Irish Lose: O Dear, O-dear O-dear O-dear

Before Jack Charlton invented Irish football, Ireland had a tremendous record at home. We went thirteen years unbeaten at Lansdowne in competitive games, and the day we lost it those of us at the game enjoyed it enormously, even though we were beaten 4-1. But why? you ask.

Against Denmark, in our last qualifying game for the 1986 World Cup we no longer could qualify for, the result meant little to us beyond our usual pride, but Denmark needed to win to top the group. I recall they had maybe five thousand fans at the game.

We were losing 2-1 when an accountant by the name of John Sivebaek ran with the ball diagonally the full length of the pitch towards me in my corner of the South Terrace, and then he shot a looping chip shot diagonally into the far corner.

It was such an impressive goal that Manchester United bought Sivebaek and always looked back. Lansdowne was abuzz. Watching Ireland lose is generally sickening, and 3-1 down at home unthinkable, but the whole ground was aware that the tour operator who had transported the Danes to Ireland had offered them a refund should Denmark win by three clear goals.

As Soren Lerby was substituted and flown immediately to Munich to come on for the second half of a German cup game, his Danish colleagues were cheered on by Irish and Danes alike, and everybody had a party when the fourth goal was duly scored.

The reverse feeling of that unusal occasion happened for me at the 1998 World Cup Finals in France. Chile were playing Austria. Hans Krankl was a great player, but nobody on the planet likes Austrians. Not even Austrians like Austrians. Meanwhile Chile had Zamorano and Salas, the two best looking footballers in the competition. And Chilean fans had the best songs. And I was sitting among thousands of them.

1-0 up the unfancied Chile were one minute from victory as the gorgeous sounds of Vamos, Vamos Chilenos filled the French stadium. One of the best photographs I never took was of thousands of flag and jersey bedecked Chileans with their faces fully painted after just conceding a goal in the final seconds of a World Cup game. They all kind of looked like clowns wearing downward painted smiles. My finger twitched on my camera, but I didn't have the heart to photograph them in their misery.

I was on the phone twice to Dublin yesterday and both times my callers reminded me that Ireland were playing Chile. Until Jack Charlton sucked the imagination out of Irish football I once didn't miss a game for ten years. Chile is a game I would have liked being at. I mean, you might get to hear Vamos Chilenos.

We lost. 1-0. It was a friendly. Despite FIFA rankings it doesn't really matter. Steve Staunton should not be attacked for that. He should be attacked for speaking exclusively in football cliches. But that's a different blogpost.

See Also:
    • Seats on the Halfway Line
    • Irish Attention for Johnson County Soccer
    • 1-0 to Arsenal