The Drum was on set at The Rose Reilly pub in Glasgow as Tennent’s and Leith captured the emotional baggage of being a Scotland fan with their Rory McCann-fronted World Cup ad.

For Scotland fans, optimism inevitably ends in disappointment. The more cynical among us might argue we’ve already used up our share of glory for the entire century in a couple of tournament qualifications, a handful of thunderous goals and little else. We watch Scotland with divided attention: one eye on the pitch, the other already searching Google Maps for the nearest pub.

Context for perpetual pessimism explained, I can now share that I was invited to The Rose Reilly, a Glasgow pub where Tennent’s and Leith were filming a new World Cup ad starring Rory McCann, the man-mountain better known as Mr Porridge Oats or The Hound from Game of Thrones.

Given our track record, what I’m expecting to see play out on set is a joke, a wink and a weary ‘It’s shite being Scottish,’ followed by an inevitable ‘Och well, maybe next time.’ Maybe even a touch of condescension – ‘Wee rubbish Scotland, lucky just to be there.’ To be fair, I’d watched the qualifying campaign through half-closed eyes while Fifa steadily expanded the World Cup from a tournament for the very best nations into one that now includes almost everyone except North Korea, the two Irelands and Wales.

It’s safe to say that, after 28 years of misery, I am on the defensive and ready to rip this campaign apart when they ask what I think. Nothing could live up to the emotional burden this tournament carries. 

‘Time to Dream’

The first thing to say about ‘Time to Dream’ (which launched today) is that it is surprisingly sincere. The film is stirring without tipping into sentimentality, grounded by McCann’s gravelly monologue inside a meticulously dressed Glasgow pub that shifts through time from 1998 to the present day.

Around him, the pub becomes a vessel for memory, heartbreak and, tentatively, belief as he raises a pint to Scotland fans who have spent decades waiting for moments like this. The line that anchors the campaign feels almost reckless to anyone raised on tournament trauma: “We are not ready to wake up yet.”

Hazel Alexander, senior brand manager for Tennent’s, tells me that the creative was shaped by the buzz the team felt on that rather emotional day Scotland qualified. “From the moment that goal went in, the sheer euphoria and feeling of ‘we did it’ was overwhelming. We knew we had to capture this and, as a brand, show that we are there with the fans – with the passion and excitement ignited in us.”

I was a little late to the excitement party, but I’m almost there now. After 28 years, the country is being invited to dream in public. For those who remember France 98 – or inherited the emotional baggage of it from older relatives – that invitation still comes with a sense of danger.

Alexander knows Tennent’s has lived alongside that suspicion for decades. The brand, she says, has been “a Scotland fan for decades,” there “through it all, including the tears and the long walks home.”

That history gives the campaign its authority. Tennent’s is not speaking to fans from the outside; it is speaking from within the ritual itself: the pint before kick-off, the pub after the final whistle, the shared dread and the stubborn reappearance of belief.

Alexander says the team began thinking about summer 2026 at the end of last year, before qualification had even been secured. The brand had already gambled on the emotional scale of the moment. It just so happened that qualification arrived in circumstances that raised the stakes even further – a McTominay volley and a goal from the halfway line… very un-Scottish behaviors, those. 

The resulting campaign, she says, needed to feel “big and bold,” celebrating both the team’s journey and the one supporters had been on alongside them. That sense of collective memory sits at the heart of the work.

The Rose Reilly gives that memory a fitting home. Sam Muir, a creative at Leith, says the Glasgow pub had “a great, timeless look and feel” as well as a direct link to Scottish football history through Rose Reilly herself, “a pioneer of the women’s game.”

Muir says the film had to feel “big, epic and rousing” – an ad “befitting of the occasion” that could carry fans from “the disappointment of 98 to now.” The pub becomes the engine for that journey. As McCann delivers his monologue, the room shifts through time, the late 90s giving way to now. The crowd becomes a living timeline, turning Scotland’s return to the World Cup into something felt and remembered rather than simply announced in a sports headline. Eagle-eyed viewers will also spot what amounts to a museum’s worth of Tennent’s memorabilia and Scottish football ephemera littered about the pub.

Tennent’s has earned the right to tell that story, having supported the national team in some form or another since 1974 (back when we were quite good), with Alexander describing national pride as part of the brewer’s DNA: “stubbornly positive,” “proudly authentic” and always “up for a laugh.”

