a shock. South Korea, having managed to build a national side during and after their home tournament into a world force, made Luis Suarez cry. Quiet a few people love the South Koreans.

Aside from all that, the appearance of the very first all-female refereeing complement, the controversy over whether the Iranian football team sang their national anthem properly and the Germans making a point by holding their hands to their mouths, this has been a VAR and extra time World Cup. VAR has not been as advertised. It sorts little out and delays things. People suggested it would resolve the arguments. It has only gone and created new ones. Why? Because it is operated by humans. And humans are… humans.

The additional time being played could suggest that we have a last goal the winner rule for the final OR we could be waiting until 2024 for the result. And we all know there is nothing that would ever cancel the football like a pandemic …

I have to say I am looking forward to the rest of the tournament. As to who will win it, my heart wants Brazil, especially given the current state of health of my all-time favourite player, Pele, but my head says that Argentina look likely. And as for England, well, now they face the French next, the place to head to is Leeds for that game. Matchroom are about to announce a fan friendly event at their world title fight between IBF featherweight champion Josh Warrington and Luis Alberto Lopez. In the First Direct Arena they plan to interrupt the night of fighting to show the game. Thereafter there shall be fighting. It will be interesting to see if that is in a ring or in a crowd outside the ring…

And you heard it here first… from a Scotsman…

And see, you can get through something on the World  Cup without mentioning 1966…

Oops…

Donald C Stewart

Follow on Twitter @CommuneArts

Mr. Kane questions his DNA

Ancestry…

The logo on the envelope was blinking at him from his mantelpiece. The guy from the Middlesborough Mercury, was in his living room catching up with that interview he promised to give after the disaster of the Ballroom Dancing Championships over at the prestigious Mecca of Ballroom Dancing, Blackpool.

Mr. Kane had taken his premium stars over with high hopes of winning the entire competition. Their first contest against an unfancied team from somewhere in the east, was a complete delight.

Easily winners there were high hopes of the team of which he was captain, progressing into the next round. This was after a summer of mishaps and less than impressive performances, home and away, before they faced a USA team that flattered to achieve.

The future of the team’s progression now was in the balance and a final team contest against the National Team of Wales beckoned. In a fit of arrogance, Mr. Kane had been asked by the Mercury if they could chart his progress, and many in the paper thought he would be lucky to still be captain of the team by now, though he was utterly convinced he was in it to win it…

And now he looked over at the reporter in his living room who had just asked about the envelope on his mantelpiece.

Picture the scene…

A nervous Mr. Kane, sitting with questions hanging in the air. A reporter balanced on the edge of an uncomfortable couch poised with pen hoping for some answers. In between the air is heavy with expectation but for Mr. Kane he feels it is like a trap. Given the results he has been captain for in Blackpool – that uninspiring draw with the Yanks – he is cautious over what the reporter wants to ask…

“What do you mean?” Stall for time, he thinks, that’s what to do.

The reporter, not long out of university, is slightly caught off guard. An old hand at the newspaper had told him to make some nice comment about the house in the interview so that the interviewee feels more at ease. It was a simple comment, and not without any understanding. The reporter’s uncle had gone and got his DNA tested months ago and found out he was half Swedish. Caused one hell of a row in the family, given that his father and mother had given some guy called Sven bed and board decades ago during a summer dad was away working on the oil rigs…

Mr. Kane’s response was curious. The other piece of advice given to the reporter was, that if any question gets an odd response… probe deeper… but don’t be too obvious about it…

“So, tell me, Mr. Kane,” he began. “What did you think of Harry’s performance, particularly in the Tango?”

Harry had been the subject of much abuse and criticisms of late as team talisman, so it was only naturally, thought the reporter that the chance for some redemption in the USA match would be taken.

Mr. Kane grabbed at the distraction, though he was unaware it was a distraction. He responded, “Harry put in a fantastic performance. Whenever he puts the sequins on it brings out the best in him. He had a fantastic dance, and he did previously too. I am really happy for him. He’s had some tough moments in the last year or two, but he’s shown his quality.”

Taking some notes down to record Mr. Kane’s thoughts, the reporter then shoots out with, “and the Ancestry stuff is that a bonding thing with the team?”

Mr. Kane is caught off guard. “No,” he blurts out, a little too quickly.

“Just something personal then, is it?” shoots back the reporter.

Mr. Kane is disconcerted once more. “I am not quite…”

“Oh, our readers are always curious, you know, about the man behind the headlines.” That was his favourite piece of crap he would spout at interviewees. Got him an A on a university assignment once. “Nothing of consequence, I am sure, but we like to flesh out the man. For the public. They can be so more understanding if they have a whole picture.”

Mr. Kane is not convinced but smiles, hoping that it is enough to deflect the thrust of the questioning.

“Hopes for the next match. Win I suppose?” the reporter asks next.

Mr. Kane looks again at the envelope and realises that it has been opened. Someone knows and it is not him. He was saving that for later. A quiet time and not for someone else to spoil. This is appalling. Who could have opened it? The postman? She always looked shifty. Since she started the hormone treatment, she was a different person, or so he thought…

Mr. Kane becomes aware of the air of expectation in the room and realises that he has not yet answered the last question. He can’t even remember what the last question was.

“Sorry,” he begins. “I have just realised that I have something very important to do and will need to get the sequins for it sewn on before lunchtime.”

The reporter smirks as he stands and looks at the envelope. He turns to Mr. Kane and asks, “so, if you get through the group stages, I shall be looking for a follow up interview, Mr. Kane.”

“Of course, yes, whatever you want, we can schedule that in, any time. You have my number and can give me a call, whenever suits. That will be fine.” Ushering the reporter, off the couch and into their coat, through the living room and along the hallway, towards the front door, the reporter stops at it and turns.

“Now, Mr. Kane,” he begins. “I do hope that you will be true to your word, and we shall talk again, whatever the result with Wales may be. I am used to sly and sleekit people who promise one thing and deliver nothing.”

Mr. Kane gulps. That is exactly what he was going to do. He takes in a big gulp of air, crosses his fingers and toes and responds, “of course not. We shall talk soon.”

And with that opens the front door and prods the reporter out of it.

