When Iran equalised against Scotland in the 1978 World Cup at Argentina you could almost feel a dagger going through the hearts of the Scots contingent of my family in the living room.
To put it in context, charismatic manager Ally MacLeod had almost the whole of Scotland believing they could, nay would, win the World Cup that year. Not without foundation though.
Up front was perhaps the best striker in Europe, Kenny Dalglish, who formed a formidable partnership with Joe Jordan, whom AC Milan supporters dubbed Atilla during his time there.
In midfield was the wily skills of Asa Hartford and John Robertson, who was instrumental in Forest becoming champions that year. At the back was the imposing presence of Kenny Burns, a fellow title winner and PFA Player Of The Year.
With the likes of Graeme Souness sitting it out on the bench, and having knocked out European champions Czechoslovakia in their qualifying group, Scotland were extremely and rightly confident.
As for the opposition, Scotland had produced good results and performances against Brazil and Argentina in a summer tour the year before, defending champons West Germany were in an undeniable decline, Holland appeared to be in disarray after Johan Cruyff's exclusion, France looked very naive, and Italy tough but predictable.
Prior to the tournament, and especially after their unbeaten run in the 1974 Finals, it looked like that Scotland would have a strong tournament and, amazing as it seems, were talked about as THE dark horses to lift the Cup, not only in Scotland but across the globe.
It all began to unravel on the third day. A group match against unconsidered Peru appeared to be going to plan at first, 1-0 up after 15 minutes and looking likely to add to that sooner rather than later. Scotland made the fatal mistake, however, of relaxing. Peru were a fine side, South American champions, and won 3-1, although if Don Masson had scored his penalty with the match poised at 1-1, it would have been so different.
Consensus was, however, not that Scotland played poorly, but were beaten by a genuinely good side in a decent match. It was a shock, no doubt, but by no means irretrievable. A confidence boosting romp against no hopers Iran four days later would get them back on track.
Then, however, it began to fall apart. For some reason, rather than a random drug testing, Argentinian officials insisted on making Willie Johnston test. Subsequently, at a later testing, it was found that Argentina's Mario Kempes was pregnant, although no action was taken.
Johnston, a canny winger for Rangers and WBA, who had tormented Argentina in their last meeting, had been taking a cold remedy, Reactivan, sold freely over the counter in chemists throughout the UK. In it, though, was a banned substance. Johnston was sent home. The squad were rocked. The world's press circled like vultures.
For the squad and MacLeod it was almost a relief to be on the pitch, it what was now becoming a highly pressured situation, as it was the only place they were free from the media and other divisive outside influences. Ally kept faith in the side that were defeated in their first match, figuring that a good team doesn't become a bad one overnight, especially as they hadn't actually played that badly.
He was wrong. In front of less than 8,000 souls, almost all congregated behind either goal beyoind an athletics track (giving a surreal tv image of an empty stadium), Scotland were dreadful against willing but extremely limited opponents. Passes went astray, heads dropped or began to shake.
A moment of relief on the stroke of half time though. Without doubt the most comical goal I've ever seen. A long aimless Scottish punt was being shepherded back to the Iranian keeper on the edge of the area. Then, for no apparent reason, the centre half clattered into the keeper, and as the custodian tried to desperately grab the ball, the defender proceed to volley the ball into his own net. The Scots didn't even celebrate, relieved and amazed.
At last, we thought, an outrageous stroke of fortune would turn it all round. We waited for the Scotland second half onslaught. In vain, though, as Iran sensed the state of mind their opponents were in and began to fancy their chances. They ran at their bedraggled opponents.
Then it happened. A run on the Iranian left inside the penalty area, of all people Archie Gemmell embarrassingly skinned, but the only option was a near post shot. Alan Rough, though, inexplicably veered away from his near post, anticipating a pass into the six yard box, and could only look on in despair as his elementary mistake was punished with an equalising goal.
You could have heard a pin drop in Chez Groyne, with half the household fervent Scots and the rest, although not exactly supporting Scotland, taking an interest. I'll never forget that eerie silence, which seemed to even block out the sound of Hugh Johns desrcibing the unfolding and unthinkable disaster. Nobody dared say anything. It was almost like being at a funeral wake. It's something that stays with me to this very day.
Then came what nobody in any profession wants - sympathy. There on the screen, as the minutes ticked by and Iran looked for a winner, was Ally MacLeod. Totally helpless as the team he fashioned, a side that had vanquished all before them prior to the World Cup, a side that was rightly given serious consideration for honours, had vanished into thin air, apparently replaced by a Partick Thistle Veterans Reserve XI.
TV pictures cruelly captured the momet when, after shouting in frustration, he buried his head in his hands. An iconic image for all the wrong reasons. Even at the tender age of 11, I felt for the guy, I wished I could just put my arm around his shoulder and say it wasn't his fault. Potential champion to a schoolkid feeling sorry for him. It doesn't get much worse really.
The match finished 1-1, the only sound being heard that of a hail of abuse coming from the small pocket of Scots fans in attendance. A truly gruseome chapter in World Cup history had been indeliably written into the hearts and minds of those north of the border.
If truth be told they've never recovered. Every tournament since, it's been a case of 'we know our place, let's just try not to embarrass ourselves'. Never have they ever gone into a Finals again talking up their chances. This is a real shame as a World Cup really is a time to dream, to hope, to think 'Yes, it COULD be us'.
I don't think anybody truly realises what a difference just a single, solitary goal can ever make. Unless, of course, you happened to be in Cordoba during the winter of '78.
