To this day, the sand on the beach in Rimini is still the finest I have ever felt. Like talcum powder. At the amusement arcade along the road, they played jukebox music videos on the big TV screen. Even now at times, I see Sinead O'Connor's face, with the words to 'Nothing Compares 2 U' running through my mind.
My dad Billy was like Del Boy with his massive, old-school video camcorder that he had 'loaned' from our local community centre back home. Determined to film every last detail. My brother Ross and I had new, pristine Italy home kits, complete with foot-less socks. And my mum, God bless her, looking after us every day.
For 36 years, these little flashbacks have popped into my head randomly from the best family holiday we ever had. But the one thing that made it truly special? Football. World Cup football. Italia 90.
The Birth of a Love for the Game
The earliest memory I have of playing the game was four years before that. It was on the triangular patch of grass in front of my Granny Sloan's close on Castlemilk Drive, with the cracked 'No ball games' stone embedded in the ground. A tree as one goalpost and a jumper as the other. And at six-years old, I am trying to recreate Diego Maradona's goal at the 1986 World Cup in Mexico against Belgium. A lack of bodies means my dribble is in between invisible red shirts. But it is the finish I want. And more importantly, the celebration where the little Argentine genius is falling - but manages to stay on his feet - after he has stuck the ball in the back of the Belgian net. That summer, my love for the game was born. THAT is what the World Cup does.
Fast Forward to 1990
Suddenly I am part of it. It was surreal. We made the seven-hour trip by coach from Rimini to Genoa for Scotland's opening game against Costa Rica with no tickets. My dad, having the gift of the gab, managed to get us two from an Italian outside the Luigi Ferraris Stadium for the grand total of £100. Incredibly, kids got in for free. And somehow, we were in the posh seats, main stand. If you watch pre-match footage of that day, you will see a brass band playing on the pitch, dressed in all-white. We were sat immediately behind the conductor. At half-time, his outfit was ruined by a big, brown mark on his back, from where Ross had planted his foot for the entire first 45 minutes. Just to be there and witness Scotland playing at a World Cup was unforgettable.
Then a guy called Juan Cayasso put a dampener on things by scoring Costa Rica's winner. Incredibly, last week I tracked him down for a Record Sport interview and told him he had spoiled my big day.
After such a poor start to the tournament, we decided to stay in Rimini for the next match against Sweden. We watched it in a bar with a group of Tartan Army foot soldiers from a pub in Stirling who could not get tickets. The atmosphere that night, after we won 2-1, will live with me for the rest of my life. When the hosts won a game, they would take to the streets in their cars and sound their horns. We just danced in the streets to beeping sounds of our own. That sense of camaraderie you feel as a kid for the first time stays with you.
At that age, football had already gripped me. But this was another level. I was now obsessed. And of course, you quickly learn that dealing with disappointment is part of it. After losing our last group game to Brazil, we waited for Uruguay's result to see if we had sneaked through. We should have known better. We were on our way home after the trip of a lifetime. As a family, it would never be beaten. Decades later, whenever we went to my dad's house, he would dig out the DVDs - that he had converted from VHS - and stick them on to reminisce. My mum was the shyest, most humble person you would ever meet. But on that trip to Italy, even she let her hair down and savoured those moments with her two boys.
The Long Wait for a Return
It would be 24 years before I would try and go back to a World Cup and re-live it. In 2014, Scotland were not there but me and a group of pals saved up the cash to go to Brazil. Finally, I could recreate those Italia 90 memories, Samba-style. But as I went to board a connecting flight from Madrid to Rio, I got a call from my wife, Debbie, saying her dad, Harry, had died. So, instead of going to South America, I was on an EasyJet back to Liverpool then a train up the road to be with her. I will never forget sitting at a carousel waiting for my bag to come off the plane, when a colleague, Michael Grant called me. He was obviously sympathetic but his last words were: 'You will get to another World Cup'. I started to well up. With all due respect, how likely was that? Scotland had not qualified since 1998 and, from a work point of view, others were ahead of me in the pecking order. At that point, it was hard to see how I would EVER get to a World Cup again and feel what I felt in Italy all those years ago.
Saturday Night in Boston
That is why Saturday night in Boston, Massachusetts, USA, was special on so many levels. The Euros in 2024 in Germany was a fantastic experience. But the World Cup is unique. Instead of Costa Rica, it was Haiti. Instead of Andy Roxburgh, it was Steve Clarke. Instead of Mo Johnston, it was Lawrence Shankland. And the Tartan Army were exactly the same. For me, I was transported back to Italy, feeling like a 10-year-old again, with the same nerves, excitement, pride and exhilaration. Every single Scotland fan in that stadium would have felt the same. I know people who were in the crowd. And it would have been special for them, for their own specific reasons, because of a whole range of emotions.
Both of my parents passed away in 2024 within five months of each other. They never got to see me go to another World Cup. But as I watched Scotland win their first game at the tournament since Italia 90 thanks to John McGinn's goal, I could not help but think about them. That feeling I had in Boston? THEY gave me it by taking me to Rimini on that holiday - and I will be forever grateful.
For all the mums and dads in the stadium on Saturday night who took their kids - if it has the same effect on them as it did on me - they will not give them a greater gift. There was only one big difference. This time, we actually won. And that made it even better.