Once the door is closed the view on either side of it could not be different. The reporter flips open his phone, calls his editor and speculates with a smirk, what might be in that contentious envelope.

On the other side, a worried Mr. Kane darts back to the living room to find his wife standing with the envelope in her hand.

“Did you know?” she asks.

“Know what?” he responds.

“I should have known,” she begins, “getting to the Championships by the skin of your teeth, then showing signs of faltering against weak opposition and ending up with one match likely to decide your fate.”

“So what?”

“You’re half bloody Scottish, that’s what…”

 

Whilst the author, asserts his right to this as an original piece of work there is no evidence that Harry Kane is half Scottish, unless you know differently, so this is clearly a piece of fiction, though we have used some words spoken by captain Harry Kane as source material.

The fact is that after the USA match where England looked at best, lacklustre, Harry Kane gave an interview where he praised under fire colleague Harry Maguire thus, “Harry put in a fantastic performance. Whenever he puts the Three Lions badge on it brings out the best in him. He had a fantastic game and he did against Iran too. I am really happy for him. He’s had some tough moments in the last year or two but he’s shown his quality today and it was a really important clean sheet.” At the time of writing many Scots are learning the words to Men of Harlech…

 

Donald C Stewart

First appeared on the Scottish Football Supporter’s Association website https://scottishfsa.org/

Book Review – We Made Them Angry by Tom Brogan

“These supporters can win you the game. When I hear them, the hairs on my neck stand up. They must be the best in the world. It makes me want to finish my career back in Britain. But Scotland will have to play with the passion they showed against us in Mendoza four years ago.”

Jonny Rep, who scored against Scotland in the 1978 World Cup, putting us out of it, prior to the final game for Scotland against Russia in the 1982 World Cup.

Front cover

When I went to university, my first encounter with my History Professor was just after he had published his new book on World War One. When asked about the reviews that he should expect he told us these mattered little as most of his contemporaries would not read the book, just look at the bibliography and sources he quoted. From there they should be able to work out what he thought and his opinion of the principal facts; all of which were not in doubt.

At the time, it appeared odd.

Reading We Made Them Angry by Tom Brogan reminded me precisely of that discussion. Of all the books you will ever read, I would challenge you to find one that is as well researched and documented as this. There are not just references made to player’s biographies but also to obscure matchday programmes, interviews, many of which are long forgotten and a bibliography which includes periodicals, websites and scholarly tomes.

It is all in aid of telling a tale of World Cup redemption under the leadership of arguably the best manager Scotland ever produced, Jock Stein. It is of a campaign sunk in the midst of more noticeable and argued over World Cup Group failures – ’74 when we never lost, ‘78 when we lost our dignity, ’86 when we lost our leader, and ‘90 when we last graced the competition, and thus thereafter lost our place on its stage.

1982 was the year of two headlines – a toe poke and a collision. Both with connotations of violence which the Scottish Football Association were nervous about fans displaying under the Spanish sunshine whilst on the terraces, but we were undone by both, ironically, not in the stands but on the field of play.

Brogan has much to say about both, but to his credit they do not dominate the tale he tells. He begins at 7am on Wednesday the 14th of October 1981, in Belfast. It is the culmination of the campaign to get to the World Cup in Spain; we are one game away. It is symbolic. Not just that this was a game being played by the Scottish national team in Northern Ireland for the first time since 1972 but as a Scotland fan, it is always games close to the wire which hold significance. We are past masters at taking the entire process and holding it on a knife edge prior to destroying ourselves; at least that has been the majority of our experiences…. 1982 was little different.

To be reminded of the fact that we were in the midst of five World Cup Finals in a row, rather than it being a painful memory, stirs the blood and I have fond memories of the processes of getting to World Cups which, unlike now, were expected to be successful. I have not often agreed with Graeme Souness, but here I can wholeheartedly, insofar as these were our World Cups, the process of qualifying. Brogan is highly expansive in the build up and in the detail, he brings to the table.

But it is here where I began to struggle just a little.

Academic treatises tend to have their bibliographies and footnotes but keeping your reader onside needs the yarn told swiftly with pace and flair. The interruptions to tell of each significant player’s background, fascinating to start with, becomes slightly irritating as we progress. Turning some of the reference points into footnotes or refences would not have diminished the authority with which this story is told but enhance the structure with which it is enjoyed.

I don’t know if I really wanted to know as much about the Russian coach as I found out, that Alan Hansen was born in Sauchie or the tartan background of so many of the New Zealand team, but to be fair, it was interesting to read. But it took nothing away from the authenticity of the research. It felt authoritative. It was interesting to note that Alan Hansen turned down a trial with Hibs so he could play a golf tournament or that The Game (a fictional account but a very real emotional rollercoaster of Scottish fans going to Argentina in 1978) was broadcast on STV in opposition to the night of BBC Cup Final Sportscene’s highlights programme or of the machinations in government which could have seen the Scottish team being pulled out of the entire Finals due to the worsening military and political situation in the Southern Hemisphere, but they could have been crafted in a more integrated manner.

That political situation was the Falkland’s War and Brogan quotes from a number of sources over the possibility that the team would have to bow to pressure and not play in a contest where the possibility that they may meet on a field of play, a country fighting them on a field of battle, was very real. In the end opinion swayed all and Scotland went to the Finals. Brogan quotes widely from official documents released in 2012 as well as players like Danny McGrain who reflected that a poll in the Daily Record wanted them to play, Graeme Souness who responded to the news that the Task Force wanted them to play and Kenny Dalglish who seemed unaware of it all! In the end, the government wanted them to go, so go they went. It is interesting to note that this is the equivalent today of asking Ukraine the defenders to withdraw from sport rather than Russia, the aggressors.

The other political back drop of which I was unaware was the Home Internationals and how playing in Belfast had become such an issue. It clearly feels a far more violent time and Brogan does well to draw our attention to the historical detail which some may have called a more naïve period in our collective history but is in reality far more sensitive to the cause of offence than some would admit. Names of the past who had their teeth cut administratively within that context find a voice and Brogan tells it as it was, without much by way of criticism. It is a refreshing feeling that we, as a reader, are given the notion of being able to form our own views.

