England against Scotland- much more than a football match.

World Cup qualifier, England beat Scotland.

Last night England beat Scotland in a World Cup qualifier 3-0 at Wembley Stadium. But this was far more than a football match. It was a huge collision of egos, a personal battle, a grudge match of the most acrimonious kind, a bloodthirsty dust up, a fiery, passionate contest, a historic sporting confrontation and the most fiercely competitive game in the whole world. There is an underlying current of bad feeling and childish animosity that borders on the outrageous. There is a spite, malice and pettiness that just beggars belief.

On an early November evening at Wembley, England in white shirts and red socks played a team in pink shirts. England, it has to be said, reminded you of Don Revie's incomparable Leeds United of the 1970s. True there were no Norman Hunters, Billy Bremners or Peter Lorimers on the pitch but at times the match did have a distinctly nostalgic feel about it.

Shortly before the match itself, Britain paid admirable homage to those soldiers who gave their life during the First and Second World War. It was a moving and solemn moment both impeccably observed and warmly acknowledged. Nobody, it seems, does tradition and formality better than England and for a few precious and poignant minutes Britain bowed its head reverentially and thought deeply. It was England doing things with style, class and a noble sense of occasion. At times it felt wonderfully nostalgic and splendidly appropriate.

Back on the pitch it all seemed quite peculiar. For decades and centuries the Scottish football team have always played in a dark navy colour that had somehow come to symbolise who Scotland are and where they've come from. It was the nation who turned up at the 1974 World Cup Finals as the team to fear and reckon. Willie Ormond was the manager and the country rallied behind them as never before. Scotland would win the World Cup with their eyes closed and their hands tied behind their backs. Scotland returned back to Britain after a brief tour of West Germany. They were not sun tanned but they all felt humiliated.

Then four years later Scotland put themselves through more agony and torture. Ally Macleod, a cheerful and perhaps misguided manager, buried his hands in his head when those famous world beaters Iran held Scotland to a 0-0 draw and were then thrashed by an infinitely superior and technically gifted Peru 3-1. Scotland were back home and the nation grieved. In every corner of England there was a chuckling, sniggering derision that had to be seen to be believed.

Now though the present day Scotland lined up for the latest instalment in pink. There can be no questioning or criticism of pink football shirts but at first sight it did look unusual  I have to admit it did come as a shock to the system. In the Scotland technical area, manager Gordon Strachan performed a very convincing impersonation of Ally Macleod. When England's second and third goals went in, Strachan's face turned a grey shade of stone. He threw his note book away, glared at the ground in frustration and then, seemingly waved the white flag of surrender.

Strachan's playing days and credentials were faultless. At first Aberdeen and then, quite notably, Manchester United, Strachan was one of the most whole- hearted and committed midfield players in the country, He was tigerish in the tackle, wise and intelligent in his choice of passing and tireless in his pursuit of perfection. Strachan, was fearless, focussed and determined to leave his legacy on a game. He was a winner and never a quitter but at Wembley as Scotland manager the dynamics were different and the job description has so many demands and requirements that, for the moment at least, seem to be weighing Strachan down.

Still Strachan's face betrayed the anxieties of a man who looked as if he'd rather be the manager of Fiji or Thailand than the tartan hordes. Throughout the match last night Strachan kept fidgeting, swaying back and forward restlessly, smiling occasionally but then curling up into a ball as if slightly embarrassed at the match before him. He then rocked backwards and forwards like a man whose pre-match strategies had gone up in smoke. Poor Gordon looked at the ground and then when substitutions were made Strachan walked towards the edge of the pitch like a bank manager wishing his customers well. The suit, shirt and jacket were immaculate but the result was shabby and dishevelled, ragged and misshapen.

In past meetings with the Auld Enemy England and Scotland fixture had the familiar themes. There was the rivalry, tribalism, some would say nationalism, and feelings of so called superiority. Last night there was a raw and earthy feel about the game. Since the end of the Home Championship between both Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales, England have rarely crossed swords and last night's re- acquaintance felt like passing strangers in the night.

So what about that past. Some of England's most recent encounters have often passed off without incident and thankfully free of the trouble that afflicted others. They were honest, hard, rugged  and no- nonsense contest that broke most of the laws and on one horrendous occasion the match spilled over into a full scale riot.

In 1977 Don Revie's England met Scotland at Wembley. There had been nothing in the air to suggest that  violence was about to erupt. At the end of the game Scotland bathed luxuriously in victory and their fans promptly created havoc. Scotland had beaten England 2-1 and this was the cue for wholesale hooliganism and the destruction of both the Wembley turf , the cross bar and posts. It was obscenely ugly and repugnant. The sight of broken crossbars and drunken Scots sends a dreadful shiver down the spine.

Ten years before Scotland emerged triumphant once again. In 1966 England delivered its finest hour with a World Cup Final victory over West Germany. Privately the Scots must have been seething with envy and in 1967 there was an air of glorious presumption. England would take Scotland to the cleaners and rub Scotland's noses in it. England would win by a cricket score. No problem whatsoever.

That year Scottish football had witnessed one of its greatest moments. The Scotland side of Gemmell and Murdoch had delightfully won the European Cup. Scottish football had a vintage quality about it and its short passing  style had once again borne fruition. At the beginning of  the 20th century Scotland loved to keep the ball and the possession game somehow defined them. And yet for one splendid afternoon in 1967 Scotland reminded England of the battle of Bannockburn and Culloden from many centuries distant. Victory for Scotland against England was sweeter than ever before.

Then there was the year of 1975. My team West Ham had one their second FA Cup for the first time since 1964 and England would meet Scotland at the old Wembley Stadium. It would prove one of the most satisfying and pleasant afternoons for any England supporter. England beat Scotland 5-1 emphatically and handsomely. England captain and stylish midfield player for QPR, scored with a thunderous drive from outside the area, Colin Bell, who used to run several marathons, chipped in and by the time the game had finished Scotland's heads were spinning.

Since then Scotland's players have often been more than the sum of its parts.  There was the commanding Jim Baxter, the under-rated but hugely effective Asa Hartford, the magnificently charismatic Archie Gemmill, Peter Lorimer with that explosive shot, Billy Bremner, a tremendous battler, grafter and dedicated to the cause.

When last night's England- Scotland latest instalment had finished it was time for yet more sober reflection. England had won and won conclusively. During the first half it was all a bit messy, laboured and predictable. England it seemed, were probably suffering a hangover from the Sam Allardyce incident. In the second half England wrapped up victory nad Gareth Southgate the caretaker manager locked up the gates, put the broom away and looked forward to another day in the English sun. Noel Coward would have loved it.