It’s not that Scottish football isn’t European, it is. However, only geographically. There is a quintessentially Scottish way of playing football, far more in common with an English style than French or German. Despite our illustrious history in the formation, codification and spread of football globally, our game is a bit like our cuisine in that it quite clearly exists, but is far less refined than our European counterparts.
This can be a problem, because a lack of identity, in this case through football, leaves a void filled with managers, coaches and pundits grasping for meaning in the hope of leaving their mark on something, without actually having the ideological tools to do it. Why this variation in how pronounced each nation’s national style of football arises amounts to a complicated historical exploration into the evolution of the game around Europe with various links to political movements and government philosophies of their respective time and place. As invisible a notion as it may sound, it is something tangible in our game. If you don’t believe that, then try to extol the virtues of our own national footballing characteristics the same way you could of the Italians or Dutch.
With Scotland’s historic inclusion in the Euros this year, the country’s first major tournament since France 98, it raises the question again of what a ‘Scottish’ brand of football really means, a concept further muddied by the extent of Scottish players in the squad plying their trade outside of their home country. That it may not be as easily articulated as a ‘Dutch style’ doesn’t mean that there aren’t particular traits in Scottish football though. There definitely are.
This have been eras when there was a distinguishable ‘Scottish’ way to play. A tough game, physical, requiring an abundance of pre-analytical concepts like ‘grit’. Scottish football is still measured against these kinds of ideas, both internationally and domestically. When speaking of the latter, we remember particular clubs whose style became a hybrid of the native way of playing and the Europeans plying their trade, offering flourishes less frequent in our beloved Alba.
The Hibernian team has gone through periods of being defined both by who manages them and who plays for them. Under Tony Mowbray, the Scottish footballing press came to brand his team the ‘Green Brazil’. Whilst flattering, it was a clear nod not to our own ‘Scottish style’, but to the distinctive free-flowing attacking play that we expect from the South American side, so different as to require a reflective label.
Players from around the world have helped to define various Hibs teams over the years, having had clusters from particular countries and, by extension, embracing these styles and attitudes, something quite otherworldly under the frozen spotlit nights at Easter Road, hands warmed by Bovril and hearts warmed by a Paco Luna flick or a darting Russell Latapy drive.
Of them all, Franck Sauzée has been the most iconic Hibs player of the last several decades. To many fans, the most iconic ever. He hasn’t been the only Frenchman playing for the capital city side though. In the span of only a few years, between 2000 and 2004, there was David Zitelli, Guillaume Beuzelin, Frédéric Arpinon, Yannick Zambernardi and brief spells from Didier Agathe and Marc Libbra. Each player left an impact in their own way, with Beuzy helping the club to the 2007 League Cup and Zitelli providing firepower for the strong third-place finish in the 2000/01 campaign.
Beyond the numbers, though, was the experience of watching them. Hot on the tail of Celtic at the time, after a monumental start to the season, Hibs came up against a strong Dundee side in 2000. Heading towards the final whistle with one goal a piece, it was a match where chances were squandered, where ordinary wouldn’t cut it. Then, a quick flash of acrobatic majesty from Zitelli, whose perfectly curated an overhead kick from a poorly-cleared Russell Latapy corner found its way into the top bin, putting the side a valuable goal ahead and ended up being one of the most spectacular goals of the season.
His partner-in-crime up top that season was the burly Finn Mixu Paatelainen, so prolific that he found the net in a third of the games he played for the club over two spells. Joined by his fellow countryman Jarkko Wiss in the second spell, a solid holding midfielder whose combative style endeared himself to the Scottish fans, a far cry from the aforementioned’s Gallic flair of the Frenchman, Hibs found themselves with a particularly Finnish flavour.
Throughout this period of football, the early years of the Millenium, one particular foreign national is fondly remembered for his service to the club - the solid Leipzig-born Mathias Jack. Employed as a prototypical tough player, he was an expert at breaking up play, reliable and methodical. He was, at least to us, a typically German player. Another German national, this time at the other end of the field, managed to paradoxically be the exact opposite of Jack whilst maintaining a palpable sense of ‘German-ness’.