What I also enjoyed was the detail around how the authorities dealt with the preparations and the scandal of the tickets and Mundiespana, the post competition reflections from the likes of Jim McLean and where there was disappointment and dissension, it was noted and explained. These appealed, as much to my interest in the Scotland team as to my academic prejudices.

Back cover

Perhaps my favourite part of the entire book, as a proud Scot, is the claim, borne out by Brogan’s meticulous evidence is that 1982 gave birth to a phenomenon which has endured – The Tartan Army. Rather than disgrace themselves in the sun, as some worried would happen, the Scottish supporters excelled. Warm, friendly and in some cases under extreme provocation, given that Argentina was a Spanish speaking country, they behaved and earned the highest of praise. I am sure that there were many who followed the competition who were disappointed that the Scots did not get through. The voices that Brogan brings of the fans who went and saw the glory of their country are very worthy of reading. Of the drinking competitions, the water polo playing by a guy from an estate in Dunfermline or the ways in which they travelled there and came back, derring-do is made de rigueur.

Of course, for Scottish fans two events defined the Finals.

Firstly, when Jimmy Hill called Dave Narey’s goal against Brazil, a toe poke, he meant it as a compliment. Most Scots did not take it as such, and Hill enjoyed notoriety in Scotland from that point onwards. It was not always good natured, however, but the goal led to an alleged conversation, not in the book, where one Scottish player was to say to another, I think we have annoyed them! On the terraces the quote became the title of the book – we made them angry. Having woken them up, the samba perfect Brazil went on to beat us 4-1 in an exhibition of football which was a privilege to watch, and according to the players, quoted in the book, with which it was a privilege to share a pitch.

Then came Willie Miller and Alan Hansen bumping into each other in an attempt for both to clear a Russian attack, which led to Russia scoring. It has become part of our folklore that this was blamed for putting us out of the competition. As Brogan makes very clear, it was a little more complex than that, but a draw was what finished us. The perspective of fans, the manager, pundits and both players add to the understanding Brogan brings to the debacle.

And as the final game drew its veil over our participation, it was indeed a draw, once again that did for us. We should have known. In ’74, all we did was draw, in ’78 the draw with Iran became the headline, ’82 was the draw with Russia, ’86 the draw with Uruguay and then in ’90 all we needed was … a draw. And guess what we did not get…

Despite it being very heavy on the evidence, this is a book which does great service to a World Cup Finals which drew us back into the realm of some dignity. 1978 was not just a tough watch but for someone like me, an Ayr United fan, a tough experience as our greatest ever manager was castigated for one of the greatest footballing disasters which befell any national team. Brogan has the material to dwell on what we were good at, because we were, and this lends authority to the memory of a time when we expected to be at the top table.

Donald C Stewart

 

(Publisher: Pitch Publishing Ltd. April 2022. Hardcover: 384 pages)

 

Buy the book here: We Made Them Angry

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Book Review: His Name is McNamara by Jackie McNamara (with Gerard McDade)

Book front cover.

“I should have played you more son.”

So said Martin O’Neill after Celtic icon, Jackie McNamara’s testimonial at Celtic Park, and it is a wish that we all had, when he retired from playing. According to his autobiography, it is a sentiment that he wishes the national manager, Craig Brown shared. But of that, more later.

There is perhaps a prejudice about footballers that they are perhaps a little less than bright. Bucking the trend has always been the likes of Pat Nevin, the reluctant footballer, but here we have a man who has faced death and returned to tell the tale whilst combining a career that went from being a cultured player on the park to a much-lauded manager that ended with a curious position as a Chief Executive. Aside from the managerial role, the parallels with Nevin are secure.

His Name is McNamara is a stellar run through the career within football with the backdrop of a collapse at home on the 8th of February 2020 which shaped his future and weaves throughout the biography. McNamara suffered a brain haemorrhage that day, which saw him hospitalised for a prolonged period of time.

His tale begins with McNamara telling us one thing that, on reflection, we should have known – he is a fighter. Given that he ended up in surgery more than once, it should have been more obvious, but then again, as he explains, he is a middle child. His story takes us from that settled and loving family environment through an apprenticeship, to an icon in a hooped shirt, a Midlands sojourn, a North East swansong, a fledgling managership in Glasgow, a mixed experience beside the Tay and then to be the next English import in lower league football ending with a curious period of time as a Chief Executive. Running throughout is the story of his illness and recovery from the darkest place; it makes for a powerful read.

Throughout he pays special attention to those to whom he owes a debt. For example, there is a touching reference to Sandy Brown, the “someone” who saw his potential and started his progress in the professional ranks. His first club, Dunfermline Athletic then managed by the legendary Big Jim Leishman, now the mayor of Dunfermline was critical.  ‘Big Leish’ was one of the biggest characters in Scottish football, though for McNamara, his influence was short lived as he was off, soon after his signing in the way that many managers are mutually relieved of their duties. McNamara became introduced to the fleeting passage of a football manager.

His senior debut, thanks to another Scottish legend, Jocky Scott came in the B & Q Cup – it would take too long to explain what that was – but from such minor cups came the man who would bag 4 Scottish Premier League titles, 3 Scottish Cups, and 2 Scottish League Cups, as well as appearing as player and manager in 6 other cup finals! It’s a remarkable journey and McNamara keeps the foot on the gas as he tells it.

By the time that McNamara was at Celtic, when there were trophies being won, it was also during his time when Rangers were going for 10-in-a-row. Achieving a 10th Scottish Premiership title would have handed their bitter rivals the ultimate boast – that Celtic’s greatest domestic achievement of winning 9 titles in a row was now second best to Rangers’ domestic achievement of 10.

McNamara tells of how manager Wim Jansen, in his one and only year as manager of Celtic, stopped the 10-in-a-row party in Ibrox. It is already the stuff of legend, but McNamara provides insights into all the backdrop, the background and the respect Jansen held during his time in charge. Such insight includes how the “Smell the Glove” t-shirt came about – which is mundane and fascinating – and the bizarre nature of the management in the club at the time – which is not. This includes the match in Portugal they had to play just after winning the title came about because it was part of the contractual agreement that brought Jorge Cadete to Celtic. From the outside, this was one of the increasingly bizarre episodes of the time and it ended with Jansen despite being the hero of the season not being given another contract.

