The countdown continues, 11 days to the World Cup and the telly's gone fitbonkers. Early last week, somewhere between Gary Lineker's Golden Boots, My Summer With Des, The Truth About Footballers, Faith, Hope and Calamity and Planet Football, Doogie Donnelly popped-up to preview this summer's soccer showpiece. He gurgled with anticipation over some glorious archive footage.
The useful thing about Scotland's all-time World Cup highlights is that they fit neatly into a 30 second TV trail. ''I never thought I'd say this,'' admitted my pal Paul, ''but I'm actually getting bored of seeing Archie Gemmill's goal against Holland''.
I laughed, because he was joking, right? What Scotsman could seriously tire of the spectacle Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano described as ''Dutch dancing to the tune of a lone bagpiper?''.
At Euro 96 I even got a T-shirt of Archie's greatest moment screenprinted for watching the TV.
My outfit for the forthcoming Brazil game has involved much more serious planning. Lately I've taken to trying on women's clothes. Now, before you ring The Travel Club asking if their tickets can be revoked via a sanity clause, there is a kind of logic to this behaviour.
For the trip to Paris I've decided to fashion myself a wee pair of plaid shorts from some cheaply-purchased tartan troosers. Most charity shops stock plenty of such garments. True, they tend to be situated in their ladies section but since I'd be hacking them down I didn't think that mattered.
That's how I found myself thumbing through skirts in my local Cancer Research shop last week fully convinced it was perfectly rational behaviour. I chanced upon a pair of bright pink tartan M&S ladies slacks. Carnival stuff, I thought. ''Have you got a fitting room?'' I enquired of the two elderly women behind the counter. ''Those are women's son,'' came the wary reply. ''It's okay, I'm going to The World Cup,'' I explained ''I'm making shorts''.
The attendants looked at each other and then at me ''Would he get into a 10?'' one asked ''Well, he's quite slim in the hips,'' said the other. I felt my cheeks turning the colour of the trousers before they pointed me behind a curtain.
Unfortunately the manufacturers had chosen figure-hugging chic over practicality. I managed to hoist-up the side-zip but slipping my ankles into the elasticated stirrups proved impossible.
Come June 10, when, after all this effort, I finally swan up to The Stade De France in my custom-made tartan hot-pants, Doogie D had better corner me for an interview.
q Cowdenbeath have finally finished the season with a trophy! The second annual Scottish football fanzine tournament, organised by St Mirren mag, ''Saints Quarterly'', and contested last week at Forthbank, Stirling.
The Fifers representing ''When The Sun Shines'' beat off ''Mass Hibsteria'' in the final of a 12-team cup which included scribbling supporters from all over the country. The Wooden Spoon went to a group of writers and producers from Radio Scotland's ''Off The Ball'', who lost every single game they played.
Indeed, after the final whistle, one victorious Blue Brazilian was overheard chuckling to himself - ''Those BBC boys think they bring comedy tae fitba ken . . . well they've fair made us pee wur drawers today''.
qBefore I can officially call myself a Scotland supporter there's still Partick Thistle business to get on with. At 1.0pm today, Maryhill Community Halls hosts the inaugural meeting of The Jags Trust.
It's a group set up to provide a voice for the supporters and continue club fund-raising in the wake of the successful Save The Jags campaign.
The new board seem keen to keep relations cordial so that when they deliver the premier league title in four years there's no threat of a fans huddle protest round Firhill. When the supporters' voice is first heard though, it'll probably be utilised to ask: ''When are we getting a manager?''
The shortlist of possible candidates for the job seems more impressive than when Thistle sacked their boss last year. As usual, ex-Jags feature prominently; Cowboy John McCormack has chucked his 10-gallon into the ring, John Lambie hasn't escaped being tipped for a return and there's always the dream ticket of Andy Roxburgh and Alan Hansen.
Murdo MacLeod, who's already tasted Div 2 promotion success with Dumbarton, might also be persuaded to come back, especially if Celtic dump him. Personally I'd rather the job went to Murdo's possible Parkhead replacement, Eric Black. Coaching abilities aside, his credentials include a club colour as a surname and therefore he suits the Firhill chants best. There's an apt ring to ''Eric Black's Red and Yellow Army'' or even ''Eric's Black, Red and Yellow Army''.
I'll raise this point this afternoon. After all, if the fans are to have a voice surely what that voice actually sings has to be given serious consideration.
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