Scotland Writers 2 – 1 Italy Writers
Ainslie Park, Edinburgh, Saturday 20th June, 2015
Report by Allan Wilson
Pictures by Andy Watson
“To win is not the most important thing, football is an art and should be showing creativity.” Socrates
It’s hard to pick any one highlight from the weekend of Scotland Writers v Italy Writers. Was it Johnstone’s curling right foot effort into the top corner? Simon Weir and Gianluca Lombardi’s rendition of Matthew Fitt’s Scotia-Italiano poem? What about the Dominos pizza the Italian team shared after drinking all that Irn Bru? What about the sunshine? What about the referee shouting down Wilson – you’ve lost it son! What about Simon Weir’s straight-outta-Milan-fashion-week perm? What about Peter Mackay’s never say die or ouch or anything but SCOTLAND! first half performance? Danny Scott’s last minute save? It was all these things. And it was Socrates.
The Brazilian footballing icon of the 70s and 80s might not be the first person you think about when you picture Scotland taking on Italy in Edinburgh. And while he obviously wasn’t there (he sadly died in 2011 at the age of 57…and even if he hadn’t I can’t see him leaving Sao Paulo to get to Pilton for a 3pm kick off) a lot of the weekend took place in an atmosphere more suited to the way Socrates viewed football and life than the football we see in Serie A or even Scotland’s best league The Championship.
“They don’t want me to drink, smoke or think. Well… I drink, smoke and think.” Socrates
Writers Football has never really been about being in the best shape of your life. Socrates was a master on the football pitch and that was in spite of being a bevvy merchant, smoking the wacky baccy and never training. Writers teams do the drinking, smoking, thinking thing quite well so hopefully it’s only a matter of time until we master the football. Marco Mathieu’s documentary ‘Uno di noi, Socrates’ (‘Socrates, One of Us’) which both teams watched together as part of the evening event at the Italian institute was without doubt one of the highlights of the weekend. It charted Socrates’ life in football and his influence on Brazilian society both then and now. It was a beautiful piece of documentary filmmaking and the man at the centre of it is a fitting emblem for Writers Football in general. We try (though usually fail) to be artists on the pitch but when the game is over we are friends and colleagues. We share stories about our country and hear them about others. We give and receive gifts, offer and sample international hospitality and generally realise that despite language barriers, cultural differences or whatever else, we are similar.
But it wasn’t all love and cuddles on the park. I know that Socrates is right when he says winning isn’t the most important thing. Intellectually I accept that premise without question. We’ve lost enough games to know it as well. And if you’ve been a Scotland supporter all your life you realise that losing can be an art in itself. Nobody is more creative than us at losing. But can we win and be creative at the same time?
The Scotland team went into the game confident despite a run of defeats including a penalty shootout loss against England and a bit of a doing by the Scottish journalists. Playing against an Italian team who not only beat us 4-0 last October but who have for a long time been regarded as the best writers football team, the confidence we had shows a weakness in our collective sanity. But it was a sunny day and we were getting to run around in front of a stand with at least ten people in it so confidence was understandably high.
Scotland started strongly with nice passing and fast attacks. The midfield of Johnstone, Newton, Mackay and Crawford were supporting the strikers well and whenever the Italians burst forward we were solid at the back. The defence of Gulliver, Weir and Whitelaw were backed up by debutant (and former pro) David Farrell. This instilled even greater confidence in the Scottish side. If things were looking ropey we knew we’d have big Dave at the back to sweep up our mistakes. You could tell he was a class act. And until his hamstring went ping five minutes after kick off he did everything right. His departure was a huge blow for the home side and gave the Italians a boost.
A few crafty attacks by Italy were thwarted only by the ever-dependable Danny Scott in goal or last gasp tackles by the back four. Francesco Trento, the Italian centre forward, was dangerous on the break and got on the end of a number of nice passes delivered from the silky midfield of Lombardi, Grande, Menni and Sbaraglia. But thankfully for Scotland no goals came of these attacks.