And then there were the Scotland games.

Programme from McNamara’s final cap for Scotland

McNamara appeared at a World Cup and the infamous game played in Tallinn. The home side, Estonia refused to show up and Scotland kicked off against nobody. It was where McNamara made his international debut, lasted 3 seconds and never touched the ball. Mind you, neither did 9 of his teammates!

McNamara though not shy to criticise, does so with decorum. Of course, there are those with whom he did not quite get on – Ian McCall being one, Craig Brown another – and those with whom he had a flourishing relationship – Simon Donnelly (Sid), John Hartson, Martin O’Neill and Henrik Larsson (who wrote the foreword). For each there are words of truth written without rancour and without hyperbole. It is true that he lets his feelings out, but he recognizes where his bitterness should end and his understanding, given the circumstances he has found himself facing, colour his views of the past.

From Celtic he found himself signed for Wolverhampton Wanderers, helping them get to the play-offs, then to the twilight of his career in the Premiership with Aberdeen, before signing for Falkirk. His time at Falkirk included a loan spell at Partick Thistle which was prematurely ended by a horrendous leg break at Somerset Park. I know, I saw it. He recovered, signed permanently for Thistle and then took his first steps into the dugout by becoming their manager, following Ian McCall’s departure, for the 2011/12 season.

I interviewed McNamara when he was the boss at Partick Thistle and aside from the well-worn cliché used to describe him – that he appeared to be quite shy of the media, wanting to give praise more than accept it – he always struck me as an assured reader of the game. There was a quiet confidence that was far from the swagger of many of his contemporaries. You got the feeling that whilst other bosses would kick the cat and harangue the family after a loss, McNamara would welcome reflection and a quiet period to piece together what went wrong and then plan more effectively for the next game. Whilst this is an observation from one who does not know him, it is fully backed by the autobiography which shows a man who faced death and rather than succumb to self-pity has reflected, counted his blessings and realised how fortunate he is.

He made such an impression at Thistle, that he was ironically transported to Dundee United. Ironic, because it was to the same club that Ian McCall had gone to and failed to ignite. What was to happen to McNamara was an exit under a cloud. That cloud was a suggestion that McNamara had financially benefitted from two transfers of United players which soured his reputation. McNamara, though not denying that there may have been some form of contractual advantage to him through transfer fees, makes it very clear that he did not benefit, if at all, to the value that had been claimed. That he then goes on to suggest that his well-publicised fall out with the youth team coach, Stevie Campbell, was due to the fact that Campbell who had previously benefitted from financial inducements when his youth team players graduated to the first team. Such an arrangement was threatened because McNamara was bringing players into the club rather than promoting them from within. It strongly suggests there was a culture in the club of financial benefit for successful staff. It is therefore not a leap to believe that McNamara may have also had such a clause in his contract. Having said all that, McNamara, given what he has been through has little reason to lie. There is no reason for him to apply to be back in the manager’s chair. So why try and repair his own reputation? Here he believes that Campbell had leaked the story out of spite. It is his one bitter note.

Team sheet from McNamara’s first game as manager of York City

The manager’s chair at York City was his next destination and whilst up in Scotland, we knew of the City and its football club, we struggled to fathom why a young Scottish manager of such great ability would end up at a League Two club. After a few training sessions and games, it would appear that McNamara was unsure too.

Taking his friend, Simon Donnelly with him to be part of the coaching set up, he discovered that Donnelly was probably the best player in the club! His work was cut out. His reason for going was wrapped up in his relationship with Chairman, Jason McGill. It endured a relegation down into the National League and led to McNamara taking the role as CEO of the club. It was here that things began to unravel as a new manager arrived without a new philosophy. It was an old school way of doing things which were more than a clash of personalities. By the time that McNamara left the club, Jason had sold it and the McNamara family had settled in Yorkshire.

In a strange left field kind of way, his next move was to write a comedy, The Therapy Room. Though it never got past the pilot stage, it used his experiences in creative fashion and it could be argued that his name carried the opportunity to it being made at all. He also tried his hand at a variety of post retirement ventures which have sustained him to an extent and are covered in summary more than detail.

Throughout the book chapters are introduced with the slow revelation of the events of his illness, from the day it began through the setbacks and the recovery to the final pages. By the end he is out the hospital and with family. The former owner of York City and his wife, having proven to be true friends, McNamara can look forward to the future being just where  he has settled. There is a contentment which travels across the page. He talks of how managers in football can be stuck in a bubble. For him, that bubble, truly has burst. Whether the experiences of the allegations at Dundee United or relegation at York City prepared him fully for life beyond the dugout, his collapse, coma and concerned family, have provided him with the future based upon a reality which is far more secure – his faith and his health.

McNamara credits his collaborator, Gerry McDade with a great deal of the fluidity and success of the book. Whether it be a footballer with a decent education or a writer with exceptional source material, this has the types of lessons and insight that make it a very easy read. It has proven that McNamara beyond the white line was just as compelling with a ball at his feet as with a pen in his hand – even one guided by McDade.

Donald C Stewart

 

(Publisher: Pitch Publishing Ltd. September 2021. Hardcover: 320 pages)

 

Buy your copy here:Jackie McNamara

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Book Review: Pat Nevin – The Accidental Footballer: a memoir.

Depending on your age and interests, Pat Nevin is either an ex-Scottish International footballer and Chelsea legend, a DJ much influenced by the indie music scene or a respected media journalist and writer. One man, many facets and with a story to tell. Much like the release of Arsene Wenger’s autobiography, My Life in Red and White, Pat Nevin’s book was also keenly anticipated by many in the sporting world and beyond. And like the ex-Arsenal manager’s offering, Pat Nevin’s The Accidental Footballer is a book that has a sophistication, insight, depth and humour that is not always associated with the genre of football writing.

