Scotland capitalise on French frustration

SUCCESS is a worry. Think of musical instrument retailers' stock of big drums being suddenly depleted as the urge to beat one proves irresistible to a large percentage of Scotland's population.

The problem with Scottishness, especially in football, is an inclination towards self-aggrandisement that is disproportionate to a country of fewer than five million people. It is a characteristic, too, that is stubbornly resistant to all attempts at rationalisation.

It is also one which is easily justified, rooted in the colossal achievements of so many in the arts and sciences. Inside the capacious main building of Hampden Park itself, memorials to the work of some of these luminaries are everywhere, with suites named after men such as James Clerk Maxwell, Alexander Graham Bell and John Logie Baird.

In international football, the wha's-like-us mentally has had to survive more than half-a-century of the ravages of disappointment, ever since the SFA finally deigned, in 1954, to enter the World Cup. It is unlikely to weaken as a result of what occurred on the national team's latest outing.

Now that France has fallen, the Tartan Army will march on Ukraine on Wednesday in the expectation that Kiev will be taken without the spillage of a single drop of blood. And no amount of cautionary counselling from Walter Smith will interfere with that conviction.

Smith is a worthy inheritor of the kind of premeditated solemnity practised and perfected by Jock Stein and Alex Ferguson. In the immediate aftermath of a victory over the French that should have been the cue to reach for the cap and bells, the national team manager was a study in serenity. It was a masterclass in the self-control of the supreme actor. With mass ecstasy breaking out all around him - even the normally stoical media corps spontaneously applauded when he walked into the post-match de-briefing - Smith allowed himself only the occasional smile as he reflected on a monumental accomplishment, his attention already turning to the next assignment in eastern Europe.

Much of Smith's diffidence would come naturally, springing from an innate realism that precludes premature celebration. He would be ever mindful that, despite an extraordinary full compliment of points from their three matches against the Faroe Islands, Lithuania and France, the Scots are less than a third of the way through a ten-game campaign in Group B of the Euro 2008 qualifying.

Unbridled glee is a luxury to be enjoyed by those of us who would have considered Scotland's place at the head of the section at this stage, with France, Italy and Ukraine in their wake, to have been inconceivable.

In his private retrospective of the victory over Raymond Domenech's celebrity-laden team, Smith would also be aware that the French themselves were significant contributors to the triumph of the dark blue shirts.

Without France's questionable spirit, their tendency to be too easily discouraged when the verve that made them untouchably superior in the first half at Hampden is not rewarded with goals, the Scots might well have been overrun.

If Smith's players gave a moving testimony to the Scots' love affair with their own image as fighting men, their opponents were, ultimately, exposed as psychologically suspect, almost craven in their capitulation. On reflection, it now seems significant that, in their 3-0 victory in Georgia and their 3-1 defeat of Italy in Paris in their two opening matches, Patrick Vieira and his crew were, on each occasion, two goals ahead inside the first 20 minutes.

Denied any kind of advantage - far less a decisive one - over Scotland by a combination of misfortune and unflagging resistance by Gary Caldwell, David Weir, Steven Pressley and Graham Alexander in the home defence, the French became shockingly depressed.

When Thierry Henry hit a post with a beautifully-struck free kick as early as the eighth minute and Vieira and David Trezeguet both had "goals" (quite correctly) disallowed for offside, it seemed that the Scots' pre-match disadvantages - Weir's and James McFadden's lack of first-team football, Barry Ferguson's indifferent form after a lengthy absence, Lee McCulloch ditto, Alexander a makeshift left-back, the loss of Kenny Miller to suspension - would be insurmountable.

But, as France wilted, the home players flowered. Ferguson and Paul Hartley, both of whom had been peripheral to the point of invisibility, became much more involved, joining Darren Fletcher and Christian Dailly - the latter wide on the right of the middle five - in removing much of the strain from the defence.

Gary Teale, who had replaced McCulloch in the 59th minute, was a glorious substitute, giving an extraordinary, relentlessly energetic performance in keeping Willy Sagnol and Franck Ribery subdued on the french right. Ribery became so marginalised that he was replaced by Sylvain Wiltord 15 minutes after Teale's arrival.

By the time the excellent Caldwell delivered the knockout blow, it was almost no surprise. The Scots had not reversed the flow of the match to the extent of consistently threatening Gregory Coupet in the visitors' goal, but they had imposed themselves significantly more tellingly from middle to front and the impression that they could inflict damage from a set piece had begun to form.

When that suspicion was thrillingly realised, it was from a corner kick on the right by Hartley. The Hearts midfielder had caused alarm with one just seconds before, the ball scrambled away to allow him this second attempt. This time, the ball dropped on the six-yard line and Caldwell, showing the greater urgency and alertness, slid in front of Eric Abidal to right-foot it low past Coupet.

Despite the manager's own disinclination towards public feeding of supporters' optimism, there seems to be no end to the improbable achievements of the Scotland squad under his guidance. We proceed to Kiev today with renewed vigour, but perhaps slightly tempered by four decades of exposure to the dangers of presumptuousness.

Taken from the Scotsman