Ne Ne Esi Oreo!! Which is Greek for Yes! Ya Beauty! Well, more or less

If you've never been to a World Cup before, especially if you're a Scottish supporter (or an English one, ha-ha, it gets better) you probably think the football is kind of secondary.

Having a good time is the number one priority, an aspiration that isn't hard to achieve, especially here in Fortaleza, a beachside city renowned for its bohemian scene and intellectual vibe.

Like Byres Road with sand, you might say.

My girlfriend Koula and I have loved it here - great bars, kicking nightlife, fantastic food - especially the Tapioca, similar to a piece and jam but with fillings such as coconut and banana, much tastier, if such a thing is possible.

But now, here at the game last night against Cote D'Ivoire, everything changes. Forget the food. Forget the booze. Despite being rank rotten in their first game; resolutely but unimaginatively defensive in the second, Greece suddenly have a window of opportunity.

A win here, against Didier Drogba's side (Drogba, ha!) and we're through, unless Japan beat Columbia.

A few buts and maybes sure, but enough to give us - like it: us? - a fighting chance.

And fight we do. This is a different Greece from the one we've seen in the last 2 games, playing faster and harder; solid at the back and genuinely threatening up front.

You know something? We could do this. I share this thought with our new mates Spyros and Soc, not to mention Des my Aussie buddy who's joined us here hotfoot from Australia's sad demise.

See what I mean? Can it get any better? The Aussies got their bums felt. I tell you, the stars are aligned.

And then we score. A mistake from the Cote D'Ivoire and Samaris (not our Bhoy Yorgos but a bloke who came on as a sub with a similar name) buries it.

YES! I mean - NE! GOAL! GOAL!

And of course, as in every other footie language, goal in Greek is GOAL!

The second half is unbearably tense but we're growing in confidence and look well up for the challenge. Now it's all about the atmosphere: suddenly, undeniably, it's game on, football, what the World Cup is really all about.

Bouncing about in the crowd, kicking every ball, defending our lead, hoping for a breakaway, every second being slowly, interminably counted down.

People talk about boring football and often it is. This is anything but. The word from the Columbia game is positive - we win this, we're through to the next round. Against - someone - no one's quite sure who - or where the game'll be. Who cares - anyway the game's not over and you never count your chickens etc etc… anything could still happen.

And then. And then. Ah, how Scottish is that? One quick move, a bit of slack marking and Cote D'Ivoire score. 1-1. As it stands we're out.

We're gutted but there's still 20 minutes to go. And we have a go. We hit the post, win a couple of corners with everyone up, the ball bounces around the penalty box but, no, it comes to nothing.

Injury time.

A bit of a stramash, as dear old Arthur Montford was wont to say, and PENALTY! Our Bhoy Yorgos goes down in the box - a bit too easily, the non-committed might say, but not me.

That was a stonewaller, no question. Ne, ne ne!

He's going to take it himself. Big Sammi who hasn't done much so far except fall down and look moody has the weight of the entire nation on his Freddy Mercury-ish shoulders.

It seems to take an age as he lines it up. But… NE! NE! NE! GOALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!

It all goes a bit mental. We're dancing around hugging and kissing strangers like a good night at the Savoy Discotheque in Glasgow circa 1987.GOAL!!!!!!

Suddenly, it dawns on us. It's injury time. Hold out and we're through. Ne! THIS IS FOOTBALL!

The final whistle. I'm not a Greek obviously. Two weeks ago, apart from Sammi I couldn't name any of the players, wasn't even sure what colour strip they wear. But now, I'm as Greek as Dolmades, don't worry about that, mate.

As we stream out of the stadium in that haze of elation only football can give you, we start to search for information about the next game. We want to celebrate and we will, but right now, we're basking in the ecstasy. Enjoy the moment. Lap it up. This is football.

We'll play Costa Rica next - in Recife, wherever that is - we'll probably get gubbed but who cares.

We're in it. We're there.