Scotland’s will be the first of the 24 squads to pack up their suitcases and leave Germany, and it is fair to say that, for the neutrals, they won’t be missed.
As far as the statisticians are concerned, they may barely have noticed they were ever there.
Hardly a shot, seldom a corner, goals provided only by gigantic deflections off opponents. A flicker of excitement at the end of three sterile performances, supplied only by the complete deconstruction of a team whose substitutions, though expansive in intent, functionally removed its skeleton.
Steve Clarke may argue he could have done no more with the materials he had to hand, and perhaps he is right. We will never know, for he never tried. And that is the sin of it.
In a group which presented a passable opportunity to make history, Scotland never really gave it a chance. Totally overawed against Germany, timid in a convenient draw with Switzerland, and completely unable to capitalise on a barely believable approach by an insipid Hungary.
It is impossible to know which to credit the least: the extraordinary respect given to Clarke’s undeserving side by their final opponents, or that they did not exploit it for a shot on target until stoppage time, nor even a corner until the 78th minute. It was ironic that, having finally extracted another flag-kick from the supine Magyars, it turned into the goal which put a merciful end to Scotland’s futile presence.
Hungary, surely, cannot have watched Scotland’s first two games if they felt they warranted this much space. They will not be alone in relief that they will need to watch no more. Scotland’s fans will, as always, be missed as the tournament gathers momentum over the coming weeks; alas, their delegation will not. No Scotland, party on.
