It was an historic moment . . . in more ways than one.

As a Scot now living in York, it was the first time outside my homeland I'd watched my national soccer side play in the World Cup.

For their debut against Brazil, I'd gone home to Edinburgh to watch and as it turned out drown sorrows in a few drams with my friends and family at the 2-1 defeat brought about by a Scotland own goal.

But last night I was my own. Back in York, sitting in a York pub surrounded by St George's flags and English fans, I just wished I'd brought my tartan tammy with me, or a least a lucky sprig of heather.

After a goal-less first half, an English punter began his half-time analysis, which basically amounted to slagging off the Scots. I bit my lip, and hoped by swapping their traditional dark blue jumpers for the yellow of the boys from Brazil, the Scots would inherit some World Champion luck.

But a crucifying goal by Norway in the opening minute of the second half seemed to promise the opposite.

If Scotland didn't score - they were out.

"Looks like you're going home," chirped a punter in the pub. Cheers, mate. I thought. And I began to reflect on the unfairness of it all. Why did the English have so many good strikers. Why couldn't Shearer have been born north of Hadrian's Wall.

And what chance did we have anyway, when our World Cup anthem is "Don't Come Home Too Soon"?

Then the second historic moment happened . . . a Scottish goal. A few more of them and real history could be made as Scotland go through to the next round for the first time. All together now: "Don't Come Home Too Soon" . . .

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.