Every time a major tournament rolls around, the British sports media dusts off the most tired, patronizing question in modern football.
“Will our Scottish cousins get behind the Three Lions this time?” If you enjoyed this piece, you might want to look at: this related article.
It is a question rooted in a bizarre mix of imperial nostalgia, media narcissism, and a fundamental misunderstanding of football culture. When England faces a historical rival like Argentina, the hand-wringing reaches a fever pitch. Pundits line up to dissect the "Anyone But England" (ABE) phenomenon, treating it as some sort of moral failing or psychological pathology on the part of the Scots.
This is a lazy consensus. It is also entirely wrong. For another look on this event, check out the recent coverage from CBS Sports.
The demand for Scottish solidarity is not a benign wish for neighborly harmony. It is an act of sporting entitlement. The truth is that Scottish rejection of England is not only entirely normal—it is the very engine that keeps the British footballing identity alive.
The Double Standard of "Solidarity"
Let’s dismantle the premise immediately. Football is built on tribalism. It is a simulated warfare of identity, geography, and history.
Yet, we are asked to believe that the Anglo-Scottish border should behave like a cozy community league.
Imagine a sports writer asking Real Madrid fans to support Barcelona in a Champions League final "for the good of Spanish football." Picture a journalist asking Boca Juniors fans to wave the flag for River Plate because "they are both from Buenos Aires." They would be laughed out of the press room.
Yet, when it comes to the UK, different rules supposedly apply.
- The Dutch do not root for Germany.
- The Argentinians do not cheer for Brazil.
- The Italians do not celebrate French victories.
None of these nations are subjected to agonizing national debates about their "bitterness" or "lack of class" when they celebrate a rival's downfall. They are simply allowed to be football fans.
The expectation that Scotland should suspend the oldest rivalry in international football to boost the ego of the English media is a demand for submission, dressed up as sportsmanship.
The Obsession is Coming From Inside the House
If you want to find the real obsession in this dynamic, do not look to the pubs of Glasgow. Look to the television studios of London.
The English media is desperately insecure. For all the talk of "Football coming home," there is a constant, underlying need for validation. This manifests as a pathological desire to be liked by the very people England defines itself against.
I have spent decades covering international tournaments, sitting in press boxes from Wembley to Hampden Park. The contrast in attitude is stark.
- Scottish fans view the rivalry with a mix of dark humor, self-deprecation, and pantomime villainy. They buy the opposition shirts because it is funny. It is cheap, harmless entertainment.
- The English press treats Scottish indifference as a personal insult. They analyze it with the gravity of a geopolitical crisis, desperate to extract a confession of admiration from their northern neighbors.
This is a classic codependent relationship. English football needs Scotland to play the role of the bitter, resentful observer because it validates England's self-image as the dominant, magnanimous partner. If Scotland suddenly started cheering for England, the drama would evaporate. The narrative would die.
The Myth of the "Bitter" Scot
The common narrative portrays the ABE mentality as a toxic, politically driven hatred. This is a massive misreading of the room.
For the vast majority of Scottish supporters, supporting "Anyone But England" is a lighthearted cultural ritual. It is about taking the wind out of a hype machine that is notoriously insufferable.
To understand why Scots do not want England to win, you have to listen to English broadcasting. A Scottish fan sitting down to watch a neutral match between England and, say, Colombia, is subjected to hours of speculative commentary about how "this squad compares to the heroes of 1966." Every England player is hyped as a generational talent. The arrogance is structural, built into the very fabric of the UK's centralized media.
Supporting the opposition is not about politics. It is a survival mechanism against twenty-four-hour media saturation.
"If England wins a tournament, we will never hear the end of it for fifty years. We are still hearing about 1966, and most of the people who saw it are no longer with us."
— Common refrain in every Scottish pub.
This is not bitterness. This is logical self-preservation.
The Argentina Litmus Test
Let’s address the ultimate battlefield of this debate: Argentina.
When England plays Argentina, the media expects Scotland to fall into line. Surely, they argue, the shared history and proximity of the British Isles should trump any sporting rivalry when facing a nation with whom the UK has had actual, military conflict.
This argument is incredibly patronizing. It attempts to weaponize real-world geopolitics to guilt-trip football fans into compliance.
In 1998, when David Beckham was sent off and England crashed out to Argentina on penalties, the celebrations in Scotland were legendary. This was not because Scots suddenly became passionate supporters of the Argentine junta or foreign policy. It was because they enjoyed the high drama of a footballing tragedy involving their biggest rivals.
[The Football Rivalry Spectrum]
Friendly Neighbor <------------------> Active Rivalry <------------------> Mutual Dislike
(Where the media (Where the relationship (The healthy reality of
wants the UK to sit) actually exists) international football)
By trying to police who Scottish fans support, the media tries to strip football of its emotional core. They want a sanitized, corporate version of fandom where everyone clap-claps for the home nations. It is boring. It is lifeless.
Rivalry is the Only Thing Saving the International Game
International football is under threat. The relentless expansion of the club game, the bloated tournament formats, and the rise of nation-state ownership have diluted the passion that once defined the sport.
In this sanitized landscape, genuine, historical rivalries are the last remaining bastions of raw, unfiltered football culture.
The Anglo-Scottish rivalry is the oldest in the world, dating back to 1872. It survived the collapse of the British Empire, the modernization of the stadium experience, and the commercialization of the Premier League. To suggest that we should dilute this rivalry for the sake of a warm, fuzzy feeling of "British togetherness" is sporting vandalism.
We should be protecting the hostility. We should be celebrating the fact that Scots will buy Argentina shirts, or German shirts, or Italian shirts just to see England fail. It means the game still matters. It means the history still carries weight.
Stop asking Scotland to grow up and support England. Stop analyzing their lack of support as a social disease. The day Scottish fans sit down to cheer on the Three Lions is the day the oldest, most passionate rivalry in football officially dies. And nobody, on either side of the border, should want to see that.