Growing up, football biographies and autobiographies tended to be very much along the lines of the ‘boy done good’, containing a less than inspiring linear plod through the matches and seasons the subject played in, with machismo tales of drinking and night club excesses adding the ‘colour’. During Nevin’s career at Chelsea and Everton (from 1983 to 1992), which he focuses on in his book, this was indeed the culture that he found himself amongst. However, where his fellow squad members were happy to lounge by the hotel pool on club and international trips abroad, downing a few beers in the sun, Nevin wanted to get out and see the countries and the culture, wherever he found himself, whether that be in Europe or further afield in China and Iraq.

This wasn’t the only aspect that singled out the Glasgow born fleet-footed forward from his clubmates. Nevin never intended to be a footballer (as the book’s title infers) with no clamour for the glamour and fame that a successful playing career could bring. Indeed even though he was released by Celtic, the club he supported and watched from the terraces as a boy, Nevin was determined to follow the educational path taken by his siblings and would have turned down the club whatever their decision. That he found his way into the game through playing for Clyde, was determined by his desire to play the game he loved purely for enjoyment, whilst allowing him to continue his University studies and earn some money on the side to get to various music gigs in Glasgow. Indeed, you get the impression his love of the arts, and the chance to get to more involved in the indie music scene was as much as a draw as he moved to London and Stamford Bridge, than going full-time in England.

The move saw Nevin become part of a successful Chelsea side as his goals and assists for Kerry Dixon saw the Blues gain promotion from the old Second Division in 1983/84 with him picking up the Player of the Year Award that season and in 1986/87. When Chelsea were relegated in 1987/88, he stayed in the old First Division by moving to Everton, where his time was blighted by injury and the return of former Toffee Manager Howard Kendall, which after a loan spell saw Nevin stay on Merseyside by signing permanently for Tranmere Rovers. Internationally, he was talented enough to earn 28 caps for Scotland, playing in the European Championship Finals in 1992 and was Player of the Tournament as Scotland became European Under 18 Champions in Finland ten years earlier.

Whilst football is central to Nevin’s ‘memoir’ (his parents always encouraged their children to use the best English they could), his love of music is evident not only through his interesting tales of his relationship with John Peel and meetings with others in the business such as Morrissey, but that each of the book’s 32 chapters headings are in fact song titles, handily detailed at the end with the artists also listed.

Football and music aside, readers also get to learn of Nevin’s politics, influenced by the hard-working ethos of his family and the reality of growing up in working-class Glasgow, a city divided by the Catholic and Protestant religions. Indeed, as a Catholic, Nevin believed that despite his father’s years of dedication to his job on the railways, he was always overlooked for promotion in favour of his Protestant colleagues. It is evident that Nevin’s father was an incredible inspiration, not only working long hours for British Rail, but spending hours coaching his son and various youth teams, and even when Nevin moved South, getting to games in London.

And just as Nevin feels able to articulate his view of the discrimination against his father, he is open in expressing opinions on major issues such as racism, the child abuse scandal at the Celtic Boys Club and the continuing sectarian problems at both Celtic and Rangers. Indeed, it will be interesting to see whether that particular issue would be explored in any potentially further book to come from Nevin, which could also look at parts of his playing career not mentioned in this memoir, at Kilmarnock and Motherwell, where he also had a stint as Chief Executive.

It was a pleasure to be let into Nevin’s world through The Accidental Footballer, a book which so easily have been called, The Arty Footballer, The Artistic Footballer, The Articulate Footballer, The Alternative Footballer or indeed The Accomplished Footballer.

(Monoray. May 2021. Hardback: 352 pages)

 

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Book Review: Robbo: Now You’re Gonna Believe Us: Our Year, My Story

Andy Robertson has had something of a meteoric rise since joining Liverpool four years ago, culminating in becoming a Premier League winner in 2020. His first book – Robbo: Now You’re Gonna Believe Us – follows the year-long journey from becoming Champions League winners in 2019 to that historic title win that saw Liverpool crowned champions of England for the first time in thirty years.

The book opens in the dressing room of the Wanda Metropolitano stadium in Madrid following Liverpool’s triumph over Tottenham in the final of the 2018/2019 Champions League, but Robertson explains that the seeds of that victory were actually sown twelve months previously when Liverpool were defeated 3-1 by Real Madrid in Kiev. That loss galvanised the team going into the following year’s competition and made the victory all the sweeter. Robertson takes readers inside the changing room in the immediate aftermath and onto the celebrations in Madrid and the parade in Liverpool. Whilst there is not really much in the way of fly-on-the-wall party antics, with what goes on behind closed doors staying behind closed doors in terms of celebrations, Robertson captures some of the more poignant and reflective moments in the chaos, highlighting just what it means to win.

And so on to the 2019/2020 campaign that would redefine Liverpool’s history and that of the current crop of players, and Robertson charts it every step of the way. He gives some insight into preseason and the novel methods Jurgen Klopp used in their training camp in Evian, as well as the camaraderie and rivalry between teammates when it comes to competitive sportsmen. Then it is into the season proper, which covers the European Super Cup, the opening games, national duty, the Club World Cup, fixture congestion, the FA Cup and Champions League runs, the emergence of COIVD and suspension of football and, of course, the charge towards Premier League victory. Insights into Robertson’s own views on some of the issues the media play up, including the debate over Liverpool’s presence in the Club World Cup and the fielding of a younger side in the FA Cup, are particularly interesting, and so too are the glimpses of the manager and other players from an insider’s perspective, seeing in snippets the interactions, the respect and friendships that make up a dressing room. The human side of the players, and Robertson in particular, also really comes across, especially in the more difficult moments beyond football, and it’s a refreshing reminder of another side of their lives and characters that takes place away from the camera lens.

