And so I found myself sitting on the stadium bench, more precisely in the die-hard fans’ sector.
In front of me, the rugby national team was somehow banked up with the Scottish guys.
On my right side, a brass band was playing O Sole Mio from the top of the bleachers; on my left, several men wearing kilt were piping Flower of Scotland on very picturesque bagpipes.
After an inner match, I somehow allowed the over-demanding me to have a rest and I simply enjoyed that hot-dog and that beer while looking at those guys running: I had no clue of where the game was heading, but still…
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