Beckett Peck
Over the weekend of one of the most
immense games of sport in Irish history I corresponded with several friends in
England, one of whom was a sports
correspondent for the Times. Contrary to popular belief, the significance of this occasion was not lost on this journalist, perhaps he is one of the few with a
conscience. Some of the British
newspapers gave the game historical background that some of the less
historically minded supporters were
lacking. The Daily mail featured a page long explanation of what had happened on bloody Sunday, the GAA’s role within
society, its links with Republicanism and the idea of Croke Park as hallowed ground. Other newspapers were more surprising in their coverage. The
Guardian, for example, a somewhat
liberal paper focused more on the
security build-up to the game and gave only brief mention to the event’s
historical significance, playing up a theme of Republican hardline opposition to the game. The historical and
political reaction is best gauged , not in terms of Irish reaction, but in terms of English media reaction.
Those Englishmen and women that
understood the significance sought to further their knowledge in some way, reading multiple accounts of Bloody
Sunday and general GAA overviews.
It was well publicised that, in the lead up to the game, former Irish rugby
captain Conor O’Shea addressed the
English players regarding the historical context of the match and, although the match may have been the same as any other to England, it was a deeply important matter, not only to the Irish team, but to the nation itself. It is possible that this was undertaken so that a repeat would be avoided of Martin Johnson’s actions a few years ago, when he lined up on the wrong side of the pitch, forcing a small detour for Uachtarán na hÉireann Mary McAleese. The fallout from that affair was not as great as to sour relations, but something as small as the positioning of the teams for the anthems would have been highly criticised last Saturday.
The question must be asked whether the game and the build up would have been as cordial had it been a game of soccer. The now infamous visit of the English soccer team and a few of their ‘supporters’ was the last time the twos teams met. I do not think it unreasonable to assume that there may have a more hostile atmosphere for the travelling
English fans and their players on the pitch.
That was, however, not the case, and we should not indulge in ‘what if’ history. As it stands the event will forever be
mentioned in the same breath as Bloody
Sunday and its significance as a cultural event for the nation will always be
remembered.
Let us not forget the reason that those 30 men lined up against each other, and let us not forget the rousing display of the Irish players. 80 odd thousand in Croke park and hundreds of thousands in homes and pubs across the country bore witness to one of the great Irish displays of character, good sportsmanship and heroism. Watching the anthems, it was impossible to foresee an Irish loss, and our predictions proved correct.
Though we were well aware of the history marking this game, let it not be said that the average Englishman did not also refer to his history book, for he tried to understand what it meant to be Irish, even if just for a day.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Dead Stan walking?
On Tuesday the 6th of February, as snow was forecast to blanket a sun-swept Ireland from coast to coast, battle-hardened followers of the cause arrived by air into Rimini, anticipating an easy win against the European minnows San Marino. In contrast, back home, blue bereted frogs descended en mass, booking out Dublin hotels in preparation for a Sunday to remember. Our theatre of dreams, Croke Park, was set to be the venue for one of Ireland’s most historic sporting occasions!
As in years gone by, the international escapades of our boys in green herald in the start of spring, but once again we were forced to watch an all too familiar scenario unfold, as twice in five days it will be remembered that the agents of fortune and the rub of the green conspired both revive and destroy our sporting dreams. Yes, spring we now know is certainly here, Irish sport and weather coinciding, as we true patriots are once again forced to endure both the bitter, and the sweet.
A week has since passed, and it is my opinion that you may be reluctant to re-read an account of our sporting trials, but the weight of such an embarrassing performance as that of two weeks ago in San Marino requires that, out of mere national pride, I report to you the status quo.
As you well know, we are a nation of disproportionately high expectations, nowhere more so than on the soccer stage, a narrow loss to Spain in the 2002 World Cup serving only to strengthen our belief. But with time comes change, and in the FAI’s case it’s generally for the worse, John Delaney’s latest forays adequately proving my point. The appointment of the inexperienced Steve Staunton as Irish manager is merely the tip of the iceberg which has been the FAI chief’s notorious career.