It was around this time that a word started being used that isn’t normally heard on the football parks of Scotland. It was musical, sweet like a bird singing and would feel a wee bit out of place on a five-a-side pitch in Clydebank. But it was beautiful. Bellisimo! Whenever the Italians sprayed a cross field pass, won a header or hit a shot on target about four or five voices called out in harmony: bellisimo! While much of the Italian play was absolutely bellisimo there were still no goals and soon it was Scotland who were bellisimoing right up the park. Prego this and prego that, pizza, macaroni, shall brothers be for aw that.
And soon the breakthrough came. Peter Mackay who with his long flowing locks and phenomenal performance was playing so well you’d have thought he was a Gaelic speaking Roman, skinned the defender and fired a shot that was tipped onto the bar by Italian keeper Stefano Lazzarini. The ball bobbled about the six yard box for a while until Newton used his head to knock the ball into the path of Wilson for a cheeky toe poke finish. 1-0 Scotland. Gooooooooallllllaccio!!!!!!
After the restart the Italian side regained their composure with Grande causing problems for the Scots up and down the left wing. Midfield dynamo Lombardi was pulling the strings in the centre of the park. He was Pirlo-esque at times no more so than when his swerving free kick forced a leaping save from 6 foot 5 Goalkeeper Danny Scott. If he’d been 6 foot 4 he wouldn’t have saved it. And that is the truth.
Lombardi’s strength on the ball made him a difficult man to regain possession from throughout the game and the centre half pairing of Gulliver and Weir showed much coolness and courage in the nervy period after the Scottish goal. When the half-time whistle blew it was 1-0 Scotland but the game was far from over.
The second half started in a similar fashion to the first with both teams playing good football and the ball going from end to end. There were chances for both sides with Mackie and Johnstone coming close for the Scots and seventeen year old Carlo Grande Junior making defence splitting runs in the Italian attack.
Around 60 minutes in, with both teams beginning to tire and the rolling subs rule being fully utilised, Scotland won the ball in midfield and attacked quickly in numbers with Newton, Wilson, Buckland and Johnstone all around the edge of the Italian box. Newton made an incisive run before cutting it back to Wilson at the edge of the dee. Buckland was ahead of him with a nice angle to shoot from and Johnstone was just behind near the corner of the box. Wilson played a Socrates-esque backheel to the left footed Johnstone who used his right foot to curl a screamer into the top corner of the Italian net. Lazzarini made a valiant attempt to reach it but this shot was not the type of shot you reach. It was the type of goal you remember forever and tell strangers about when drunk on a bus. It was the type of goal that years from now will be known as ‘that goal Doug scored from inside his own half’. It was a total beauty and it was fitting that Johnstone’s family were watching from the stand.
At 2-0 Scotland were flying. Weir was screaming from the defence that we were to finish the Italians, kill the game. There were no shouts of Bellisimo now. It was a battle from both sides with neither side willing to concede a 50-50. There were definitely moments when the Scotland side had visions of a five niller but that again shows lunacy within the Scottish ranks. The lead lasted all of two minutes.
Italy’s danger man Francesco Trento collected the ball on the edge of the box, turned his man and fired hard into the bottom corner. It was a well-made goal and well deserved.
2-1 Scotland.
There was half an hour still to play. Our father who art in heaven, oh dio mio, dear entity I deny the existence of who some people refer to as God…please say you are Scottish.
And if God exists then he wears a beautiful big kilt. Despite some great chances, Scotland held on. Scott pulled off some wonder saves, players on both sides were kicked at opportune moments but when the whistle blew that was it. Scotland had defeated Italy. An unbelievable result and one that according to England writers FC has ‘sent shockwaves across the world of writers football’.
After the game both teams had a great night at the Italian Institute. We drank, sang and ate our national dish of chicken pakora. The performances during the day had been special but it’s the readings, films and songs that are always the pinnacle of these days. And the night ended with the film about Socrates.
“The best thing that football gave me was the chance to get to know human beings.” Socrates
Well said.
Scotland Writers FC 