Football: Train takes the strain

Phil Davison avoids running off the rails with the Scots and Moroccan fans

IT began on the 16.18 from the Gare de Lyon. The boys from Casablanca, draped in embroidered crimson capes and heading for the Scotland-Morocco game in St Etienne, discovered the bar wagon before the fans from Scotland.

The Absolut vodka and Kronenburg beer were flowing, the Moroccans chanting "Maghreb, Maghreb" in full voice, before the first scout from the tartan army, George Mitchell an oil contracts engineer from Aberdeen, tottered through the sliding door in search of "a wee bevvie".

Thus began a wild but amicable night of Scottish-Moroccan partying last Tuesday, interrupted only briefly by both sets of fans' disappointment at failing to reach the last 16. Unlike the Scots, the Moroccans, at least for a few seconds, believed they had qualified until the Norway-Brazil result swept across the terraces via bush telegraph.

Barely out of Paris, the train's bartender started by serving only those with exact change. George had only big notes. So Majid Slimani, a 24-year- old from Casablanca, bought him a beer. "We are Muslims. We have big faith. We pray. But we like to drink. The Koran just says don't pray when you're drunk."

Now packed to capacity and unilaterally declared a smoking zone despite the signs and the conductor's protests, the bar wagon rocked to the sounds of "Oh-way, oh-way, oh-way, oh-way, Bob Mar-ley, Bob Mar-ley." None of the Moroccans could really explain to me why that was their favourite chant. "I guess it's just a kind of international thing. Everybody loves Bob Marley," said Majid.

The Moroccans were running this wagon. George had had enough. "Can you hear th Moroccans sing? No-oh, no-oh," he yelled. "By the then he had the back-up of a few dozen fellow Scots, who belted out "Flower of Scotland" while the Moroccans got distracted by an internal dispute over which Casablanca team were the better - Rajah or Widad.

The party continued on special buses from St Etienne station to the Geoffroy-Guichard stadium, each carrying a Moroccan and a Scottish flag on its roof and all packed with both sets of singing and chanting fans. Paraphrasing a Scottish song whose chorus goes "Stand up, if you hate the English," Hassan Joundy, one of the boys from Salamanca, got both Moroccans and Scots singing "Stand up if you like hashish."

The few French fans on my bus looked first terrified, later bemused, then relieved when they realised there was not an ounce of tension in the air despite the mayhem. Outside the stadium, the Moroccans tried to dance the Highland Fling while the Scots tried to sway to the Moroccans' bongo drums.

Then came the big game and the big let-down. Down 3-0, the Scots had long since given up hope of qualifying. But the bush telegraph, which goes from the TV monitors in the press stand across to the first rows of fans and then around the terraces, said Brazil were 1-0 up against Norway - Morocco would qualify.

The final whistle blew in St Etienne, the Moroccan players embraced, their fans went wild, even the Scottish fans broke into chants of "Maroc, Maroc". Then the word spread. Norway had beaten Brazil with an injury- time penalty.

The Moroccan players slumped to the turf. Their fans stood in stunned silence. Then the tartan army broke the mood with: "Oh-way, oh-way, oh-way, Bob Mar-ley, Bob Mar-ley."