Six Nations 2000 SCOTLAND 16 - FRANCE 28

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My first visit to an international rugby match saw Scotland, the Five Nations holders, meet France, the World Cup runners up. France came to Murrayfield having been beaten by England in a tense match, while Scotland went down to Italy and Ireland in displays of rugby that even the uneducated (i.e. me!) could see were very poor. The newspapers have been baying for blood, calling the Scottish team "Spineless" amongst other things. So we're all set for disappointment as we join the throng heading for the stadium.

For me, Six Nations (well, let's be honest, all rugby) matches are usually an excuse (as if I needed one) to go to the pub and drink lots of beer, while my more-keen friends watch (and shout) at the match on TV. I mean, I know that lots of people get very excited about it, and it can affect their whole lives for the eight weeks that it takes to run, but it really hasn't affected me that much. For me, sport generally needs to involve engines.

All hail the home of Scottish Rugby!

Wandering down the road to the stadium, the first thing that struck me was the number of people selling tickets. Whether this is normal, or a reflection of Scotland's waning fortunes, I couldn't say. Whatever, the atmosphere was quite quiet, both Scots and French supporters wending their way toward the stadium.

Setting aside the fact that we didn't know which part of the stadium was South, and then went into the wrong section, we arrived at our seats just before the end of the French national anthem, and therefore just in time to join in with the (much louder) rendition of Flower of Scotland. Which ended with cannons. No cannons for the French though!

As a game of rugby it was OK, France were weakened by injuries, and Scotland were weakened by generally not being very good. Kenny Logan's kicking was, as usual, wild. Gregor Townsend still managed to drop the ball with depressing regularity. 

Through thick and thin, Scottish Rugby has national support

Still, a tight first half, and then an early second half try put Scotland in the lead. The anticipated immediate, crushing fight-back by the French took time to materialise, and for a time, just for a little time, we began to believe that maybe, just maybe, the Scots might pull it off.

Of course, we were to be disappointed. Missed kicks and dropped balls let Scotland down for the third time this year, and a couple of late tries from France decided it.

We trundled out of the stadium, voices hoarse from all the shouting, to the only place worth going on such an occasion: the pub. Now the Scots were as quiet as on the way in, but the French were singing. Which, obviously, was not on. The sorrows were duly drowned.

Thanks to Tom for the tickets!

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