The Scots effectively have a two-team league of their own, but what an impact they have made on the English game. On Tuesday night, Sky's television cameras were rolled into the Stadium of Light for the last time in the old century and two Scotsmen - men who epitomise more than any others the new, commercial dictum of football across the water - waved goodbye to the 1990s. One of them, of course, was Alex Ferguson, manager of Manchester United. The team of the '90s, both financially and in terms of success. We saw him punching the dial on his stop-watch, chewing gum and shouting at his players like an ordinary manager of a Junior League team in the Phoenix Park. A man of deep emotion, a man who delivers the goods. A man for whom every single match is important. A man of the '90s and, one presumes, the '00s too.

The other? We caught sight of him high in the gantry, eyes twinkling and his mouth moving in that non-stop manner that must drive his wife batty. You can love him or loathe him, but, if the truth be told, Andy Gray's in-your-face broadcasting marries well with the sometimes crass but always comprehensive coverage that Sky Sports have brought to the game.

Gray is working harder now than he ever did on the football pitch, and he was no slouch there either. On Wednesday, he was again by Martin Tyler's side for the final match of the millennium as Chelsea dutifully outclassed Sheffield Wednesday. But it was Tuesday night's rather more important game that brought out the braggart in him, allowing him the leverage to praise and chastise and ridicule almost in the same breath.

He is one of a kind. Thankfully, many of us would say. The co-commentary of the likes of John Giles or Mark Lawrenson is more insightful and delivered without the requirement of a tabloid-style gloss. Gray's style, nevertheless, works on two counts: firstly, he does know his football; and, secondly, it's what Sky, and their viewers, expect. His "Ooooohhhhsss" and "Aaahhs" may hint at a peculiar Scottish dialect but, my goodness, he puts some feeling into it.

There's only one thing that Gray likes better than a Manchester United fightback, and that's when Manchester United fall behind early on in a match. He got his wish on Tuesday night. After 71 seconds, Sunderland were one up. After 13 minutes, they were two up. "We're set up," roared Gray, scarcely controlling his delight. "Manchester United won't want to lose here," he added, as if we didn't get his drift already.

Of Niall Quinn's goal, Gray drooled: "He may not be quick of feet, but he's quick of mind. . . Niall Quinn!!!!" And, yet, Graeme Souness was voicing concern at the half-time break after Roy Keane had pulled a goal back for United. "I've never seen Manchester United complain as much to a referee as I've seen tonight," said yet another Scot in Sky's team, adding: "The big problem for Sunderland is, can they maintain the tempo?

Can they keep up that kind of pressing? I fear for Sunderland the longer the game goes on." Souness must have got tarot cards in his Christmas stocking.

"Manchester United are knocking, knocking, knocking at the door," remarked Gray as time was running out on the Red Devils and it was almost fitting, given their contribution to football in the '90s, that they didn't end the decade, or indeed the century, on a losing note when they grabbed a late equaliser. "If you're looking for a moment right at the end of the year to define United's capacity to produce the unexpected, you've got it there," said Tyler, and our minds went back to a certain Champions League final when such a never-saydie spirit was exemplified.

There weren't too many Scots in the Circus Tavern in Purfleet in Essex for the World Dart Championships which, in reality, is a bit like acknowledging that the World Series in baseball really is a world championship. Ninety per cent of the players and 100 per cent of the quarter-finalists actually came from England, which makes it a bit of a trumped-up national championship in my view.

But, whenever Sid Waddell is around, you can be sure of emotion, passion and purple prose. For those of us reared on watching Jocky Wilson slurp through endless pints of lager then firing darts through smoke-filled taverns, the new image of darts, as shown to us on Sky Sports over the past few days, came as a bit of a shock. No smoking at the oche, nobody spilling pints onto the ground. A clean, serious sport - but still with Waddell warbling on with the sort of language that relegates Gray to a choirboy.

One Scot who managed to infiltrate the English and make it to the stage was Jamie Harvey. "He looks like a pale-faced Edinburgh academical, a student of tungsten technology," said Waddell, which was his way of saying that Harvey was a Scottish darts player in trouble.

This is a sporting world unlike any other. "We've got jocks in frocks, cats in hats and a crowded cornucopia of the darts fraternity here," said Waddell of the packed venue, adding: "You name it, they'll wear it."

He was right, and the most popular shirt was one with large navy and red hoops similar to the one that the cartoon character Dennis the Menace wears. That's because Dennis Priestley - Dennis the Menace, get it? - was in mortal combat with Harvey at the oche. When Priestly missed eight darts at a double, finding the wrong bed, or a "Goldilocks" in darts parlance, Waddell remarked: "When you're given a lifeline, if you don't get your hands around it, then you'll stay with the sharks."

The Menace did eventually take the lifeline to end the Scot's hopes, but only one man has the ability to cut across the partisan nature of darts: Phil Taylor. He is the king of the ring, the man at the top of the tree. Just as Manchester United dominated English soccer over the last decade, Taylor had a stranglehold on darts.

When he produced a 141 checkout in his match with the unfortunate Graeme Stoddart, Waddell's peculiar voice almost lifted the roof. "That's why he is what he is. . . he pulls the rug out from under you and leaves you on the mat." You figure it out.

An easier analogy came later from Waddell as the inevitable Taylor whitewash was within reach. "Graeme's skidding like a barmaid at closing time," he said. Where else would you get it?

Anyway, Waddell and his co-commentator Dave Lanning are the original fans with microphones who genuinely believe they have the best jobs in the world. They bring a passion that should be reserved for after the nine o'clock threshold and, as John Lowe and Keith Deller burned the midnight oil on Thursday night, the two were in paradise.

Lowe is a throw-back to the old days, a world champion in the 1970s, '80s and '90s. Others from that vintage are living on hazy memories, but Lowe is still mixing it with the best and chasing the nine-dart checkout. To beat Deller in his last-16 match, he produced the kind of fightback that was curiously reminiscent of United's reply to Sunderland two nights previously. It only went to prove that sport, be it the mega-rich world of professional soccer or the not-so-rich world of darts and its once-a-year place in the sporting limelight, crosses many different divides.