Scotland: Awful in Oslo?

We all know by now (and if you didn't you can thank me for saving you the pain of watching it), that Scotland were beaten comfortably last night. Well and truly humped. "Embarrassed", some have said. There will have been enough wailing, gnashing of teeth and over-the-top cries of anguish in this morning's newspapers, with calls for the head of our national manager no doubt the order of the day. That, however, will get us absolutely nowhere. So, without further ado, let me get onto the real staple diet of the Scottish football fan. Forget your pie 'n' bovril - I'm talking about blaming the ref.

It was almost inevitable that, somewhere along the line, last night's referee was going to make a decision or two that would prove decisive. This is not because all referees are terrible; it's not because referees want the game to be about them, and not the players (although some of them undeniably do); it is simply because yet again, FIFA have appointed a man from a mickey-mouse League to an important International match.

No matter how high up the FIFA list last night's official might be, no matter how many boxes he might tick on the FIFA assessor's clipboard, the fact is that a man who earned his stripes, and now earns a living, refereeing games in Luxembourg is not used to handling big matches and big players. This was shown in the way in which he allowed both Carew and Riise several fouls before eventually booking them - even letting Carew away with a blatant dive soon after his eventual yellow card had come - before booking Scotland's Gary Caldwell for his only two fouls of the game, less than a minute apart, and consequently showing him the red card that changed the game in Norway's favour. Consistency is all anyone can ask of a match official, and this was sorely lacking from the man in the middle last night.

Of course anyone can have an off day, but it seemed last night, as Craig Levein noted, that the referee was trying to balance things up by booking Caldwell for his first challenge, having already taken the names of three Norwegians. In basketball, we call that a "make-up call" - as in the referee has called a foul to atone for an earlier mistake. He gives one team a dodgy decision, and so fabricates a foul in their favour to even the score. Caldwell's two fouls, each taken on its own merits, likely warranted bookings. The same, though, could be said of Riise's first three fouls, yet he received only one yellow card, before smashing the ball into the Scottish net for Norway's first goal to compound our misery after Caldwell's dismissal.

Had the referee been consistent in his application of the rules, two things could have happened. Firstly, he might have sent both Carew and Riise from the field before Caldwell received his first caution, had he applied the same rules to their indiscretions as he did to the Scottish defender. The other possibility is that the leniency the official demonstrated in his dealings with the Norwegians could have been extended to Gary Caldwell, allowing him to stay on the park, and Scotland to continue the dominance that had characterised the first third of the match.

It is not, though, fair to pile all of the blame for last night's horror show at the feet of the referee. He might have sent Caldwell from the field, but it was Caldwell himself who got into a battle of strength with John Carew, allowed the big striker to turn, exposing Caldwell's lack of mobility and pace, before the Celtic defender grabbed a fistful of red-shirt, and pulled Carew back. Whether Carew had a grip of Caldwell's shirt is immaterial - forwards get away with things like that; hence the term "striker's challenge" - but for a defender, pulling the jersey is a bookable offence nine-and-a-half times out of ten.

Caldwell might have been unlucky, he might not. The only thing that matters is that he was sent off, and, with him, went all chances Scotland had of getting something from that game. Despite my complaints about the referee, and his decision to send Caldwell off, the thing that was most worrying was the way in which the Scottish team collapsed thereafter.

The man charged with organising the best players our country has been able to produce did not have his finest day yesterday. Things were not looking good even before kick-off, when the words "Graeme" and "Alexander" appeared together in the centre of the Scottish midfield. Taken separately, those two words do not appear threatening, but, when combined, they produce an abominable aberration of an idiot, now conveniently sporting a girly headband so as to identify himself to the opposition as the least capable man on the park. Previous Scotland managers have had the sense to keep Alexander out of the way - right back, perhaps; left back in a crunch; but, ideally, left out. Burley plonked Alexander right in the middle of the park, where he could do the most damage. Things were not looking good at this point, and they were not to get any better. A glance to the left of Alexander was almost, but not quite, as spine-chilling: Chris Commons. A further glance to the right wing: Ross McCormack. Had this been a FIFA "Let's see how many wee chubby guys we can get on the park" Cup Qualifier, we'd have been onto a winner. Sadly, this was not the case, and we were left to confront a side boasting a 6ft 5 inch centre back, and a 6ft 4 inch centre forward, with two men who can only be described as Pygmies in our line up, in a hugely important FIFA World Cup Qualifier. Fantastic.

Perhaps these criticisms are unfair. Perhaps Burley's hands are tied by the limitations of the players available to him. Then again, perhaps he should not have allowed his players to go drinking after the game in Holland, and prevented the "Boozegate" scandal from taking place. Perhaps he should have found a way to get on with Kris Boyd, who, despite being a Rangers player, and hence having sold his soul to David "El Diablo" Murray, is the best goal-scorer we have in Scotland. Perhaps it is Burley himself who has cost Scotland the services of three players who surely would have been in, and strengthened, last night's Scotland team in vital areas.

A manager earns his money, particularly in International football, through his ability to motivate and organise the players at his disposal. He does not have enough time with them to work on their skills or their abilities - he must simply mould someone else's players into an effective team. Last night, the Scottish team were flat from the moment Caldwell left the pitch, and descended into a disorganised mess thereafter. 2-0 down at half-time, with 10 men on the park, and Burley, it seems, does nothing during the interval. Injuries mean that the Scots end up with a back four comprised of three right backs and a left back in Calum Davidson who has been in the International wilderness for something close to seven hundred years, and this eventually leads to the Norwegians notching two further goals, with one Carew effort, which replays have shown to be over the line, not given, in a belated "make-up call" incident on the part of the Officials.

Burley has been quoted as saying that everything that could have "went" wrong last night, did go wrong. He's not wrong there. The worrying thing was that he seemed powerless to stop it, to exert any control over his players, or to inject any passion into them or their performance. Last night, a game that began very promisingly for the Scots turned into an immensely damaging result, in terms of our hopes of earning a play-off spot in our group, and in terms of the confidence of the side going into two vital matches against two sides who have already defeated us: the mighty Dutch, and the mighty, erm...Macedonia at Hampden Park.

We have a battle on our hands to reach the coveted play-off spot for next year's World Cup, but at least if there are yet more embarrassing defeats along the way, the Tartan Army will be able to get a pint for less than £8 after the game.