AT half-time in the Allianz Arena the other week, a Bayern Munich fan came back to his seat holding two pints of lager. Turns out they were for me and my colleague Robert Grieve, because the lad thought it was a shame we were sitting in the press box without a drink and wanted to show us proper Bavarian hospitality. A lovely gesture. A civilised gesture. The kind of grown-up, nice-to-be-nice snapshot that makes so many Scottish football fans desperate for the day when beer’s on sale in our stadiums. Why can’t we have a sociable drink at the match, they say? Why don’t politicians and cops trust us to be civilised the way they are in Europe? Well, let someone who grew up when bevvy quite literally flowed around every ground in the land explain why. It’s because we proved back then we could not be civilised with a cargo onboard. And a wander round any town centre any night of the week suggests there’s no reason to believe we’d be any different today. So please, spare me the romanticism of the “let’s go back to the good old days” argument being spouted by so many as the debate hots up over lifting a ban imposed off the back of a full-scale riot at an Old Firm cup final 45 years ago. Because anyone who says that carnage wasn’t fuelled by bevvy is kidding themselves. Anyone who claims our drinking culture as a nation has changed since then hasn’t been paying attention. Fact is, we only have to look at the behaviour of those pain-in-the-arse Ultras gangs sprouting all over the shop to know how little civility too many Scottish football supporters display when allowed too much of their own way. These sections were originally brought in to create atmosphere at games which were seen as becoming too corporate. They were to start the singing, to be cheerleaders. But instead? It’s all smoke bombs and fireworks and kicking down barriers to get on the park, a culture that — as I’ve warned here and in the sports pages many times — is leading up to a major incident which could set our game back as far as that 1980 Hampden bloodbath did. Then again, most of those I see and hear campaigning for the drink ban to be lifted are either too young to have been around then or haven’t paid at the gate in their lives. They tend to be ones who’ve either been to corporate hospitality or like that they’ve been able to buy a pint at the rugger. Here’s the thing, though, corporate hospitality is subject to the same licensing laws as any pub or restaurant, which makes clubs responsible for behaviour on their premises. It’s very much a controlled environment, whereas a crowd of 60,000 or 6,000 or even 600 is not. As we’ve seen with the pyromaniacs in the black hoodies, stewards and police will do anything but wade in and huckle any of them out for fear of starting a barney. As for the rugger scenario, I take us back to that word civility, which it possesses far more of — off the pitch, at least, because on it they’re allowed to eat each other’s ears. Rugby fans aren’t tribal. They welcome visitors into their locals and into the home stands, something which the round-ball game has long since given up on. Sure, they get drunk and that will make a fair few of them individually anti-social, but it doesn’t lead to the kind of violence my generation got so used to seeing week in, week out. Of course, what didn’t help back then was that while alcohol wasn’t sold at the game, you could bring a carry-out in. You know, metal cans of beer and glass bottles of spirits and wine, which couldn’t possibly lead to any sort of complications apart from people chucking empty bottles over the heads in front or peeing in their empty cans then chucking them over the heads in front. We wouldn’t be talking dangerous receptacles this time round, of course, it would be lager in plastic cups like the Bayern fan brought us. But it would still be going down the necks of a whole lot of people who really don’t need any more bevvy to make them anti-social a**eholes to be around than they already are. Go to any game and see what I mean. Listen to the vitriol in the language from the stands, the depths of abuse aimed at players and managers, referees and linesmen. The levels of anger are off the chart. People seem to believe the price of a ticket includes the right to say anything they like to anyone they choose, then to offer square-gos all round if someone suggests they sit down and shut up. Do we really need more alcohol chucked into a mix which, in this uptight little country of ours, is already so badly poisoned by sectarianism? Come to think of it, why do we need a drink at the football in the first place? I don’t know a stadium which doesn’t have a pub within ten minutes’ walk max. That means we can bevvy till ten minutes before kick-off then be ordering a round ten minutes after time up. Call me a party-pooper, but if that’s not enough for us, well maybe we have to admit we have a problem.