So as we start to push the second wave back, and as the nights draw in that little bit earlier, can we say that football has changed in any meaningful way? Has your view of the game altered at all? And what might we have learned since March? Let’s take a look back at some of the biggest moments in the last 6 months as the world and football got used to this utter insanity….
“RB Leipzig vs SC Freiburg – May 16th 2020”
It was the sound that I remember most. It was a warm sunny Saturday afternoon. It had been pretty much 2 months since any live football of any real standard had been played. I was standing in the driveway while the kids played on the green outside the house. I took out my phone, opened Mobdro and searched for any Bundesliga coverage. It may have been BT and it may have been Ian Darke on commentary, I have no idea. It was in English anyway. But to hear a live commentary on a top-level football match being played in Europe was the most uplifting sound of the late spring early summer. It was a small sign, a door re-opening just a small bit. Could Ireland and the UK follow Germany. Could Shamrock Rovers be given a shot at winning the League of Ireland having started with 5 wins out of 5. And could Liverpool fulfil their destiny and complete their stroll to the Premier League title. It was in those first lines of live commentary where hope was placed for those tentative few weeks.
What did I learn? Never take this game for granted.
“It’s for the supporters, it’s for all of you out there. It’s a joy to do it for you.”
It seems like years ago when “Project Restart”, the ludicrously titled return to play in the Premier League, with what seem now a set of crazy protocols for everything from celebrations to spitting, became the most talked about subject in football in late May. As expected by anyone that doesn’t regularly succumb to irrational bouts of paralysing hysteria, it went off without a serious hitch, as the financial clout of football initiated the type of constant testing regime the NHS and the rest of British society could only dream of. Liverpool took the foot off the gas as expected and coasted to the title, falling just short of 100 points but being officially crowned on a poignant 96 points.
It’s only been in the last few weeks that I’ve truly appreciated the emotion on display by Klopp and the players that night. A bit of hindsight and recall is difficult when you’re living through a situation that changes daily and usually for the worse, but they really had been put through the mill as sportspeople. It was just unacceptable to show sympathy or even a hint of empathy with them at the time, as the Covid fires continued to burn into the summer before a brief respite. But to consider it from this distance – they were European Champions who amassed 97 points the previous season and not won the title. They were 25 points clear with 9 games to go, having dropped only 5 points. Almost every record was within their grasp, including THAT trophy. They were on the precipice of completing an unprecedented mauling of the league when the shutters came down. And were told to just be quiet, people were dying. In the space of a fortnight they went from heroes to zeros. And accepted it, as they should have in the situation. Then they had to put up with all the “null and void” crowd whose faux outrage at the very thought of anything happening ever again in life was seeping out into the ether. How can anyone thing of football at a time like this?
So while us fans were all delirious to finally stroll over the line, from the perspective of the players, it must have been utterly overwhelming. The dream of immortality was so close to being taken away – the prospect of being THAT Liverpool team to do this after 30 years; to truly belong alongside the greats that made winning the league and European Cup matters of course, rather than exceptional occasions, potentially slipping away into the distance without having the right to grumble let alone appeal. It’s no wonder Jurgen and Jordan were incapable of speaking that night.
Was there anything special to takeaway from this? For me it was the incredible power of the team ethic – the ability to forge a force much greater than the sum of its parts through humility, unity and immense hard work.
“Anybody know who I can talk to about the Government food voucher scheme?”
With this one tweet, the magnificent Marcus Rashford kicked off a campaign that has truly done his sport, his family and community proud. A symbol of everything that the dysfunctional lunatic Government in London hated – he dared to be young; he had the temerity to be working-class; he was a bloody rich footballer; he was northern; and perhaps his greatest sin of all in their eyes – he was black. How dare this reprobate, who ticked every box for that brand of Tory knacker running Britain since 2011, speak to them about social policy. What does he know? Turns out he knew quite a lot, enough to force the government to perform a u-turn in the summer and then force them to speak out against extending the scheme this week, with statements such as the following from Tory MP Brendan Clarke-Smith:
“I do not believe in nationalising children, instead we need to get back to the idea of taking responsibility.
“This means less celebrity virtue signalling on Twitter by proxy and more action to tackle the real causes of child poverty.”
Let that sink in. Marcus Rashford has an MBE for his efforts but he is far from finished.
“These children matter… and for as long as they don’t have a voice, they will have mine.”
It’s likely he will succeed again in his campaign. We all want to see fans back in grounds, but when we do, I also want every ground in the country to stand to applaud this man. I want to hear the Kop sing his name. He deserves it.
What can we learn from this? That a simple message of generosity can overcome the most convoluted, arcane forces of injustice.
“We want to be successful in changing the way Irish football is viewed worldwide”
With those words in August, Stephen Kenny started his revolution. Most Irish football fans are sick to death of watching utter shite for the past 12 years. Trappatoni had no respect for the nation that presented him the genius of Liam Brady on a plate in Turin. Martin O’Neill was no better and a bit of a prick in interviews to boot. The hope for McCarthy’s reign lasted about 25 minutes before the boredom of the performance on that Mediterranean rock blew our hopes away. We are gasping for change.
