I HAD intended, this morning, to ignore Rangers; but, needs must: Will the last person to leave Ibrox and Murray Park please put out the lights and make certain the padlocks are properly secured.
NOW, to England. Like most Scots when a major football competition finals come around, I have a spectating position - on the outside, looking in - and a default supporter's position of ABE, Anyone But England. This was the position when Euro 2012 kicked off.
However, notwithstanding the inane jingoism which I knew we would have to endure from the English-based TV stations, and in particular the excrutiating agony of watching and listening to Messrs Lineker and Tyldesley, I was prepared to give England a chance. I sensed, this time, there was a new realism abroad. The English Barmy Army might not have totally copied the Tartan Army's stance of: We're shite, we know we are, but we're going for the party any way - but there were elements of: we're not as good as we think we are, it will all end in tears, but, we're going for the party any way.
And thus it transpired. Yes, the wilder elements in their media did get a wee bit carried away before the quarter-final; not that they suddenly thought England were any good, more they realised Italy wasn't as good as the usual Italy and might get caught on a bad night. There was a realism - if we do get lucky against Italy, we'll still get gubbed by the Germans.
As it happened, England did get lucky against Italy. On another night it could have been 5-0, or 6-0. They had one real chance - that Johnson scooped shot which Luigi Buffon parried and caught before it hit the ground - just the kind of save he's been making for years. I know, from long experience: when a team has the dominance in possession and chances which Italy had, and doesn't make it count, they sometimes get hit with a sucker punch. But, in this case, England had no punch. That save, mentioned above, was the only one Buffon was called upon to make - until Ashley Cole's woefully mis-hit penalty.
So, England are out - and my first thought takes me back to the legendary quote from the senior SFA figure following out 0-7 hammering from Uruguay in the 1954 World Cup finals: "Ach, once we get back to playing England, the fans will forget all about this one".
The 21st century English version is: "OK old boy, once we get back to the Premiership, the great unwashed will forget all about this".
England sees itself as the best club in the world: what's that quote, Cecil Rhodes wasn't it: "To be born English is to hold a winning ticket in the lottery of life". To bring it closer to home and paraphrase: "English - We Are The People".
Well, Rhodes is deid, Rhodesia is now Zimbabwe - a basket case amongst basket cases - and as for We Are The People: see the line above.
England, against Italy, were totally out-played, tactically and technically, the only place they were better than the Italians was in the conversion rate from chances - England took 0 chances from the 1 they created, Italy took 0 chances from the 16 or so they created. But, the English press will still try to tell you the Premiership and therefore English football, is the best league in the world. Ayr right.
At least, they qualified - we didn't.
The UK gave football to the world. The English wrote down and organised the laws, Charles Allcock invented international football; the Scots invented the passing game, we were behind the first leagues, we were the first professionals, the first coaches. Then our two nations sat back and let the world over-take us.
England will learn nothing from their defeat in Kiev; they will soldier-on as they always have. We in Scotland have a chance to do something. The closest thing we have to an English club, in playing method and mentality has gone; right now, the SFA and the leagues are doing Corporal Jones impressions - running around in panic, shouting: "Don't panic". We can hopefully emerge with a newer, more-streamlined set-up for our professional game. We just might re-discover our faith in our own players. We could decide to put in place a proper grass-roots development scheme. We might, after so-many years of getting it wrong, get it right.
I live in hope, but, I am not holding my breath.
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