During last year’s World Cup in France, I was sitting at a sidewalk café in Reims watching England’s final group game against Japan. Whenever there was a goal in the group’s simultaneous Scotland-Argentina matchup, the action would switch. 1-0 Scotland, 2-0 Scotland, 3-0 Scotland! At each goal I gave a small pump of my fist and a squeak of triumph, prompting an American at the same table to ask me if I was Scottish.
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