It was cricket's shock of the year so far- Scotland beat England in a One Day International. Remember where you read, heard and saw it. A huge shock was registered at Lords headquarters and the members of the spiritual home of cricket briefly paused for breath, spluttered their disbelief into their cognacs and brandies, lit a pensive cigar, blamed the selectors, blamed the weather and then accepted the harsh reality of the moment.
Yesterday at one of those British postcard perfect cricket grounds in Edinburgh the cricketers of Scotland enjoyed another healthy Dundee slice of cake after Sir Kenny Dalglish had threatened to steal the thunder of the Scottish cricket team. To quote the famous old song anything you can do they can certainly do better. Even in hindsight it still seems as though that it didn't actually happen but it did and who can take anything away from our boys in tartan because this may be the right time for a huge helping of respect and appreciation.
But at the Grange cricket ground tucked away in the embracing folds of an Edinburgh beauty spot, the cricketers of Scotland did many a Highland jig around the swords of an England team who probably thought that, although they've been playing the game for a number of centuries, there had to be a moment in history when just for one day - or maybe more in the future- the fates of fortune had dictated that Scotland would actually beat England at cricket in the second week of June 2018. Sport can be so magical at times.
Yes, believe it or not Scotland beat England with a mammoth one day total of 371-5 winning by six runs as the tea buns were about to be served and the first shadows of a Scottish evening began to lengthen gently in the gloaming. Deep in the heart of Edinburgh the heartbeat of a nation trembled for just a minute or two at the sudden realisation that Scotland- yes Scotland - were taking their Auld Firm neighbours to the cleaners, ripping them to shreds, leaving them demoralised, stunned, bewildered, horribly shaken, shattered, broken, in tatters, totally dishevelled. The day could hardly have got any worse.
Those of an English sporting persuasion had nowhere to hide their heads in the terrible aftermath of what looks like another embarrassing defeat. We must have thought we'd seen it all when little Iceland got the better of us at Euro 2016 and poor Roy Hodgson, the England boss looked as though he'd have given anything to jump into a dark hole. But two years on and now English cricket has been wounded. poleaxed. lost for words, wishing that they could have been anywhere but Edinburgh.
Step forward one Callum Macleod. Now there's a Scottish name to conjure with, as traditional as haggis, as resonant as a bagpipe and vastly impressive into the bargain. Macleod mercilessly and barbarously smashed a century for the Scots and then rubbed salt into the English wound with 140 not out. Presumably he clubbed, clouted, lofted, pulled his way to all sides of Edinburgh and almost reached Glasgow with some of his beautifully resourceful strokes.
And just to make matters even worse for England Macleod even had the brass neck to notch up 93 with his medium pace bowler colleague Richie Berrington. Macleod, as if he hadn't quite finished with England, then succeeded in whipping up a storm with George Munsey with an incredible stand of 107. It was all very bruising, hurtful, insulting and almost derogatory. How dare those English lords of the manor challenge Scotland to a game of cricket? Besides it was about time England got a taste of their own pungent medicine. It only seems fair.
For England this had to be one of the lowest points in the history of their game. True, there have perhaps been more shameful days in English sport. But for a country who have been playing the summer sport for so long and, from time to time, quite brilliantly, this was a game that left a nasty dent in the English shield and a few scratches in the once golden escutcheon of English cricket. Fear not though English cricket will return and maybe with a vengeance.
On the plus side Eoin Morgan did present us with a one day side more than capable of stacking up barrow loads of runs on any pitch. But the one day game for England does bring with it its problematic complications. Occasionally England seem to take their eyes off a red cricket ball, longing desperately for the five day Test match routine where two sets of innings are built painstakingly, the bowlers send down their missiles, the tension can be felt almost constantly and the umpires seem to take all the time in the world at mid wicket.
Admittedly Johnny Bairstow, ever reliable and punishing every loose ball that came his way, rattled up a well crafted century, blasting the Scottish bowling aggressively into a small corner of the Grange pavilion. Liam Plunkett also chipped in with a healthy and positive 47 not out while all around him English cricketers were struggling to find out what exactly was going on around them. They must have thought they'd done enough on the day but then realised that they had a contest on their hands and that Scotland were not about to be rolled over and have their tummies tickled submissively.
Both Alex Hales. the ever popular and engaging Joe Root, Sam Billings and David Willey seemed to stand on ceremony as Scottish doggedness, drive and sheer grit, propelled them sky high. By the end of this astonishing piece of sporting gallantry, Scotland raced through to the end and won by six runs. The dark navy shirted players rushed towards each other in one helluva celebration. They hugged each other playfully and then the magnitude of their completely unexpected victory suddenly dawned on them.
Did this really happen or were they indeed just fantasising? Indeed, time had stopped still on this day of days, when logic takes a temporary back seat, the form book takes itself off to the Costa Brava for a week and sporting observers from far and wide hold their breath, look to the skies, check they haven't wandered onto some Hollywood film set and let out an enormous cheer. Wow, what a day that had been! And how those English must be sorrowfully licking their wounds and then applying sticking plasters on bloody gashes.
Yesterday in a pretty, prim and, doubtless, religiously puritanical corner of Edinburgh, a nation flooded back to Sunday evening churches, smiling broadly, hugging themselves proudly and barely able to take it all in. Who would have thought that Scottish sport could ever have had it so good? Firstly, there was Kenny Dalglish with his knighthood and now the Scottish cricket team had delivered a sucker punch straight into the English stomach, right into the solar plexus where the toughest blows are often landed. Scotland had beaten England at cricket. Now how gloatingly satisfying that was. Take that you Sassanachs!
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