Scots come out for Denmark, England, and football itself
Walking around Edinburgh blasting “Three Lions” on your headphones, as I did, is a bit like going commando for reasons other than absolute necessity: enjoyable if you’re into that kind of thing, but somehow furtive and perverse when you think about it. And for all that people might not care, you aren’t about to tell them what you’re up to.
England’s rise to the Euros semi-final naturally didn’t raise the loudest of cheers in the Scottish capital, where people love to complain about how many English people have made the city their office and their home – a complaint you often hear delivered in what sounds suspiciously like an English accent.
And yet, the old myth that all Scots nurture a vicious resentment of English sporting success hardly ever holds up.Headed into the critical England-Denmark game, the signs were that Scotland – always restive and resentful, going by much of the London-based commentary on it – wasn’t much invested in England’s fate, or baying for its old rival’s blood.
In a YouGov poll asking who Scots wanted to win the semi-final, a mere 21 per cent backed England – but only 38 per cent got behind the Danes, putting them just even with “don’t know”.
Whether “don’t know” is the same as “don’t care” is a different question. “Well, as someone who doesn’t follow football, I don’t really care,” explained the nonplussed Chris when I asked him. “But I also own a T-shirt which says ‘I support Scotland, and every team that plays England’, so make of that what you will…”
Less circumspect was Simon, who WhatsApped me before the game. “I think we need to be a bit more mature and move away from this petty anyone-but-England stance. Haha! F**k that [41 Danish flag emojis].”
The English (unsurprisingly) want England to win tonight against Denmark. The Scottish don't. The Welsh don't really care.
— YouGov (@YouGov) July 7, 2021
🏴 want...
England win: 21%
Denmark win: 38%
Don't care: 38%
🏴 want...
England win: 34%
Denmark win: 13%
Don't care: 50%https://t.co/Cw5rIOZ5vB pic.twitter.com/DeiLxcp81L
But far more representative of those I talked to was my neighbour Patrick, who gave me a more considered angle on the whole thing.
“I’m on football’s side,” he said, almost soothingly. “I just want an exciting game with good football. England’s games have been among the more dull, and I think it would be kind of a pain in the arse if they were to win. Denmark obviously have the compelling story since their first game, so I’d be happy with either Denmark or Italy winning.”
Still, asked about his favourite outcome for the tournament, he was pleasingly waspish: England would make the final, then either lose in penalties or get “absolutely spanked” in normal time. No, sir, you may not boogie.
Come the evening, the heavens opened just as people began trickling into pubs, pouring yet more cold water on what’s already a much-subdued season. Instead of the clammy intensity of muscling shoulder-first into a febrile crowd and jumping to get a glance at the screen, there’s the passive-aggressive pleading for a table at the door of a near-empty bar that’s long been booked to the rafters.
But when the pub on the Grassmarket I’ve holed up in abruptly flicks the sound on for the Euros, a cheer goes up. And soon enough, it’s clear that plenty in the room are gunning for an English goal – not just happy if they get one, but rising from their slouches whenever things look up. Less exuberant are three English-accented couples on high stools serenely washing down their chips with Veuve Clicquot, but even they let rip when England pull even.
Next to me, something else is at work. A young couple in more temperate spirits are glued to the screen, and keep their cool for both goals. She’s from Nashville, he’s from Edinburgh. And whereas she says the game’s everything you want in a semi-final – two teams who’ve truly earned their place both playing their best – he’s still torn.
I ask exactly where the tear is, and he explains that it’s the commentators who’ll decide whether the English team get his backing. “That’s where it always kicks in, as a Scot,” he says, “that crowing you get in English sport. I’ve no problem with the team themselves, but the half-time talk will decide it for me.”
Even as the suspense builds inexorably in the second half and into extra time, there’s no feeling that the mood could sour, or boil over. Even the laddiest English lads shouting “wanker” after rough Danish tackles lift their pints gently from the server’s tray with a politeness that’s almost heartwarming.
And as the staff tell me, the experience of working a sport shift in a pub like this is a complete turnaround from the pre-Covid norm, and especially where football’s concerned.
“I’ve worked the Six Nations for years,” says one of the team, a young man who works across a bunch of venues around the city, “and I’ve had people do disgusting things – pissing on the bar, you know – but I’ve never once had a fight. Football’s different. Working a Rangers-Celtic game, I had a chair thrown at me. For a Manchester derby, I had fights between two groups of Scottish fans both supporting English teams!
“But this year, the football nights have been the quieter nights. The Scotland games were loud, with people standing on their chairs at the end, and the temperature’s always that bit higher for England games. But I’ve not had any fights. The people who’ve come for the games every night are in a good mood. They come, sit down, have fun, drink a bit, and go home happy.”
And that’s how the room felt: on tenterhooks, jumping out of their chairs and bursting into “football’s coming home” when Harry Kane scored the second English goal, but nowhere near the point of kicking off in either direction. Wherever the imagined anti-English fervour was boiling over, it wasn’t here.
With the joyous bellowing and singing after the final whistle the guy with the card machine reassures me that no, most of the crowd really are Scottish. Outside on the street, The English were out in force, but not at their worst. One Scottish guy walks past muttering “I’m f***kin’ ragin’” – but with a smile on his face.
As the quiet guy on high alert for English arrogance told me, “I’m British, not just Scottish. They deserved this.” And that was that.
