Wembley Week - Here We Go, Here We Go, Here We Go

Wembley Week – 1

THE massed battalions of the Tartan Army who will head for Wembley later this week will be fewer in numbers than in the heady days of the Home International Championship, when the Wembley Weekend was a bi-annual ritual, with “Wembley Clubs” in town and villages across Scotland saving up over the two years between matches in London, to best enjoy the chance to visit “the big smoke”.

By the time I was old enough to join-in, we went by car, I never “enjoyed” as my father did, the overnight rail journey south, often in the oldest, most-dilapidated carriages the Scottish Region of British Railways could muster.

“A lot of them walked to Wembley”, the old boy would tell me – as the foot soldiers had tramped up and down the train as it rumbled south. Of course, the Tartan Army back then went well stoked-up with their cairry-oots, the journey passing in a fog of beer and whisky.

Then, as they were decanted into the morning embrace of a less-than-welcoming metropolis, there was the necessity of getting two things – a hearty breakfast and more drink. My faither and his pals discovered early-on, the pubs around Covent Garden, which was then the fruit and vegetable market, rather than the tourist trap it is today, opened early doors, to cater to the market traders who had been up since before dawn, and, it was possible to get both a filling breakfast, and, more-importantly, more drink, to pass the morning, before the trip out to Wembley.

There was the ritual of convening in Trafalgar Square, and Picadilly Circus, where the sttue of Eros was boarded-up, to prevent tartan-bedecked “mountaineers” scaling the statue. Then, it was onto the trains, both overground and underground, for the journey out to the stadium in north London – the walk up Wembley Way and the fun of watching those Scots who didn't have tickets finding ingenious ways to get into the ground for nothing.

After the game, win, lose or draw, it was back into the West End, to sample the joys of Soho, prior to the long withdrawal on Sunday.

The great Hughie McIllvaney has a great story of departing Wembley after one game – it was, I think, the 9-3 massacre of 1961, to see an obviously “blootered” Scottish fan hanging over a stairwell, when two obviously upper class England fans, from the posh seats passed.

“Geoffrey, that chap's obviously in some trouble, see if you can help him”, ordered the dowager lady. Geoffrey duly went over and asked the Scot if he could help him. “Can we drop you somewhere old chap” he asked.

“Aye – Buccleugh Street”, was the response.

The Old Man, who never missed a Wembley between the Wembley Wizards in 1928, and the horror of 1961 always said that last game was the best. He had arranged a freebie through his work, which meant he was in London, all-expenses-paid from Wednesday to the Sunday; he had been flown down and back-up at no cost to him, while his hotel was paid.

“But the best thing was the game – we had two 40-ouncers of Black Label. We had a guid hauf before the game to get us going, a hauf every time Scotland scored to celebrate, and a hauf every time England scored to cheer us up.” There were 12 goals in that game, neither 40-ouncer lasted until full-time”.

After that trip, my mother put her foot down – his Wembley days were over.

One of my cousins, a professional himself, who got into one Scotland squad but was never capped, told me of being with some of the Scotland team as they celebrated the 1967 win. They ended up in some low dive in Soho, with a by then “glorious” Jim Baxter leading the revels. Slim Jim decided he should favour the company with a song; wee Billy Bremner was going to do backing vocals.

Unfortunately, one of the bouncers decided this wasn't on and intervened. My cousin swears blind, Baxter told the bouncer: “Ken pal, If Ah snap ma fingers – thae punters there will wreck this joing, so, are youse gonna let me sing, ken”?

Needless to say, the bouncer looked at the audience and decided Baxter could sing.

I wonder will it be great celebrations, or the long, sad retreat, come Saturday morning?

THERE should be no doubts of how hard it will be to beat England on Friday night. Scotland's overall record at Wembley reads:

Played 30 – won 9 – drawn 5 – lost 16 – goals for 42 – goals against 69.

We have only twice, in 1928 and in 1949, beaten England by two or more goals – the other seven wins were by a single goal, even if, in 1967, the margin of victory was one goal going on six. England have beaten us by two or more goals on 11 occasions. They have kept seven clean sheets in the fixture; only three Scottish goalkeepers, Dave Cumming in 1938, Alan Rough in 1981 and Neil Sullivan in 1999 have kept a clean sheet at Wembley.

Only four Scots, Alex James in 1928, Jimmy Fleming in 1930, Lawrie Reilly in 1953 and Jim Baxter in 1963 have scored two goals in a single Wembley game, while Alex Jackson in 1928 is the only Scot to have scored a Wembley hat-trick in the fixture