Two Scottish, once hot-headed football supporters showed Tom Egbers how a common enemy can unite opponents. The shared enemy is called Boris Johnson; the two opponents are supporters of arch-rivals Celtic and Rangers Glasgow. The first club traditionally rooted in Celtic highlander culture, the second Angehaucht angehaucht and enamored of London. In the past, the respective Catholic and Protestant supporters preferred to beat each other’s brains, now they fight arm in arm against everything that is destroying central authority in London, and for Scottish independence. At the kitchen table, the two explained it brotherly.
In his documentary series Toms Scotland made Tom Egbers, Studio Sportspresenter and recognized lover of the United Kingdom, the undertow that is stirring up the spirits in Scotland was clearly visible on Sunday. Where Prime Minister Johnson led his country partying at 10 Downing Street to Brexit and through the pandemic, the Scots are already navigating between the rubble that crashed from those two disasters. The tourism industry has been severely damaged by the lockdowns and many irreplaceable – European – staff have left as collateral damage from Brexit. When the tourists will return soon, there will be no waiters and cooks in restaurants, no cleaners for hotels.
More than 60 percent of Scots, who have felt deprived of London since time immemorial, now support the pursuit of independence. That could be interpreted by philosophers, opinion makers and political scientists, but Egbers focused his search for the independent Scottish soul on the love for sport of ordinary people on Sunday. A love in which all life comes together. Fortunately, Egbers did not explicitly search for anti-English sentiments, but penetrates deeper into Scottish culture. Whoever understands its character also better understands the distaste for London.
In addition to befriending Celtic and Rangers fans, Egbers went to the St Andrews golf course, where the sport originated six centuries ago. Today it is a tourist attraction where the rich and famous – hey, there’s Ruud Gullit ambling on the green – paying two hundred pounds for a game. Then he visited a moribund course where only nine of the eighteen holes were playable. Volunteer ladies played around with Egbers. The landowner, typically upper class, with his heart in the right place, kept things in order with them out of a sense of community and ‘to get the young people to play golf’. Typically Scottish, perhaps, that cross-class solidarity, but, from a continental perspective, very British at the same time.
The scene in which it was about the unofficial national anthem was touching Flower of Scotland, which had played such an important role in the Scottish rugby team’s legendary victory over the English in 1990. One of the players told Egbers with tears in his eyes how in preparation for the match the team had an invincible brotherhood singing the anthem forged. “Nobody kept it dry.”
London still has a lot to do with that Scottish soul.
