On evenings like this – wild and tempestuous and a victory from start to finish – you raise your eyes to the sky and thank the man above for Scott McTominay and his monster killing pals, for Steve Clarke and his brave initiative, and for the Hampden swarm in the entirety of their ground-shaking-under-your-feet rapture.
This was extraordinary, deafening, remarkable.
Scotland hadn’t beaten Spain beginning around 1984, when Mo Johnston and Kenny Dalglish were the legends. Ronald Reagan became leader of the US of America in 1984. Bandage was in 1984. Diego Maradona joined Napoli in 1984. 1984 was a long, long, quite some time in the past. Clarke had celebrated his 21st birthday that year.
At the point when Kieran Tierney dashed away from the Bosses Association loaded Dani Carvajal right off the bat in the last part, a whole arena leaped to its feet in expectation. At the point when McTominay bored his shot between the legs of David Garcia and past Kepa Arrizabalaga, the spot ejected.
