Yes, ultimately the honours may have been even. But only one of these two sides left Faro airport last night with expectation levels soaring.
And let’s put it this way, it wasn’t Frank de Boer’s. Suffice to say, if this was a little taster of what Steve Clarke and his players plan to serve up this summer then Scotland ’s appetite for Euro 2020 can now be considered well and truly whetted.
That Clarke was able to leave seven players back at base camp in Spain and still field such a talented starting XI says agreat deal about how far this group has come over the last couple of years.
The wisdom in asking them to travel through four different countries in the space of a few days during a global pandemic? That’s another matter altogether. But here they were in any case, depleted in numbers by a covid code red but squaring up to the Dutch in the sun-kissed Algarve.
Clarke’s options may have been fewer than he had planned but his selection still excited.
Veteran shot-stopper Craig Gordon back between the sticks.
Kieran Tierney in his bespoke position at the back, Andy Robertson to his left, fit again James Forrest running the right flank. Southampton’s Stuart Armstrong given a chance to shine in midfield – with Scott McTominay and Billy Gilmour on the bench after joining up late from Manchester United and Chelsea’s European exploits.
If Clarke is more comfortable damping down the nation’s expectations, then the very look of this late, enforced reshuffle must have made the manager feel all kinds of awkward.
The job of managing Scotland on the international stage is supposed to be the sporting equivalent of polishing turds. Clarke’s task these days smells a great deal more attractive.
But even so, the speed with which his players came surging out of the traps against the Dutch might have come as a surprise to Clarke himself.
Forrest’s motor was running before Holland had even got their seat-belts on and as soon as he raced at them for the first time, in the opening seconds, the tempo was set. Clarke’s players pressed and harried and chased down anything in an orange shirt, hemming them deeper into their own half than de Boer could have possibly anticipated.
If Holland had turned up for a light loosener they suddenly realised Scotland wanted to give them a match.
And moments after Tierney had come within a few inches of rocketing home an early opener from distance, they found themselves behind.
Again, they were rumbled and then turned over while trying to play out casually from the back.
And when Armstrong picked a couple of their pockets, Jack Hendry stepped out from the back to fire a low shot away from Tim Krul and in at the keeper’s bottom right-hand corner.
Occasionally Callum McGregor, Armstrong or David Turnbull would be rushed into a careless pass to give away possession in midfield. But not often enough to make it a serious worry. Up top, Lyndon Dykes was busy doing what he’s been doing ever since deciding to pull on a Scotland shirt, winning headers, holding the ball up on his chest and linking smartly with his team-mates to get his side up the pitch.
And at the back, Clarke’s three-man defence was on its toes and alive to danger, with Leeds skipper Liam Cooper marshalling things impressively from the middle and Tierney driving forward and causing danger whenever a gap opened up in front of him.
The one time Scotland’s last line did switch off they were reminded exactly why they must not make a habit of it in the coming weeks, as Gini Wijnaldum’s cushioned header dropped onto Memphis Depay’s boot and a volley was despatched high into the roof of Gordon’s net. Lesson learned.
But even despite this sloppy setback Clarke’s players made it inside on level terms at the break and with self confidence soaring on the back of 45 minutes that were a great deal more than adequate.
It was a similar story in the second half too until the hour when Clarke rang the changes to get minutes into legs. And then it got even better.
The break out from the back at pace and with numbers, the weighted accuracy of Ryan Christie’s probe, the breakneck determination of Robertson at full gallop and the exquisite first touch of sub Kevin Nisbet who tucked his big chance away at the back post as if he was doing it in a training session.
This was all too much for the crestfallen match commentator on Dutch TV who in the heat of his confusion shouted: “This is incredible! Scotland have scored twice in one match! And we’ve got Matthijs de Ligt in our defence!”
Had Turnbull made it 3-1 moments later rather than curl a shot inches over the top there could have been the ultimate mic drop.
Depay’s late leveller will have made him feel a bit better. That it came from a free-kick which should never have been awarded to the Dutch – one of many for that matter – will have come as little consequence. This was Scotland’s night. If we didn’t know better we might even conclude it could be Scotland’s summer.
The truth is, we all know what’s coming next. That nauseous feeling in the pit of the stomach. The agony that comes with being Scottish every time we go somewhere nicer than we probably should.
It’s been a while right enough but old habits die hard and our table manners are traditionally terrible.
But talk about whetting the appetite? Let’s get ready for the feast.