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The casting of McCann gives the film much of its heft. Alexander says Tennent’s wanted someone with “instant credibility” who could deliver a rousing address to the nation without tipping into parody. McCann brings a straight-talking warmth that keeps the film grounded. As Alexander puts it, he can carry belief, grit and a knowing smile all at once. Or as Muir tells me: “He’s got great stature and feels like a fan talking from the heart.”

On set, he gives the production plenty to work with. During a break, McCann looks at the beer in front of him and says, “That’s a good pint that.” I don’t think he knows he was being watched. 

At The Rose Reilly, the production is exacting. Outside, the production tent almost blows away in the Glasgow weather. Inside, the room moves at the pace of a film set, chasing precision. The timing of McCann’s monologue is argued over and tightened, take by take. Pans are debated. Extras moved in and out. One poor soul is cut to save half a second. 

Muir says the biggest technical challenge is lighting. The film needs to begin dark and gradually get lighter. Music works in the same direction. Both the sound and lighting, he says, are designed to begin “dark and moody” before lifting to “a big crescendo.”

The background cast carries a lot of that emotional build. Muir says directing them carefully is essential because they are “integral to showing the disappointment of the fans that then turned to joy.” On set, that means a lot of bodies, reactions and timing being moved into place. In the finished film, it gives McCann’s speech a living audience. 

Then there is the pint. The hero shot was filmed again and again, with a Tennent’s stylist named Stevie refreshing the lager between almost every take. He guards the glow of the glass like it is a sacred object. I never actually got to meet Stevie, but I certainly have respect for his craft, having consumed more Tennent’s over the years than I’m willing to admit here.

Lunch brings its own quietly surreal interlude. The production crosses the road to a nearby mosque, where cast and crew eat alongside extras in retro Scotland tops who are understandably careful not to spill anything on their shirts. I have fewer concerns about my own clothes, though I am slightly more anxious about staining the impossibly thick carpet while our shoes rest at the front door. 

It feels like a strange pause in the middle of a carefully staged Scottish football dream. On the way out, I also catch sight of what I assume are Rory McCann’s shoes, them being so big.

An hour later, back inside The Rose Reilly, I watch McCann growl his way through the monologue again and find myself slowly letting go of my cynicism. Against my better judgment, I am starting to believe a little. I had promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen. 

The wider campaign

Alexander says the campaign speaks to “all of Scotland”: the Tartan Army, the traveling supporters, the fans with tickets, the ones without, those in pubs and those watching from home. 

There is also the logistical chaos of a North American World Cup to contend with. Alexander points to the late kick-offs, the overlap with music festivals and the reality of still having work the next morning. That, she says, is exactly where Tennent’s expects to live during the tournament: in pubs, living rooms, airports and late-night gatherings across the country. I’m currently trying to decide whether I’ll head to the pub for a 2am kick-off, watch from bed or simply record the match for the morning. I’m sure those unpredictable viewing habits are giving a lot of media buyers a lot of headaches right now.

The campaign itself will run across cinema, VOD, social and TV, supported by nationwide OOH, airport executions, squad-departure content, reactive work and a limited-edition retro shirt. The media mix gives Tennent’s room to vary the tone. 

Alexander describes the hero TV creative as “self-assured and stubbornly positive,” with the brand behaving like “a realist” that “wears confidence with a dirty great smile,” while the OOH has “quick-witted humor at its heart,” bringing what she calls “much-needed relief in the seriousness of the game.” (There’s that humor I was expecting.)

That split feels right. The film carries the emotion, the wider campaign lets Scotland laugh, breathe and brace itself.

For Tennent’s, the campaign signals a wider brand direction. Alexander says ‘Time to Dream’ reinforces ‘Raised in Scotland’ as a way of life, an attitude and an identity. The broader campaign brings in humor, cultural relevance and fame. She also points to innovation, from Tennent’s Pilsner to Tennent’s Tops, as part of the brand’s push to bring in new drinkers and broaden appeal.

Alexander says the real measure of its success will come years from now, at the next World Cup or even a decade down the line, when people look back and say: “Remember when Tennent’s…” 

That is an ambitious benchmark. The campaign is attaching itself to a national memory that does not yet exist and, given Scotland’s history, may never.

For now though, Scotland has its dream back. And Tennent’s has positioned itself as the brand that will sit alongside whatever memories follow – whether they turn out glorious or, more likely, devastating.