On Tour with the Tartan Army – Part 3: Off to the Match

On Tour with the Tartan Army – Part 3: Off to the Match

 

Video links below

After all that pre-match entertainment, it was finally time to head towards the game itself. This was no ordinary fixture: the opening match of the entire tournament, with Scotland facing the defending champions and five-time World Cup winners, Brazil. It’s a familiar story for Scotland—we seem destined to be drawn against Brazil in tournament after tournament. Even in 2026, there they are again. Some rivalries choose you.

Both sets of supporters have previously won Fans of the Tournament, and with good reason. The Tartan Army and the Brazilian faithful bring colour, rhythm, humour and warmth wherever they go. It’s a perfect cultural blend.

The match was to be played at the newly built Stade de France, in Saint-Denis to the north of Paris. Kenny had his ticket secured, but Theo and I were still hopeful. Experience tells you that someone, somewhere, might have a spare—plans change, friends don’t arrive, miracles happen. So we stayed optimistic.

We boarded the local train that runs directly to the stadium—football travel doesn’t get much better than that. Stepping off the train, the atmosphere hit you immediately: the skirl of Scottish pipes colliding joyfully with Brazilian samba. A sea of colour, noise, and good humour surrounded us.

Sadly, no tickets materialised. But we knew exactly where to go next—the Fan Zone, aptly named “The Brazilian Café”, located right beside the stadium. Theo and I headed there. The space was the size of a full football pitch, with giant screens at either end where the goalposts would normally stand. Scots, Brazilians, and supporters from all over the world packed the place, giving it a truly cosmopolitan feel.

As kick-off approached, we could hear the roar building inside the stadium itself. In the Fan Zone, we belted out Flower of Scotland, then happily helped the Brazilians along with their own anthem. The whistle blew, and off we went—Scotland versus the giants of world football.

The opening minutes were torrid. Brazil poured forward relentlessly, peppering our goal with shots. In the fifth minute, they scored from a corner—appearing to shoulder the ball into the net. The samba drums exploded into life, while the Scots fell momentarily silent, stunned by how effortlessly Brazil had struck.

Once again, Scotland faced the climb.

But we’re never there purely for results—we’re there for the occasion. The pipes struck up in the Fan Zone, and the wider crowd responded. On the pitch, as so often happens, Scotland began to grow into the game precisely when the odds seemed stacked against us.

Then came the moment.

Three Scottish players burst into the Brazilian penalty area with real intent. Two were bundled to the ground—penalty. The referee produced a yellow card and pointed to the spot. The tension was unbearable as John Collins stepped forward. Some fans couldn’t look. Others prayed. Hands covered mouths.

Collins struck the ball firmly to the goalkeeper’s right. The keeper went the right way—but the shot had too much power. The net rippled. The place erupted.

I glanced around and noticed fans of other nations staring at us in disbelief. When the roar subsided, the pipes and folk songs took over once more. The party was now in full swing. Scotland had equalised just before half-time, and both teams headed to the sheds locked at one goal apiece.

In the Fan Zone, the music and singing never stopped. At one point, a particularly brave—or foolish—kilted warrior decided to climb a very tall flagpole. With security watching in disbelief, up he went, still clutching his drink. The wind had other ideas, though, and kept lifting his kilt, revealing just how authentic his commitment to tradition really was. The laughter was priceless.

The second half saw both sides trading blows. With less than twenty minutes to go, we began to believe. A draw against Brazil would have felt like a victory.

Then came the heartbreak.

Brazil pressed again. A close-range shot struck our goalkeeper Jim Leighton, rebounded off the shoulder of defender Tommy Boyd—who was sprinting back to help—and rolled into the net. An own goal. A Scot scoring for Brazil. Generosity is one thing, but that was taking it too far.

Many grown men were in tears.

Heads dropped, but the spirit remained. We regrouped, sang again, and stood tall—but it wasn’t to be. The final score was 2–1 to Brazil.

The remainder of the tournament followed a familiar pattern: a 1–1 draw with our Nordic friends Norway, then a 3–0 defeat to Morocco. Once again, Scotland exited at the group stage, the next round remaining just out of reach.

But once the disappointment settled, the Tartan Army did what it always does—embraced the occasion, shared songs and stories with Brazilian supporters, and turned local squares into places of celebration.

Looking ahead to the next World Cup, one has to smile. Guess who’s in our group again? Brazil. Of course they are.

Back in 1998, we qualified second from the group. Just last month, we topped our group after a breathtaking home victory over Denmark. Hope, after all, is the most Scottish tradition of them all.

Let’s see what happens next.

 

SCOTLAND V DENMARK   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73cVhK9qL1o&t=108s

Scotland Brazil 1998

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5aJPUP_sJ8