As it happened, the Ginger Avenger began his reign with a 3-0 win against a Sweden side in freefall, a result which unsurprisingly led to scenes of elation in Lansdowne Road, tinged with hope of bigger and better things to come. I hesitate to say, however, that these delusions of grandeur and success have long since begun to disappear.
An opening day loss away to Germany was followed by a desperately disappointing 5-2 defeat by a team of nobodies in the shape of Cyprus, a result which saw considerable pressure heaped upon the FAI, the players, and ultimately the manager, Stan the Man himself. A country’s frustration grew from a terribly embarrassing opening, which for all intents and purposes was hailed also as the impromptu end of our European campaign.
As much as we moaned, however, a double header of home matches showed us that the lads had something to prove. A four point return following a healthy 1-1 draw with the Czechs and an encouraging 5-0 rout of San Marino left a glimmer of light shining at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and an uneasy relief that the worst had passed.
It proved, unfortunately, to be only the eye of the storm. It is ironic now to recall the words used with full assurance the country over, following that dire night in Nicosia, when pundits stated matter-of-factly that “things really can’t get any worse”. Oh how horribly wrong they were!
On a warm Wednesday night a few weeks ago, atop a mountain outside Serravalle in a little known enclave of eastern Italy, Laurel and Hardy acted out their greatest farce, and our proud team of premiership premadonnas proved that they are truly worth less in euros than the numbers on their backs!
With ninety minutes gone, even Eamon Dunphy couldn’t have predicted that the European minnows would not only have scored there first goal in over a decade, but also be threatening a draw due to the most embarrassing display of football by an Irish side since, well, Cyprus!
However with only thirty seconds remaining the eleven men in green conspired to pull the rabbit from the hat, scoring a fortuitous winner which in all fairness produced nothing more than a postponement of the stoning planned for the players following the final whistle. Yes, it was definitely a night to forget.
Yet surely it will not be forgotten, and sad is the day we look forward to the first soccer match in Croke Park, not with excitement but with anxiety. Not with hope but with fear. The collapse of an Irish side to the Welsh in front of a full house of 80,000 is a nightmare scenario we all pain to conceive.
It is tentatively, so, that this writer suggests a six point return from our next two games is not impossible, as perhaps this latest shambolic display is just the kick in the ass those lads needed to reassure them of their place in international football.
In any case, to their clubs they have returned, but it is long in the memory that this night will last. As one reporter so adequately put it, by winning the match in the last minute we did nothing more than “burgle a trócaire box!”. An apt conclusion it is too, the win served merely to rob San Marino of their dreams, and no more! Our player’s hung their heads in disgrace, the noose of public opinion not far from their minds, and yet two weeks later, the gallows remain empty. Someone’s head must surely swing for this travesty! But wait, this is of course Ireland, a country where the health service is run by a group of unapologetic, apathetic clowns, the law by incompetent, dishonest gardaí, and the country in general by a gaggle of over-paid, asinine idiots who by the looks of things spend half our annual budget down in Burger King! So yes, bureaucracy in ranks of the football association means that the inexplicable disaster which was San Marino will, almost certainly, go unpunished.
James Stuart Parnell once said “No man has the right to set the boundary to the march of a nation”. Stan’s inadequacy has surely done just that! I put it to you then that if, after this, some are still granted stays of execution, for what possible calamity will they eventually hang??
Only God knows, but at this stage in our soccer history I believe I am safe in once again saying that it really can’t get much worse…Can it?
As in years gone by, the international escapades of our boys in green herald in the start of spring, but once again we were forced to watch an all too familiar scenario unfold, as twice in five days it will be remembered that the agents of fortune and the rub of the green conspired both revive and destroy our sporting dreams. Yes, spring we now know is certainly here, Irish sport and weather coinciding, as we true patriots are once again forced to endure both the bitter, and the sweet.
