A bit of football and filosofy from guest blogger, benk, who gives an account of the recent Scotland v Spain game in his own "Broonsian" vernacular.
ye ken whits braw? hindsight. it means that ye can look back in yer minds bead and say whit shoulda been efter it wiznae. it wiz aye like that the other nicht when the spanish invaded. the tertin ermae hud flooded the rePUBlics o czechs on a friday, turned up wi a 4-6-0, nae strikers, and got walloped 1-0. so on the tuesday when the spanish came, we wurnae expectin.
the match wiz a sell-oot and we hud wursels ten tickets. ya dancer. wan mare n we coulda hae'd wur ane team. wee boabjim poached thum and we got aw organised. we'd went afore me an boabjim an whit we noticed wiz that the ticket collecters didnae check yer tickets, so for this ane, he got twa big ains and eicht weans (what do the turkish call their weans? kebabees). that wiz fine whener it wiz twa big ains and eicht weans, awmist, but when aw the wee ains dropped oot and wur replaced wi real big ains, it wiz a worry on the heid. shouldnae o been mind, abidie got in nae bovs. the ticket collecters didnae check.
the crood wiz booncin. flooer o scotland wiz loud as. the first half chancez wir pritty even till david villa shot, stephen whittaker haunbawed, and david villa popped in the penalty. wan nil tae the spanish at hauf time. ten minutes intae the second hauf, andres iniesta made it twa nil, and that we thought wiz that. ootta nowhar, charlie adam pass, kenny miller cross, stevie naismith heider, twa-wan. comebacks on. a few mair minutes, darren fletcher and jim morrison wan-two, cross, pique, own goal, twa-twa. whit it a team. the supporters went wild. it wiz scotland mind, an it wisnae tae be. steve mcmanus did whit steve mcmanus does and the big spanish boi popped it in fir three-twa. we wurnae expectin, and we niver got. it wiz awmist nearies.
getting back tae the govan efter a tidy wee short-cut from a taxi man we parked up. in ma beads a spotted twa o twa o the locals haein a chat, nae doubts aboot the nichts match. we got oot the ker in wur scotland tops, and heided towards wur flat. the locals haid fenished their chat. the baldy ain sez tae iz, 'you at the match?' i says 'aye, it wiz grait, awmist'. he says, 'naw it was rubbish, just like friday.' a turn o events i wisnae expectin. 'i says, naw, they wur guid. they wur unlucky. if they'd played like that on friday they wooda won', usin the benefit o hindsight fae ma minds bead. 'aye eh suppose.' he says, 'eh only seen the last twenty meenits. eh diny hauv that sky, eh wiz listening tae the radio while eh was paintin.' 'awrite' i says. 'its no the same is it?' 'naw' he says, 'see ya later', and we went wur ane ways, usin wur minds bead and constucting wur ane realities oota wur hindsights.