2 tournaments in 20 years – one of which was a complete waste of time – is not enough payback for us to constantly sit through games at home to the likes of Georgia where we are comprehensively outplayed. It’s not good enough. It feeds into this ignorant narrative about our players not being “good enough”, with none of these clowns ever stating what they are not “good enough” for. Qualification? Clearly we are, as demonstrated in 2012 and 2016. To get to a quarter-final of a world cup again? No, they’re probably not good enough for that, but only 1 Irish team ever was. We’re not looking for that. We’re looking for more than 1 fucking goal against Gibraltar, more than 35% possession in home games, and yes we are looking for results and qualification. And there seems to be some belief that the likes of Chris Morris and Alan McLoughlin were all world-beaters. Christ even some of our best back then – Houghton, Whelan, Stapleton, would struggle to get near recent Liverpool or Man City teams or any title-challenger today. Take off your Italia-90 tinted spectacles, engage your brain and look around!!! Until people realise that 90% of international football is a at best a step-sideways and usually a step-down from both the Premier League and, quite often, the Championship, we will never get a proper debate on the merits of the Irish national team.
Kenny’s Ireland is already a world apart from the turgid dross of his predecessors. The lack of goals is very concerning. He’s had severe mitigating factors – losing key players for the play-off then half his squad for the Nations League games is not something that has happened to any Ireland manager before. Not to mention not having had a game in front of home fans. He gets a pass until the World Cup qualifiers start, as far as I’m concerned, and deserves at least 1 campaign to get it right. We’re travelling in the right direction, and I’ll have no time for anyone who thinks it’s same-old same-old. Those types simply do not understand the game of football, not one iota of it. I look forward to every game now, with hope and with a much deeper urge to will them on their way.
What did I learn? To fall back in love with the Irish national soccer team.
“Shamrock Rovers P14 W12 D2 L0 GS38 GA7 GD31 Points 38“
In an abridged 18 game season, Shamrock Rovers won the league title with 4 games to go with the above record. They simply blew the league away. Some of their football was a joy to watch, as Graham Burke and Jack Byrne in particular ran the show, with captain Ronan Finn growing more and more into a leadership role as he bagged his 4th Premier League Medal. An unlucky draw brought AC Milan to a deserted Tallaght a few weeks back for the Europa League play-off and there was never really any way forward for Rovers against Ibrahimovic and co. As an aside, it was a killer to know that less than 15 minutes away, AC Milan were playing a competitive match against my team and I couldn’t be there – it really hit that evening. Perhaps a kinder path next season via the Champions League might open up again, as it has for Dundalk this season (although their remarkable progress this season has gone fairly unnoticed!) and we’ll get some memorable sell-out nights down Whitestown Way.
For Rovers, this has been the culmination of several years of progress under Stephen Bradley, based on patience and belief. They have now ended a 32 year wait for the FAI Cup and a 9 year wait for a league title in less than 12 months. Great times for the Hoops.
What could be the lesson from this? To have an even greater appreciation for the game that happens every week or 2 down the road from your house.
“Non-contact training can continue for school aged children, outdoors in pods of 15“
A life changing line in the list of restrictions the Irish Government imposed last week. Having the shutters fall completely on all sports for all ages was a hammer blow to society in March. We accepted that as we were learning about the virus, we could live with a total lockdown, but now we know so much more, in particular transmission rates outdoors, and transmission rates betweeen children, that it would no longer be acceptable to do so much damage to their mental health and physical well-being again. As I write this, my 5-year old is in his Hallowe’en football camp for 3 hours every morning for mid-term, and his GAA and football academies have continued. Tens of thousands (hundreds of thousands maybe) are still enjoying training and the socialising, even as the competitive matches remain suspended.
What did I learn? To never complain in the many, many years to come, about early rises at weekends; long drives to the remotest soccer outposts of Leinster; drenchings on the sidelines; filthy gear wrecking the car and house; and crap refereeing decisions. I’ll do my best.
“2020 will be remembered as the year the world turned upside down. ‘For us, the world was suddenly the right way round.’”
Martina Cox, wife of Sean Cox, quoted in the Irish Times magazine last week. A story of determination and hope that lights up this dark year. Read more here: https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/martina-cox-in-my-eyes-se%C3%A1n-was-always-coming-home-1.4380740
Honourable Mentions
Dundalk reaching the Europa League group stages again. Jack Charlton and Walkinstown Roundabout. Black Lives Matter. Being ok without fake crowd noise. Match of the Day Top 10 podcast on TV. Season 2 of Sunderland Til I Die. Champagne Football. Second Captains (brilliant as usual throughout 2020). The crowd in Helsinki. The madness of Project Big Picture.
And the knowledge that we’re 7 months closer to the turnstiles reopening; the floodlights coming into view again; the final pre-match pint sunk in 7 minutes; and the roar of the crowd, than we were in March.
A Yard of Grass 