It’s the hope that kills you. At half-time in Scotland’s clash with the auld enemy England on Saturday evening, not only would I have taken a draw, I might have taken an anthrax pill had it been offered such was the direness of the spectacle on display.

And after that pulsating climax to the game, when Leigh Griffiths came within a whisker of attaining the status of all-time Scottish football great, I might have been tempted to reach for one again to put me out of the misery that following Scotland inflicts upon the soul.

Perhaps only Bruce Lee could take a gut punch like the Tartan Army. Even in the relatively recent past, from the inexplicable last-minute free-kick awarded to Italy that handed them victory at Hampden in 2007, to Robert Lewandowski’s scrambled last-gasp equaliser that left us as the only home nation not to make Euro 2016, this country’s supporters have got so used to being kicked in the knackers that what lurks beneath their kilts has become like rhino hide.

Read more: Leigh Griffiths will come back to Celtic ready to fight for Champions League place, says Kieran TierneyGlasgow Times: Robbed: Leigh Griffiths was denied a place among the all-time Scottish greats by the slackness of his teammates in stoppage time.

But this, this was hard to take for even the most grizzled, wearily fatalistic footsoldier. As Harry Kane slammed the ball in at Craig Gordon’s near-post, almost 50,000 Scots and millions more around the world were at once Ewan McGregor in that famous scene in Trainspotting, reaching into their souls and exclaiming expletives to the heavens about this affliction of Scottishness that has been forced upon us.

There’s a great tweet doing the rounds at the minute that explains patter as a private joke that six million folk just happen to be in on, and that extends to supporting the nation’s football team, as all around me at Hampden knowing glances of resignation were exchanged with a look that said: ‘Aye, I know pal, I know.’

But the trap is to think about all of our seeming misfortune on the football field as something that is purely down to lady luck having a grudge against our little country.

As harsh as the circumstances were as a real ‘I was there’ moment was snatched from our grasp, the source of our ultimate failure, as in the previous examples I mentioned here too, can regrettably be traced back to defensive ineptitude.

Read more: Leigh Griffiths will come back to Celtic ready to fight for Champions League place, says Kieran Tierney

In the Italy game a decade ago, yes, the decision by Spanish referee Manuel Enrique Mejuto Gonzalez to award a free-kick against Alan Hutton despite the right-back being fouled was bizarre and infuriating, but we still then allowed Christian Panucci a free header to puncture our dreams.

And in the Poland game, it was a needless late free-kick conceded in a dangerous area that again, we failed to defend, that ultimately cost us a shot at joining the party in France.

And yesterday, we showed that we haven’t learned a thing from our mistakes. Again, we gave away a needless foul as Christophe Berra clambered all over Harry Kane.

Then, as the ball broke to Stuart Armstrong after Craig Gordon repelled Eric Dier’s attempt from the dead ball, he had the chance to play in Griffiths on the break, or indeed, hump the ball into row Z. Heck, anything would have been preferable to presenting the ball to Kyle Naughton.

Even then, as the ball was fed wide to Raheem Sterling, Scotland continued to contribute to their own downfall, with Charlie Mulgrew and Andy Robertson failing to spot that one of the world’s deadliest strikers was sauntering in-between them to get free at the back post.

Read more: Leigh Griffiths will come back to Celtic ready to fight for Champions League place, says Kieran Tierney

Gordon too hardly covered himself in glory, as the ball travelled fully 40 yards in the air and was met by Kane inside the six-yard box with the Scotland goalie rooted to his line. And that’s what makes these moments of despair all the more frustrating, that they could be avoided.

The desperately unfortunate Griffiths, a man who we should be talking about today as a national hero, slouched his way into the mixed zone after the match with his man-of-the-match champagne tucked under his arm.

A journalist asked him: “What will you do with your bottle of champagne Leigh?” “Right now,” replied the Celtic striker, “I feel like smashing it off my f****** head.”

I hear you wee man, I hear you.