The city of Boston is in the midst of a benevolent invasion of gregarious, kilted visitors, who smell vaguely of pale lager and speak a lyrical language that, as it turns out, is English.
The Tartan Army — thousands of soccer fans from Scotland, here to see their national team play outside Boston in two matches of the World Cup — are packing this old city’s narrow streets, its subway cars, restaurants and pubs, and filling the air with the cry of bagpipes. The Scots are bursting out of historic Faneuil Hall, and the less historic but maybe more famous Cheers bar.
They have put a serious dent in the region’s strategic beer reserves, and have become social media darlings, as they gently prank their hosts by dunce-capping statues with traffic cones.
On Sunday, they marched en masse to Scottish heritage night at Fenway Park, electrifying a ho-hum midseason matchup between the Boston Red Sox and the Texas Rangers.
At the game, they sang their way into all-time Red Sox lore with a full-hearted rendition of “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles),” the ’80s hit by the Scottish duo the Proclaimers.
Across a city where residents are known as provincial and proudly skilled in the art of gripe, the locals have been thoroughly charmed by the joyful Scottish occupation.
The question on many sets of lips: How do we get the Scots to stay?
“The peaceful invasion of the Tartan Army has made Boston the top World Cup host city,” boasted Boston Mayor Michelle Wu in an interview. “There is nowhere you can go in the city right now without seeing someone in a kilt. It has been absolutely delightful.”
Scotland’s national team is making its first appearance at the World Cup tournament in nearly 30 years. The team beat Haiti in a 1-0 thriller on June 13 in Gillette Stadium, 30 miles outside the city. (The venue has, nevertheless, been rechristened “Boston Stadium” for the tournament.) The Scottish team plays Morocco in Boston on Friday, before the team, and its fans, muster in Miami to play Brazil.
Cameron Caswell, 23, of Oxton, Scotland, spent the off-day on Tuesday in Boston, day-drinking Tennent’s Lager and watching tournament games on television at the Haven, a Scottish bar in the Jamaica Plain neighborhood. (The Haven’s owner, Jason Waddleton, reported that the Tartan Army had defeated 65 kegs in six days.)
Mr. Caswell was concerned before traveling to his first World Cup that Americans were not known as passionate soccer fans. “But you have embraced it,” he said, “and Boston has been so welcoming to us.”
He loved how the Scots and the locals all mingled together — along with some Norwegians, too, who are here following their team. He was impressed that, though some bars reported running dry, the city of Boston had not yet run out of beer, perhaps because, he theorized, of its long experience celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
In praise of his American hosts, he proclaimed: “Anyone who can beat the English is a friend of Scotland.” He was referring not to soccer, in which England’s team is highly regarded, but to the Revolutionary War.
Mr. Caswell and his mate Marc Breen, a 47-year-old Scottish fan from Motherwell, a town outside Glasgow, said they had spent the interval in Boston between games drinking beer (duh!), resting, and appreciating the local architecture. More friends from Scotland were joining them soon.
“We’re recharging our social batteries, before reinforcements arrive,” Mr. Breen said.
“Had my first Taco Bell today,” Mr. Caswell volunteered. He paused to choose the right adjective, before going with: “Unique.”
Mr. Caswell, a software engineer, said his trip to the United States had cost him about 6,500 pounds, roughly $9,000. He said he had packed two pairs of shorts, one kilt and 35 Scotland soccer tops.
“I packed one Croatia top,” he said, “because they play England.”
“Good lad,” came a voice from a nearby table.
As the afternoon wore on, and the beer continued to flow, a sense of seriousness descended, and the men confessed that this whole pricey trip to the World Cup was not really about soccer at all.
Following a team with your whole heart “is an escape from everything going on in your personal life,” Mr. Caswell explained. “It’s where you meet your mates. Half the people in my life I have met through football.”
Mr. Breen agreed: “For two weeks, you’re on Tartan Army time.”
On Wednesday, the party ticked back up a notch for the Scots in Boston, with England on the TV for its match against Croatia.
Kilted fans spilled out of the White Bull Tavern downtown, swarmed televisions showing the game, and occasionally broke out as a group into spontaneous song, the way birds in a flock all manage to turn at the same time.
Nearby, the statue of former Boston Mayor James Michael Curley stood sentinel with a traffic cone over its head.
The post Boston Is Full of Joy and Low on Beer. Blame the Scots. appeared first on New York Times.