Ultimately, this is a book in that depicts the incredible effort and determination that goes into winning one of the toughest leagues in world football, and those at the heart of it – the players, the managers, the backroom staff and the fans. It is also an insight into Robertson’s personal experience of this journey, from worries over injuries and family illness to reflections on his teammates and ‘rivalry’ with Trent Alexander Arnold, and, above all, the desire to improve and the will to win. One flaw, I find, in a lot of football autobiographies is that focusing on a whole career condenses even the most significant of moments, so this season-long view is a really appealing one. Naturally, there’s still a need to condense matters, but the book seems to cover all of the key moments and maintain a good balance of on-field and off-field action. The fact the book also charts a historic title-winning season is a bonus and will certainly resonate particularly with Liverpool fans, but, in truth, I think the whole approach of a player’s logging of a season is one that could work, and would be appealing, across the board, with each team having its own highs and lows, struggles and achievements, regardless of whether they win the league, finish mid-table or get relegated. So it would be great to see other books in this vein. As for Robertson’s tome, it’s a book that captures the essence of what it meant to be a Liverpool player – or a fan – in a season that was so momentous in so many ways.

(Reach Sport. March 2021. Paperback: 304 pages)

 

Jade Craddock

 

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UEFA 2020 Euro Championship – Day 13

Group D: England (1) 1 – 0 (0) Czech Republic

Goal-scorer: Sterling (12′)

Wembley Stadium, London

Football is a results game and England’s first task was to qualify from the group and on that basis on paper that is what has happened. Top of the group, unbeaten in three games and no goals conceded. This was a decidedly better performance than that against Scotland and particularly in the first-half there was some genuinely positive play from Bukayo Saka, Jack Grealish and goal-scorer Raheem Sterling. Harry Kane drew another blank but was unlucky with his one genuine opportunity which Tomas Vaclik did well to save. The Czechs had their moments but huffed and puffed without much success and this result combined with the win for Croatia, saw the Czech Republic drop from top position to third but still make the last 16. England back at Wembley next week and await to see who visits the arch once the games conclude tonight. Whoever it is, it will be a proper test, unlike the phoney war of the group games.

 

Group D: Scotland (1) 1 – 3 (1) Croatia

Goal-scorers: Scotland – McGregor (42′) Croatia – Vlasic (17′), Modric (62′), Perisic (77′)

Hampden Park, Glasgow

This was a do or die game for both sides. The equation was a simple one, only a win would be good enough to have a chance of progress to the knockout phase. With my feet-up watching the England game, the biggest cheers of the night from the Wembley crowd  (other than for England’s winner) was when news from Hampden Park filtered through every time Croatia scored. Despite home advantage the Scots maintained their record of never having progressed from the group stages of major finals. Vlasic opened the scoring for Croatia with McGregor getting the leveller to offer some hope for Scotland to set up a vital second period. However, it was Croatia who got the job done. Modric’s goal on sixty-two minutes can only be described as world-class, with a genius finish and fifteen minutes later the final nail in Scotland’s coffin was delivered by a flicked header from Perisic following a corner. 3-1 to Croatia, a result which saw them leapfrog into second spot and a trip to Copenhagen in the last 16.

 

So we reach the last group games and then a couple of days of no action, until the last sixteen games get underway on Saturday (26 June). Group E comes to its conclusion with Slovakia v Spain at La Cartuja in Seville, whilst Sweden take on Poland at the Krestovsky Stadium in Saint Petersburg. Slovakia only need a point against Spain to ensure their place in the last 16, whilst Spain will reach the knockout phase with a win but could also progress if they draw and Poland do not beat Sweden. It has been a strange couple of games so far for Spain, but surely they will win today? Sweden who top the group will maintain that with win over Poland, but a draw and results in the other game could see the drop to second spot. For Poland its all or nothing, with only victory over the Swedes enough to see them through

England will have their eyes on the games in Group F with the runners-up here the Three Lions opponents next week. Germany host Hungary at the Allianz Arena in Munich, whilst over in Budapest World Champions France play European Champions Portugal. Nothing is cut and dried in this group, and this is what each team needs to do to ensure they are not heading for the exits:

  • France will finish first if they win, or if they draw and Germany do not beat Hungary. If France lose and Hungary win, second place will be decided on overall goal difference.
  • Germany will go through if they win, or if they draw and France do not lose. Germany will finish first if they win and France do not. Germany will finish third if they draw and France lose, or if both Germany and Portugal lose.
  • Portugal qualify if they win, or if they draw and Germany lose. Portugal will finish first if they win and Germany do not. Portugal will finish fourth if they lose and Germany also lose.
  • Hungary will go through in second place if they win, and Portugal lose. If they win and France lose, second place will be decided on overall goal difference. Hungary will finish third if they win and the other game is drawn.

After all this I think the two-day break will be a welcome one for all!

UEFA 2020 Euro Championship – Day 12

Group B: Russia (0) 1 – 4 (1) Denmark

Goal-scorers: Russia – Dzyuba (70’minutes pen). Denmark – Damsgaard (38′), Poulsen (59′), Christensen (79′), Maehle (82′)

Parken Stadium, Copenhagen

Well I didn’t see that result coming. My prediction for Russia to take a point and qualify was truly blown out of the water. Hans Christian Andersen couldn’t have written a better story.  The Danes with just a point going into this fixture and having to deal with the emotional trauma of the Finland game, lived up to their nickname of the Danish Dynamite by simply blowing the Russians away. Denmark knew if they won with a significant swing in goal-difference and Belgium beat Finland, they would be through. And that is exactly what came to pass. The Danes could have been ahead before Mikkel Damsgaard fired them in front seven minutes before the break with a stunning effort. Leading 1-0 at the interval, Denmark were simply irresistible in the second-half with ‘keeper Matvey Safonov making a number of saves to keep Russia in the hunt. However, his own defence handed the Danes a second when Zobnin’s horrendous back-pass gifted Poulsen a second Danish goal on fifty-nine minutes. Russia briefly threatened a comeback when they got a penalty (which looked decidedly soft) on seventy minutes, with Dzyuba smashing it down the middle past Schmeichel. The Danes though didn’t panic and simply put the game to bed with goals from Christensen and Maehle. Christensen’s was an absolute beauty on seventy-nine minutes, as his long-range effort whistled past Safonov. Three minutes later it was game over as Russia desperately looked for a goal to get back into the game, were caught on the break, with Maehle leading the charge before slotting home. Russia out – bottom of the group. The Danes through in second-place and earning a date with Wales in Amsterdam in the last sixteen.