A week has since passed, and it is my opinion that you may be reluctant to re-read an account of our sporting trials, but the weight of such an embarrassing performance as that of two weeks ago in San Marino requires that, out of mere national pride, I report to you the status quo.
As you well know, we are a nation of disproportionately high expectations, nowhere more so than on the soccer stage, a narrow loss to Spain in the 2002 World Cup serving only to strengthen our belief. But with time comes change, and in the FAI’s case it’s generally for the worse, John Delaney’s latest forays adequately proving my point. The appointment of the inexperienced Steve Staunton as Irish manager is merely the tip of the iceberg which has been the FAI chief’s notorious career.
As it happened, the Ginger Avenger began his reign with a 3-0 win against a Sweden side in freefall, a result which unsurprisingly led to scenes of elation in Lansdowne Road, tinged with hope of bigger and better things to come. I hesitate to say, however, that these delusions of grandeur and success have long since begun to disappear.
An opening day loss away to Germany was followed by a desperately disappointing 5-2 defeat by a team of nobodies in the shape of Cyprus, a result which saw considerable pressure heaped upon the FAI, the players, and ultimately the manager, Stan the Man himself. A country’s frustration grew from a terribly embarrassing opening, which for all intents and purposes was hailed also as the impromptu end of our European campaign.
As much as we moaned, however, a double header of home matches showed us that the lads had something to prove. A four point return following a healthy 1-1 draw with the Czechs and an encouraging 5-0 rout of San Marino left a glimmer of light shining at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and an uneasy relief that the worst had passed.
It proved, unfortunately, to be only the eye of the storm. It is ironic now to recall the words used with full assurance the country over, following that dire night in Nicosia, when pundits stated matter-of-factly that “things really can’t get any worse”. Oh how horribly wrong they were!
On a warm Wednesday night a few weeks ago, atop a mountain outside Serravalle in a little known enclave of eastern Italy, Laurel and Hardy acted out their greatest farce, and our proud team of premiership premadonnas proved that they are truly worth less in euros than the numbers on their backs!
With ninety minutes gone, even Eamon Dunphy couldn’t have predicted that the European minnows would not only have scored there first goal in over a decade, but also be threatening a draw due to the most embarrassing display of football by an Irish side since, well, Cyprus!
However with only thirty seconds remaining the eleven men in green conspired to pull the rabbit from the hat, scoring a fortuitous winner which in all fairness produced nothing more than a postponement of the stoning planned for the players following the final whistle. Yes, it was definitely a night to forget.
Yet surely it will not be forgotten, and sad is the day we look forward to the first soccer match in Croke Park, not with excitement but with anxiety. Not with hope but with fear. The collapse of an Irish side to the Welsh in front of a full house of 80,000 is a nightmare scenario we all pain to conceive.
It is tentatively, so, that this writer suggests a six point return from our next two games is not impossible, as perhaps this latest shambolic display is just the kick in the ass those lads needed to reassure them of their place in international football.
In any case, to their clubs they have returned, but it is long in the memory that this night will last. As one reporter so adequately put it, by winning the match in the last minute we did nothing more than “burgle a trócaire box!”. An apt conclusion it is too, the win served merely to rob San Marino of their dreams, and no more! Our player’s hung their heads in disgrace, the noose of public opinion not far from their minds, and yet two weeks later, the gallows remain empty. Someone’s head must surely swing for this travesty! But wait, this is of course Ireland, a country where the health service is run by a group of unapologetic, apathetic clowns, the law by incompetent, dishonest gardaí, and the country in general by a gaggle of over-paid, asinine idiots who by the looks of things spend half our annual budget down in Burger King! So yes, bureaucracy in ranks of the football association means that the inexplicable disaster which was San Marino will, almost certainly, go unpunished.
James Stuart Parnell once said “No man has the right to set the boundary to the march of a nation”. Stan’s inadequacy has surely done just that! I put it to you then that if, after this, some are still granted stays of execution, for what possible calamity will they eventually hang??
Only God knows, but at this stage in our soccer history I believe I am safe in once again saying that it really can’t get much worse…Can it?
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