Sixty seconds. That is how long Scotland kept their World Cup dream intact in Boston before Morocco reached into the oldest Scottish tradition there is and switched off the lights. An opening-minute goal is a gut punch in any game, but against Scotland it lands like a sequel nobody asked for, because everyone in tartan has seen this film and they still bought a ticket.

To their credit, Scotland did not collapse. They huffed, they pressed, they won corners, they did everything except the one thing that pays, which is putting the ball in the net. Morocco, meanwhile, defended with a calm that bordered on insulting, soaking up the pressure and breaking like they had somewhere better to be. This was a team managing a game, and a team managing their own grief.

Morocco are the real story here, a genuinely excellent side who controlled the night from the first whistle and barely broke a sweat. But the lasting image is the away end, belting out songs long after the result was settled, because supporting Scotland is less a hobby and more a sentence served with a smile.