 

Group B: Finland (0) 0 – 2 (0) Belgium

Goal-scorers: Hrádecky (74′ og), Lukaku (81’)

Krestovsky Stadium, Saint Petersburg

As expected Belgium saw off Finland to maintain their 100% record in the group, with a third win. Finland kept the Belgians at bay with ‘keeper Lukas Hradecky making a number of decent saves. However, his luck changed on seventy-four minutes. Thomas Vermaelen inside the Finns box headed powerfully goal-ward with his downward header hitting the crossbar and as Hradecky tried to react, he palmed the ball over the line. Another OG to add to the litany so far in this competition. All that remained was for Lukaku to get Belgium’s second with a smart turn in the box, firing in with Hradecky rooted to the spot. Finland left in third place after Denmark’s win and waiting to see if three points is enough to take them into the knockout phase. Belgium cruising and awaiting their opponents for a game in Seville.

 

Group C: North Macedonia (0) 0 – 3 (1) Netherlands

Goal-scorers: Depay (24′), Wijnaldum (51′, 58′)

Johan Cruyff Arena, Amsterdam

The score-line says 3-0 to the Dutch, but things could have been so much different if decisions had gone North Macedonia’s way. Within the opening ten minutes Ivan Trichkovski finished neatly, but was given offside by a very marginal VAR decision and later in the half with the scores at 0-0, Trajkovski smashed one against the post, which on another day would have deflected in. Then to rub salt in the wound, the Dutch broke on twenty-four minutes, from their own penalty area, with them fortunate to play-on after it appeared they gained possession from a foul on a Macedonian player. In a flash the ball was down the other end and the swift counter attack ended with Depay tapping home. A goal to the good at the break, the Netherlands dominated the second-half, with Wijnaldum killing off the game before the hour mark with two goals. The first six minutes into the second period a tap in after a cutback from Memphis Depay and then on fifty-eight minutes, Depay’s shot was saved by Dimitrievski, with the rebound falling nicely for Wijnaldum to slot home. The Oranje through with three wins from three and a last sixteen tie in Budapest, whilst North Macedonia finished bottom without a point, but certainly not disgraced in their first European Championship Finals. A by-line from the game was for Macedonian captain Goran Pandev, who was making his 122nd and final appearance for his country. He left the field on sixty-nine minutes as North Macedonia’s record appearance holder, and record goalscorer, with 38 goals, his parting shot being a goal against Austria in a previous group game at the tournament. Not a bad way to end a fantastic career.

 

Group C: Ukraine (0) 0 – 1 (1) Austria

Goal-scorer: Baumgartner (21′)

Arena Na?ionala, Bucharest

Me and my poor predictions. Pre-match I thought this was in the bag for the Ukrainian’s. It turned out to be a game of two-halves. Austria were the better side in the opening forty-five minutes with Baumgartner stabbing home from a corner on twenty-one minutes, with other decent chances in the half for Laimer and the returning Arnautovic. With Ukraine knowing they needed at a point as a minimum to progress, they were better in the second period. The OG tally for the competition was nearly added to as Lainer deflected a free-kick towards his own-goal only for ‘keeper Bachmann to save his blushes with a good save. He was again called into action to stop and effort from Shaparenko, whilst Yaremchuk saw his effort from an acute angle flash just wide of the Austrian goal. The Austrians through in second spot and a decidedly tricky encounter at Wembley Stadium to come against the Italians. For Ukraine its third place and a case of wait and see.

 

Later today Group D concludes with England taking on the Czech Republic at Wembley, whilst Scotland host Croatia at Hampden Park. With the results from yesterday and the way qualification works, England and the Czechs were guaranteed progression to the last sixteen without kicking a ball. The concern now is who lies in wait depending on the outcome of tonight and the remaining group games. So the result still matters tonight, and it will be interesting to see how both sides play it. For Scotland and Croatia the permutations are as follows:

  • A win for Scotland over Croatia would guarantee one of those third-place spots for them and second is possible if England lose to the Czechs at Wembley and Scotland make up a current goal difference of three.
  • If win Scotland win and England win, the Scots cannot overtake the Czechs since head-to-head is used before goal difference.
  • A Croatia win would guarantee one of those third-place spots for them and second is possible if England lose to the Czechs at Wembley and Croatia make up a current goal difference of three.

Scotland have never progressed beyond the group stage at a major finals which includes, eight World Cups and two European Championships. I’m not even going to try and predict the outcome of this one. All I’ll say is that Scotland haven’t scored a goal yet…

Euro ramblings – Second Round Review by Jade Craddock

Another 12 games played and a host of talking points from Coca-Cola-gate (other fizzy drinks – and water – are available) to the first 0-0 draw between England and Scotland in England. So here’s a look at some of the highlights (and lowlights) of the second round.

Goal of the round: Nothing quite to match Patrik Schik’s first-round effort this time out, though there were a couple of well-worked goals, including both of Wales’ goals against Turkey, Ronaldo’s tap-in after a perfect counter-attack against Germany and Kevin de Bruyne’s beautiful set-up for Thorgan Hazard. De Bruyne went one better with his winning strike against the Danes, but arguably Ivan Perisic’s strike against Croatia was the pick of the bunch. And on the subject of goals, both Patrick Schick and Cristiano Ronaldo picked up another goal apiece, to take their tallies to three each, but there’s a clear frontrunner for the Golden Boot at the moment – own goals. There had only been nine own goals in Euros history prior to this tournament, with the most at one tournament being the three scored in 2016. However, five own goals – over half of the total previously scored – have already been registered in the first two rounds of this year’s edition – including the opening goal of the tournament – with Portugal’s Ruben Dias and Raphael Guerreiro having the dubious honour of scoring two own goals in a single match for the first time in the tournament’s history. On a more positive note, Ronaldo’s third goal of the campaign saw him increase his Euros goals tally to 12 and edge just two away from Ali Daei’s international record, whilst this was also his 19th goal at World Cup and Euro Championships, equalling Miroslav Klose’s record. With a tricky match against France to close their group-stage account and keep their Euros ambitions alive, could Wednesday’s encounter be Ronaldo’s swansong at this tournament?

