How Hearts' final day Scottish Premiership heartbreak unfolded in Gorgie
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How Hearts title bid unfolded in the Tynecastle Arms
It was early on Saturday morning but the streets and pubs of Gorgie were already packed.
The pubs which opened at 10am were full by 10.01am. Everywhere you looked was a stream of maroon and white, and if you could bottle and drink the hope that was in the air you would be an eternal optimist.
Nearby, the Caledonian Brewery filled the air of the west of Edinburgh with the mealy smell of the malt for 153 years. You could take all the beer they ever brewed and it would not have begun to whet the nervous mouths of the Hearts fans who piled into their local watering holes, hoping that it would be the day they’d see history unfold.
In just a matter of hours, they could have been celebrating their team being crowned Scottish Premiership champions for the first time since 1960.
A straight shoot out with perennial 55-time winners Celtic gave them the best chance to excise the demons of 1986, when their hopes of winning the title were dashed at the last minute. It would erase the scars of the 1998 campaign that the current team have surpassed by a distance, and of 2006 and the Romanov induced fever dream.
Arriving at a pub just after 10am would usually be considered early, but trying to find one with any space even almost two hours before kick off proved difficult.
Every one you passed was fit to burst with bodies belting out the Hearts Song at full lung. It was electric. The Diggers - full, Tynecastle Arms - full, Golden Rule - full. The rest stowed out.
There was still a distance to go until kick off and outside and inside every pub the fingernails are down to the nubbins.
Eventually I bit the bullet and decided I might as well join a queue and hope for the best. I headed to the pub nearest Tynecastle, the Tynecastle Arms. It took some going but I managed to find a spot to cram myself into and strapped myself in for 90 minutes that could change Scottish football.
Next to me as kick off approached, a barrel of a man stood, a can of Red Bull in his hand. “What a year it's been and every week better than last,” he said.
It was, at times, almost impossible to see a screen, so I was left judging how the game was going purely by the vibes of those surrounding me.
Every corner was met with a roar akin to a last minute winner. Half chances were greeted with the enthusiasm that you’d imagine would follow the trophy being handed over.
With minutes left in the first half, Lawrence Shankland did as he has done many times before and knocked one into the back of the net. A captain leading by example. The roar was euphonious. There were pints in the air and then there were people in the air. It was beyond their wildest beliefs.
A woman who spent the first half perched on the literal edge of her seat under the television walked out of the bar three times, each time saying “I can’t take it”.
For a moment, fans were allowing themselves to believe the unthinkable. Hearts could win this. Hearts could be crowned champions.
But it is short-lived. The Tynecastle Arms was stunned into silence. A Celtic penalty. Nightmares of Wednesday night. An equaliser. And the game is on once again.
Half time came and went, but to call it a half time break would be a misnomer. There was no break for the fans. But they are still hopeful. If Hearts could even hold on to the draw, the title would be theirs.
Then the kicker. Daezen Maeda. There were pleas for offside but they were ignored. The pendulum swung and the energy was zapped from the room.
It was all over when Celtic scored a third goal shortly before the final whistle was due to blow. People streamed out the pub. The dream was done.
From those who remained, first there was silence and then there were tears. Pride. Regret. What ifs. They flowed down maroon faces.
Across the bar there was a man, built like the side of a Lothian Bus, head shaved to the bone. There were tears streaming down his face. The man had poured everything he had into believing his team would do it.
Outside, things were somber. Friends hugged, others buried their faces in their arms on the barriers that had been set up for what they had hoped would be a triumphant Hearts team returning.
Fans made their way to Tynecastle the minute the game was over. Their hopes may have been dashed, but the pride they had in their team was very much alive.
At first, the overarching emotion was dejection. This was a team that has gotten so close, but had fallen just short.
Nearby a woman on her phone read the SFA rules out to her gutted family. Fans were on the park, the final whistle didn’t go, the result could still be overturned.
You can have all the talk of 10-year plans and “we’ve not really got started yet”, but to come so close and fall ever so short is a different thing altogether. Your heart would have to be made of stone not to share in their pain.
But as time went on, the somberness started to lift. Tears were brushed away and words of anger or sadness gave way to the Hearts Song which only got louder as more joined in.
It was like the fans all agreed that it wasn’t the time to dwell on what could have been, but rather to celebrate all that was in a season of football no Jambo would ever forget.
“You need to take moments like this to appreciate it when you do finally win,” one fan beside me said.
There is still hope in Gorgie.