It’s always the same. Just look at our reaction when we have a spell of nice weather.

In the first couple of days, we rejoice in the ‘taps aff’ temperatures. By day three or four, people are saying things like ‘they like it hot, but not this hot’, or ‘we could be doing with some rain to clear the air’.

Well, enough. Why can’t we just enjoy nice things when they briefly puncture what can largely be - let’s be honest - a pretty grey existence here in our little corner of the world?

The same can be said for our attitudes towards the Scotland national team. For years, decades in fact, we weathered misery and disappointment at every turn. Qualifying for a major tournament was as fanciful a notion as a Weetabix-headed celebrity of Scottish descent (no, not the beloved Archie MacPherson) becoming the leader of the free world. But remarkably, both of these things eventually happened.

Remember 2016, when the rest of the home nations qualified for the Euros, and gloried in asking us to put their bins out while they partied in France? The best we could hope for was living vicariously through whichever country was playing England, and rejoicing when the auld enemy mercifully fell short.

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Enter Steve Clarke. Not only did the Scotland manager take us to our first major tournament in over two decades, he backed it up by qualifying for another this summer. Granted, in between times we had the sheen rather taken off the last Euros by Covid and some disappointing results once there, and a near miss in the play-offs for the World Cup against Ukraine, too. But think about where we came from.

Berti Vogts. Boozegate. Craig Levein and the 4-6-0. Chris Iwelumo’s miss against Norway (sorry, big man). Harry Kane’s last-gasp equaliser at Hampden. Kazakhstan. And any number of other calamities you care to mention that littered the 20-odd years that came before Clarke.

Now, here we are, standing on the verge of a major tournament with one of the most talented groups of players we have assembled in a generation or two. A proper tournament, too. No Covid restrictions, hosted in one of the world’s great footballing nations.

What’s more, we’re playing in the first game. The opening match of Euro 2024 against hosts Germany, in the Allianz Arena, with the eyes of the world upon us.

And what are doing? Moaning. Of course we are.

I should say here that while I recognise being pessimistic is something of a national pastime, a great many fans are indeed excited about what is to come in Germany. But it just feels as though the build up to this Euros has been dampened somewhat by an outbreak of dourness across the land.

Injuries have played a part in that. We will go to the tournament without Aaron Hickey, Nathan Patterson, Lewis Ferguson, Jacob Brown, Lyndon Dykes and Ben Doak. But out of those players, despite Dykes being an integral member of the squad, only Aaron Hickey would have been guaranteed to start against the Germans.

So, let’s not allow those withdrawals, as heartbreaking as they are for the individuals involved, to create a narrative that we are turning up to a gun fight with a water pistol.

The depth of the squad has been affected, yes, but we will still be fielding a team packed with accomplished, experienced, top-level players across our three (initial) fixtures. There has never been a better chance for Scotland to finally get the monkey off our backs of never having progressed past a group stage of a major tournament either. One win could get us there.

Recent form has been a bit of a buzzkill too, I will concede. The wisdom of taking on friendlies against the likes of The Netherlands and France was questioned at the time, and the subsequent thumpings were disappointing. But explainable.

It was something of a second string that took on a full-strength French side in Paris, just days after the players had been allowed to celebrate their qualification to the Euros with more than a few cervezas after a great display in a narrow defeat to Spain.

And in Amsterdam, a much stronger-looking Scotland side were the better team against the Dutch for 70 minutes before a raft of substitutions saw the roof caving in. Even the poor defeat to Northern Ireland saw Scotland have over 80 percent possession against a team who got up the park once and, to their credit, made it count.

It was similar in many ways to the win over Gibraltar on Monday, except they didn’t really get up the park at all. Scotland missed a host of chances in that game, too, but got the win while Clarke tried out a different formation and got minutes into the legs of his players.

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It was a training exercise in all but name, but still, for many, it was a portent of doom for what lies ahead in Germany. Jeezo.

If we lose to Finland and perform poorly at Hampden on Friday night, with what will be closer to the team and set-up that starts in Munich, maybe then I’ll be a little concerned. But I think Clarke and his players have earned a little more trust from the nation than many are giving them, and they certainly deserve a raucous send-off as they look to go out there and make their country proud.

I am not quite going full Ally McLeod and saying we can win the whole thing, and we all want to progress past the point where simply taking part in these tournaments is no longer enough, but where is the joy in pooh-poohing our chances before we’ve even clapped eyes on Marienplatz?

This might come back to bite me if we do indeed fall flat in Germany, but this doom and gloom is not for me. Call me a blind optimist if you will, but this is only our second tournament since B*Witched were top of the charts with C’est La Vie, Tony Blair was Prime Minister and I barfed up Merrydown at the age of 15 just after John Collins had equalised against Brazil.

Just like then, forgive me if I enjoy it. This manager, and this team, are capable of creating history. Let’s show them on Friday night at Hampden that we believe they can too, and that we believe in them.