Standout team performance: There were a few standout performances across the round, not least from two of the three home nations, with Wales tapping back into the spirit of 2016 to see them earn a deserved victory against Turkey and all-but ensure qualification to the knockout round, whilst Scotland stepped up against the Auld Enemy to thwart England’s progress. After a dire start in Munich against France, Germany reminded everyone as to why they’re the most successful team in Euros history, with an impressive victory over Portugal, while both Belgium and Netherlands maintained their 100% start and eased into the Round of 16. However, my shout for team performance goes to Italy, who eased to another 3-0 win, becoming only the second team in the tournament’s history to begin the campaign with consecutive wins with margins of more than 3 goals. Despite not being on many people’s radars pre-tournament, Italy have in fact been on a very decent run, which has now seen them register 10 consecutive wins, and all of them without conceding a goal. They are 29 matches unbeaten, just one short of their record 30 matches between November 1935 and July 1939, and have scored some 80 goals. Defensive solidity is still at their core but they’ve added the deadly combination of goals – a team to watch surely.

Standout player performance: If ever a substitute changed a team’s fortunes, it was surely Kevin de Bruyne, who was introduced in the second-half when the Red Devils were 1-0 against Denmark and promptly cancelled out the deficit by calmly setting up Hazard. And just quarter of an hour later, he turned the game on its head with a beautifully struck shot to ease Belgium into the lead and through to the Round of 16. He exemplified the term ‘game-changer’. However, for me, Leonardo Spinazzola has been a revelation. A right-footed wing-back, he’s played the role to perfection on the front foot, always offering an outlet down the wing and often the furthest forward in the attack. Admittedly, he hasn’t been tested particularly defensively, but, as they say, attack is the best form of defence, and they don’t come more attacking in the wing-back role than Leonardo Spinazzola. Now 28, Spinazzola may just be at his peak, although if Chiellini and Bonucci are anything to go by, he should have another good 6–8 years yet.

Newcomers: I can’t mention newcomers without mentioning Billy Gilmour. Named ‘Star of the Match’ (a moniker I’m not even going to go into right now) against England, Gilmour once again proved his quality and maturity as he has done every time he’s stepped onto the pitch in the last twelve months. Despite being only 20, his schooling with the likes of Kante and Jorginho clearly shows, and his battle against team-mate Mason Mount was one of the highlights of the England-Scotland match. For me, though, Denzel Dumfries of the Netherlands, who has been named ‘Star of the Match’ (I know, I know) in both of the Oranje’s matches, has been mightily impressive, starring at right-back but scoring in both of the opening fixtures – and in scoring in his first two Euros games, he matched the feat that has only ever been achieved by one other player – Ruud van Nistelrooy – and again, I reiterate, he’s a right-back. Aged just 22, he’s already making waves, and I’m sure the Premier League scouts are out in force to prise him away from PSV. And when it comes to youngsters, Jude Bellingham’s reign as the youngest ever player at the Euros was over almost as soon as it began with Poland’s Kacper Kozlowski taking the record when he was introduced as a sub against Spain, aged 17 years and 246 days. Anyone feeling old yet?

Surprise packages: Hungary versus France was seen as a shoo-in for the reigning World Cup winners who had eased past Germany, just four days before. However, the 60,000 fans in Budapest and the Magyars didn’t get the memo, shocking Les Bleus by going ahead at the end of the first half. Hungary couldn’t hold on to the lead as Antoine Griezmann equalised on 66 minutes, but a team boasting the likes of Mbappe, Benzema and Pogba couldn’t find a way past a determined Hungary side. A side it must be said whose 3-0 defeat by Portugal hugely flattered their opponents, after Hungary had held out for 84 minutes. A draw against the tournament favourites was little more than the side deserved, and it keeps the so-called Group of Death wide open. Whilst Hungary have proved a welcome surprise, Spain have been the opposite, managing just two underwhelming draws and scoring one goal. It is a team that remains blessed with talent but one that has become predictable and somewhat stale. With a prodigy like Adama Traore on the bench, someone who can genuinely effect games and terrorise defences, it seems unfathomable that he hasn’t featured at all in this tournament, even if not as a starter, he is the ideal option from the bench. Currently sitting third in their group and with a final match against Slovakia to play, Spain still have it all to do to qualify, and they’re going to need more than they’ve shown so far to do it.

Micah Richards

Moment: You might argue it comes to something when your moment of the round is the half-time entertainment, but then when that half-time entertainment is Micah Richards leading the karaoke it’s understandable. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Micah Richards is TV Gold. And when there’s a stale 0-0 to try to cover in the fifteen-minute break, why not opt for a little sing-song instead? Ashley Williams and Alex Scott were the perfect sidekicks for Richards and if nothing else comes out of this Euros for the home nations, we may just have found our next Eurovision trio right there. Analysing matches is all well and good, but let’s be honest, we’re all there for the pundit shenanigans. Next up, Roy Keane, Gary Neville and Graeme Souness have a half-time rap battle. Okay, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

England: The concerns going into the tournament for England were all about defence and how on earth the Three Lions would cope without Harry Maguire. Blessed with perhaps the greatest array of attacking talent in a generation, the only questions about England’s front line was how to fit them all in. However, two games down and that has totally switched. The defence, marshalled it has to be said by Harry Maguire’s replacement Tyrone Mings, has kept two clean sheets and been largely untroubled, whilst a four-pronged attack has registered just one goal and didn’t record a single shot on target in the first half against Scotland. It felt as if this match brought England crashing back down to earth, against a Scotland side who were resolute and determined but who rank some forty places below their Auld Enemy. In many ways, it was a sort of throwback, an old-fashioned tussle of yore, with a few more multicoloured boots than in the past. It wasn’t particularly pretty, the good old Blighty weather didn’t let the side down, and the first twenty-five minutes was more about the foul count than the pass count, with some proper duels between Mings and Stones and Adams and Dykes, and Mason Mount and Billy Gilmour who seemed to forget they’re Chelsea teammates. Mount and Rice were arguably the best of a disappointing bunch, with another solid display by Mings and Jordan Pickford putting on a good performance. With one match to go, England’s fate will be decided against the Czech Republic and whilst it’s not all doom and gloom, there is definitely need for improvement, and maybe it’s time for a change to personnel and shape.