SOON, in less than two weeks to be exact, Big Ben will toll for the televised start of the year 2016. This is a year which promises to be heavy going for that embattled species, the Scottish fitba fan, because, it will be 50 years on from 1966.
We, particularly those who were alive at the time, will not need reminding, but, mark my words, reminded we will be, often, in 1966 They, The Enemy, England, won the Jules Rimet Trophy and were crowned World Football Champions.
However, this was, as was emphatically demonstrated at their own Wembley nine months later, a false coronation. Once a Scotland team inspired by Jim Baxter got their hands on the English back in April, 1967, it was soon clear which nation was indeed the Football Master Race.
Well, that's our basic credo and we must, in spite of massive evidence to the contrary believe it.
In the summer of 2016, 50-years on from "They think it's all over - it is now" and all that, it will be deja vu again. England, backed by their largely unloved Barmy Army of travelling fans will embark for France for Euro'2016, and already, on the back of what was, in spite of the paucity of opposition they faced, an impressive qualifying camaign, their media cheer leaders are warming-up into full: "Engurland, Engurland, Engurland" mode.
Thus, between now and the kick-off this summer, the pressure from the fawning English media will gradually be ratcheted-up on Roy Hodgson and his squad. Fifty years on, England still expects and all that.
But, it is ever thus, the English press will build-up their team, the representatives of what, despite lots of evidence to the contrary in Champions League games, the BUMS (British Unionist Media) still refers to as: "The Greatest League In The World", as potential Champions.
Then, when England go out, somewhere around the last eight, all Hell will descend on the heads of Hodgson, a decent man and good manager, and his captain, the fading force that is Wayne Rooney, and the rest.
That 1966 World Cup in England hasn't worn well. Yes, it was a violent tournament, the manner in which Pele and the Brazilians were kicked out of it, the festering sore which was the England v Argentine quarter-final, these are among the lasting images of the event.
But, think too of the wonderful story of how North Korea won the hearts of the football fans of Tees-side in particular. They took to referring to Pak Doo Ick and Co as "Us".
Remember Eusebio's virtual one-man demolition of the same North Koreans in Portugal's come from behind quarter-final win. Close your eyes and you can still see Bobby Charlton, running on, and running on, before burying one of his specials in the Portugese net in the semi-final.
Consider again the elegance of the young, 21-year-old Franz Beckenbauer in the German midfield, unhurriedly gliding forward to score. Remember too, almost the last flourish of the flawed Hungarians, the succcessors to the wondrous team of Puskas, Bozcik, Czibor and Hideghuti.
England will probably not win in France next summer, for a start, whereas the squad Alf Ramsey had half a century ago contained several players who were the best in the world in their position - Gordon Banks, Ray Wilson, Bobby Moore, Bobby Charlton and, although he failed to make the final XI, Jimmy Greaves. Roy Hodgson doesn't have that level of ability at the core of his squad.
But, never mind, we Scots need not trouble ourselves with such passing fads as the European Championships, we will be engrossed in the annual pantomime of the Old Firm rumour mill - who will be the next big signing, not forgtting that continuing sporting soap opera - Edmiston Drive, or Court of Session Live, as it now threatens to become.
Who needs football, when fitba offers so much more.
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