An Irish footballer. A typical Irish footballer. And one of the best of the modern era. A man out of time and out of place. A joy to behold. A gamechanger. A man who made Ireland tick. A man who some say deserved more. But a man who achieved great, great things in the green jersey. Some are lamenting how he was under-used and how he somehow never scaled the dizzier heights of the Premier League. Managers reared on a different football culture to Wes never really understood or appreciated him the way we the fans did. But to lament what could have been before his magnificent late blooming for Ireland is to miss the point. Celebrate Wes. Celebrate the fact that we saw him play 42 times for Ireland and celebrate that he was crafted not in English academies, but here in Ireland. In Dublin.
Wes is a football genius from the same playmaking Irish midfield lineage that produced John Giles and Liam Brady. As Dunphy bangs on about repeatedly and bloody correctly, he is the quintessential Irish street footballer who played rather than pushed his way out of trouble and created chances for others. His early days at Shelbourne saw him play a major part in a near-glory Champions League run, the likes of which today would get you Europa League group football and all that entails. The second round second leg in Tolka Park against Hadjuk Split was one of Irish soccer’s great nights, and let us not forget that it was 0-0 on aggregate at half-time in the second leg away in Deportivo. He won 3 league titles with that all-conquering side before heading to Blackpool.
It was in 2008 that Wes moved to Norwich and he has been a stalwart there since, crowning his club career with the Player Of The Year award last season. But it’s been his performances under Martin O’Neill for Ireland which is how most of us will remember him. And jaysus they were truly magnificent. His retirement from the international game is no surprise but it is a sad week for Irish football. He made his debut under Trappatoni in 2008 and was promptly ignored for 4 years, despite being a Premier League regular. Trap preferred Andrews, Whelan and Paul Green in there, even taking the latter to Poland despite having no club. Wes was just one of a half-dozen or so that the ignorant and arrogant Italian was not interested in using. It wasn’t until 2012, at the age of 30, that Wes was given his second cap and it wasn’t until Martin O’Neill took over that he became central.
Some of you may be confused by that statement given O’Neill’s tendency to underuse him and to also rely on a brand of football that’s the antithesis to one in which Wes excels. But the fact is O’Neill played him 40 times in his 46 matches. We’ll be discussing this aspect of both their careers to death forever, and yes behind the stats lie some really poor decisions by O’Neill. So instead I’d like to dwell on the two stand-out moments from Wes’s international career, which happened only a week apart – the goal against Sweden and the cross for Robbie Brady against Italy.
I wrote here about Ireland’s tournament in quite a bit of detail. I still remember the feeling when Wes brought us to our feet in the Swan Bar on that great summer Monday evening in Dublin. It wasn’t just a goal. It was a great goal, crafted with great art between Donegal and Dublin; between Sligo Rovers and Shelbourne. It was skillful and precise; a beautiful finish and a classic celebration. It stood for everything that the previous regime despised – creativity, courage, willingness to take the opponent on. And at the end of Seamus Coleman’s dribbling run was Wes and there was no doubt that he would score.
That was footballing courage on display. But it was mental and psychological courage that was required in Lille a week later. Brought on a bit late when a goal was desperately required against Italy, Wes got the chance. He was gifted an absolute sitter with about 8 minutes on the clock and he fluffed it. But unlike a fairly good proportion of players in that position, he immediately went looking for the ball – not in a Steven Gerrard “I need to be the superhero” way – but in a measured and controlled way. And christ was his cross to Robbie Brady measured and controlled. Another great goal crafted with sublime skill.
I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Wes in the flesh on countless occasions, as I’m sure many of you had. It’s an incredible experience to see how the entire dynamic of the Irish team and the entire game shifts on its axis when he comes on as a sub. Suddenly every Irish player on the ball has an option. Suddenly runs are made and players are found with great passes. Even throw-ins happen faster. Wes was the man who made these things happen.
Much is made of the Irish style of play, or lack thereof, but little is made of the reason for it. It’s down to ignorance. Ignorance dating back to the Charlton days, and the massive success of that era has shaded people’s views of our team, and has even convinced we the fans that we like the hellfire and thunder, the hoofed pressure game and last-ditch heroics. It’s bullshit and it has been instilled in us by outside influences. Charlton was no footballer – the polar opposite of his brother. But even under Jack, there was room for the likes of Houghton, Roy Keane, McGrath and Ronnie Whelan. Martin O’Neill is a man reared on the English way, a man who phenomenally battled his way up through the leagues and through Europe with Celtic. He has many, many positive attributes but his football style is basic. Trappatoni was a complete write-off in this regard. Mick McCarthy got it; Brian Kerr certainly got it and even Staunton probably got it.
The “it” is that we have always been defined not by big centre-forwards; not by lumpen centre halfs; and not just by long-ball football. Our greatest teams always revolved around the little lad in midfield or on the wing, or a tricky forward player. Ray Houghton and the way he never stopped running; Damien Duff and his silky wing-play. Robbie Keane and his ability to outfox the best in the world. Even in defence, Paul McGrath and David O’Leary dribbled their way out of the back more often than they lumped it. And let’s not forget Steven Ireland’s moment in the spotlight and how that could have been. Or Andy Reid for that matter. These are typical Irish footballers. Today we look to Daryl Horgan, Robbie Brady or Seamus Coleman. Let the Rugby have the private school lads built like barges; let the GAA have the rural lads and the 6-foot giants and artless brawlers of the towns and cities; Irish soccer can have all the lads who can run rings around you with the ball at their feet with guile, precision, and that beautiful form of scrappiness that only this game can bring out. Long-ball football is an English style not an Irish style and Wes Hoolahan epitomises that.
Wes Hoolahan; one of only 12 men to have scored for Ireland in a major tournament. One of only 6 Dubliners to have done so. A great Irish football career – the type of player we want all our kids to aspire to – humble, polite, grateful, creative, courageous and the most enjoyable player to watch in many many years. It’s a moment to salute everything he gave us – from Tolka Park to Paris, thanks Wes.
A Yard of Grass 