On a humid summer evening in southern Florida, Cupid's arrows were flying faster than a Hank Aaron swing in the unlikely romantic setting of the third-floor concourse of LoanDepot Park, somewhere near the fried chicken stall.
One lady held a sign at her target audience as they engulfed her. "Looking for a Scot" was the simple message etched next to a saltire and a Cuban flag with a kiss. It worked instantly: she snagged a cuddle off a passing and opportunistic Tartan Army foot soldier—though whether he remembers it until he reads this is another thing.
“Scotland fans find romance and Billy Gilmour throws first pitch at Miami Marlins game during World Cup.”
While not everyone in the US has gone to the trouble of scrawling their love for the Tartan Army on cardboard, the warmth towards the invading Scots during this World Cup burns hotter than the searing Florida sun. Here, it was another city, another ball game featuring the Texas Rangers, another invasion and another iconic night of rampant revelry.
Years of relentless school games of rounders are being put to extremely good use by the Scotland support, who bounced into their second ball game in a little over a week. This time the iconic and antique bleachers of Fenway Park in Boston were swapped for this domed colosseum in the heart of downtown Miami.
Outside, Nick Morgan played his anthem "No Scotland No Party" on stage to thousands of Scots in a blurry sea of bedlam and perspiration. Inside, the star of the mercifully air-conditioned show wasn't giant mascot Billy the Marlin. It was wee Billy the Scot.
The Tartan Army, who helped swell the crowd to 20,008—the biggest Monday night gathering under this roof since 2017—rose to their feet pre-match as Billy Gilmour emerged from the side of the field. With a brace around his knee and a Marlins top around his chest, the injured Scotland and Napoli midfielder slowly hobbled to the mound, took his time, then hurled the ceremonial first pitch. It was met with the gusto and celebration normally reserved for a statue being crowned with an orange traffic cone. Oor Billy grinned from ear to ear as he waved back to the crowd before hobbling back off.
A cynic would say this is an opportunity to cash in on a captive audience rolling into town after seeing the Fenway love-in. And yes, there's an undoubted benefit to the footfall and the beer sales which flow with it. But the warmth towards the Tartan Army burns hotter than the Florida sun, and if love can be found near a fried chicken stall in Miami, perhaps anything is possible.