Signing from Fulham and known for his ‘porn-star’ moustache, Dirk ‘Dirty Dirk’ Lehmann refused to take his jewellery off (on the football field) and encapsulated eccentricity. Also known by the slightly mischievous nickname Dirk Diggler, his character immediately drew the Edinburgh faithful to him. That and his debut brace against Motherwell. Like Darren Jackson turning out in goals for the club or the needlessly baggy shirts of the time, football players with tape on their ears seems like something consigned to 90s and early 00s football. He experienced a mixture of highs and lows at the club, but brought something of an edge to the side at times and, moreover, was a personality who is still fondly remembered by fans today.
More recently, we were treated to the dynamic duo of the two Moroccans. Abdessalam Benjeloun, shortened to Benji and Merouane Zemmama, whose surname was lengthened to include the most Scottish of suffixes - ‘Wee’. Although Benji might be best remembered for his double in the 2007 League Cup final, or his wild celebration after an off-the-bench winner against Hearts and Zemmama for being a midfield maestro full of grace, guile and trickery (or the Ooo Zemmama song that often rung out throughout the stands), it’s impossible to think of the pair’s impact without thinking of their chemistry together.
A pure number 10, Zemmama’s vision for passes enabled him to link up with Benji, who often took on a free-roaming role, not quite set as an out-and-out striker, but part of a chain of attack that ended with Steven Fletcher. ‘Spice’ metaphors notwithstanding, the Moroccan duo lit up Easter Road, complimenting the homegrown talent with a sense of energy that provided the exciting to their solid, some chaos in amongst the order. Where future Scottish stars like Scott Brown commanded the middle of the park, Benji and Zemmama had their fun up top.
Testament to their impact could be summed up by the appearance of a couple of Moroccan flags in the shed, often held near the halfway line - a way to show that these players who were far away from home, were in many ways, not that far from home at all. It wasn’t just the way they played that brought something different, but their choice of faith and lifestyle. Before matches, eyes closed and palm turned upwards to the sky they’d pray. At the time, I’d no idea what they were doing or why, until my dad explained it to me. I also didn’t understand when there would be a period when they were either absent or appeared as substitutes when, to my knowledge, they were fully fit. It was Ramadan, my dad said, a period of fasting.
Years later, I ended up in Casablanca for a couple of days and, in a hotel off the tourist trail, found it nigh impossible to talk with the owner given his lack of English and my lack of Arabic. So, as I imagine many people resort to doing, I thought of what linked us in terms of football and remembered that both the Moroccans had played for Raja Casablanca and, although Benji was a fleeting presence there, Zemmama was fondly remembered in a similar way to his time at Easter Road.
Breakfast, it turned out that day, was a long one spent with our phones on the table trying to find what footage we could on YouTube of the diminutive playmaker at our respective sides. The injection of culture at Hibs had gone well beyond the field this time and, actually, had come in handy as an ice-breaker.
This bridging of cultures is no coincidence either. The cultivation of a varied and complimentary squad has been a part of the Hibernian philosophy for a long time, with the side featuring over 50 different nationalities in its history. On the one hand, there’s the development of youth through the academy (https://www.hibernianfc.co.uk/article/the-boot-room-the-golden-generation), but there’s also the eye on continental football, of bringing in players that can offer flair to an otherwise fairly straightforward Scottish way of playing. This sort of football can be seen as an extension of the people. We’re straight to the point. We shoot from the hip. In our football, this national psyche translates as a game free of pomp and splendour, yet full of heart.
It’s these traits that have seen Scotland progress into the Euros and the same traits that Hibernian have relied on as a backbone of their side for almost 150 years. Still, there’s always a place for something else, something with a bit of verve. Whilst foreign flair doesn’t always translate to the most successful squads at Hibs, they’ve definitely been an integral part of the most exciting ones.
By Edd Norval
Twitter @EddNorval
