Tired of the fight, unnerved by the future
Precious little evidence that O’Neill-Keane dream team were working hard enough
MARTIN O’NEILL knew it would probably finish up like this — in tears and without even the shallowest round of applause. Five years ago, at a private dinner with a select number of journalists and editors, he spoke eloquently and entertainingly for half an hour about his long life in football. To finish, he told those of us in the room that we would hardly end up the best of friends.
On Wednesday morning he furnished his resignation, and everyone is mostly happy to see the back of him. In his football life, in cities up and down Britain, the former Republic of Ireland manager has been here before. Not many managers have a cure for native unrest. O’Neill himself was never a miracle worker, just a damn hard worker. In his time, he was even famed for being meticulous.
But, in the last two years of his five years with the Irish team, there was precious little evidence that O’Neill — or his sidekick, Roy Keane — had their sleeves rolled up on the job. They both looked tired, a mite disinterested, if not completely fed up. It was as though we’d seen enough of them and they’d seen more than enough of us. Two of ‘the most decorated servicemen in the game’ — as stated on this page last week — gave up on us quite some time ago.
THE most unfortunate thing, after five years of hope, glory and, in the end, complete mistrust, is that their going does not leave us in a better place.
O’Neill and Keane were a dream managerial team. At a British football club, that might still be a marketable label. Remember, before it all became a mudslide of poor results, they produced the goods on the field. They took down the Germans and the Italians. We’ll remember more great evenings than wretched ones.
O’Neill and Keane will survive, but what about us?
Well, we’re going to save a few bob on their combined €2.6million annual salary. But retrenching and tightening our belts is not going to get us out of this hole.
Nor is rushing in to fill the vacancy with the appointment of Mick McCarthy, something that has been done with an indecent degree of haste. McCarthy is a good man and a safe pair of hands, but there is a danger that he is also yesterday’s man.
Our turnaround in the short-term, and possible salvation during the qualifying process for the next World Cup, might have been better served by a serious piece of lightfooted detective work. We should never forget that Joe Schmidt once upon a time was No 2 in an underachieving French club when the IRFU brought him to this country. That was at a time when the air was just as rancid in rugby as it now is in football.
There are dozens of excellent coaches out there, more in Europe than in the pressurised and frantic English game. We needed one of them. Most importantly, we needed him to allow us to play good footman ball again. Playing entertaining football is not rocket science, and neither is setting out with the firm intention of bagging a couple of goals in each game. Michael O’Neill’s Northern Ireland, despite not putting the ball in the back of our net, showed us last week how it can be done.
Contrary to the opinion of some, there would have been no embarrassment about being without a manager as we host the European Championship draw in Dublin next weekend. There was time — admittedly slightly pinched, but sufficient — to choose the right individual.
After O’Neill’s exit stage left, it was time for a deep, nourishing breath.
GIVEN his knowledge of the ravines that managers must negotiate each season, it was surprising that Martin O’Neill lost his nerve. Maybe we can put that down to his years. He’s no longer of an age when a operating at a great height looks down beneath him and scoffs at the thought of peril.
Long before this patch of scarily defensive football, O’Neill became tetchy with those watching him.
It was he — and not an Irish media — who first altered a solid relationship and created one in which his
watchers were eager to back him into a corner and demand that he defend himself and his team’s performances.
O’Neill’s combative attitude towards RTÉ’s Tony O’Donoghue also brought down upon him a second-guessing Irish public.
Why, we all wondered, was he unable to deal with the practical and dutiful questioning of one of the fairest reporters in the country.
O’Neill’s failure to respond to the RTÉ man with some patience and confidence betrayed two uncomfortable realities.
One: O’Neill showed he no longer had total confidence in what he was doing. Two: O’Neill clearly demonstrated that he was tiring of the fight. Not being able to duel in a calm, business-like way with O’Donogue was the beginning of the end. And over the last 18 months he has steadily advanced towards his exit.