Clarke’s masterplan, so to speak, was playing Kieran Tierney ahead of Robertson on the left, two vastly experienced operators to deal with the threat of Hakimi and Brahim Diaz.
A risk, for sure. And so much for the thinking behind it. Just over a minute gone – Diaz assist, Ismael Saibari goal, the nightmare scenario come true.
The traffic cone guys weren’t letting such trifling issues dampen their day.
Everybody else had a haunted look about them, their noise and passion reduced to soft groans, the lusty pride they all displayed with another thumping rendition of Flower of Scotland now replaced with shrieks as Morocco ran amok.
Or threatened to run amok. Seventy seconds it took them to score. For much of the opening half they were like a cultured fighter, boxing the ears off an over-matched rival, bamboozling their punchbag with their movement before what felt like an inevitable knockout.
Scotland were on the ropes, covering up and praying that the punishment would stop. And minute by minute, it did.
Morocco’s intensity was wonderful for half an hour and they could have been two or three ahead by then, but they weren’t. They’re terrific footballers, very easy on the eye, but they’re not ruthless, not killers. Scotland’s resilience kept them in it.
When Morocco’s energy started to dissipate, it became a contest.
Scotland finished the opening half strongly, their confidence rising, those worried stares on the faces of their supporters giving way to blessed hope.
