JACK GAVE US SOMEWHERE TO GO
He took our team to a level we never dared dream of, a level we’ve never achieved since. He brought joy and togetherness to the country...
He said it would be his last game if we didn’t win
ISTOOD in the Kop end in Anfield belting out You’ll Never Walk Alone with every ounce of energy I had. Goosebumps covered my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
Those are not easy words for a lifelong Manchester United fan to write. And there are very few people in this world who I would do that for. Jack Charlton is one of them.
On December 13, 1995, I was among the tens of thousands of Irish fans who weren’t going to let Jack go without the send-off he deserved. Jack has told stories about that night, about how stewards and police came in to ask him to go back out because we wouldn’t leave the stadium until he did.
It was bitter cold and we’d just been beaten 2-0 by the Netherlands, ending our hopes of going to another major tournament with Jack at the helm. He’d said it would be his last game if we didn’t win and we knew he meant it.
The Dutch fans – always great companions – had hung around for a little while after the final whistle before heading off to find a cold pint in a warm pub, no doubt thinking we were bonkers for not joining them. But we were going nowhere. Not until Jack knew just how much he meant to us.
Although we could have stayed there all night and still only scratched the surface of our admiration for this man.
My other abiding memory of that trip is arriving into Liverpool dock after the 7.5-hour boat journey from North Wall. I was 16 and my mam had let me skip two days of school, which was unheard of. I actually think they were the only two days of secondary school I ever missed.
We made our way up on to the decks as we were pulling in, thousands of us singing our hearts out.
People were hanging out the windows of the hundreds of office blocks surrounding the dock, at first agog at this sight, then giving way to cheering us on, with some finding Irish flags from somewhere and hanging them out.
It was a spine-tingling arrival. One Irish fans have replicated dozens of times since. We love to boast of being the best fans in the world, but we’d be nothing without Jack. What good is a fan base if they’ve nowhere to go? Jack gave us somewhere to go.
Football was always a big thing in our house, my dad was a big Leeds fan, my brother a Liverpool supporter, me a Manchester United nut. But we could, and still do, always bond over Ireland.
On June 12, 1988, the day Ireland took on England in Stuttgart in the European Championships, my cousin’s daughter was getting Christened and we all headed to their house in Coolock to celebrate. It’s the picture you see here.
I remember all of us, everyone you see in that picture and more, huddled in their sitting room around the tiny TV before someone had the bright idea of turning the telly around and putting it in the window so we could all sit in the garden and watch it.
It was a gloriously sunny day and when Ray Houghton put the ball in the English net just seven minutes into the game, we erupted. We could hear screams and shouts coming from the houses around us too, some of the neighbours running outside so they could cheer even more loudly.
What followed was torture, until the final whistle went and we could enjoy victory over our bitter rivals.
If any of us thought Jack might feel a little uneasy about beating the country of his birth, the country he’d won the World Cup with, that was soon put to bed — he enjoyed it as much as anybody.
That was probably the game that catapulted the Irish team into the national consciousness. Until then, we’d scratched at the surface of international football, never really making any real impact.
Jack’s arrival changed all that. What he did wasn’t pretty, but it was effective. And he gave us so many more glorious days and nights.
Italia 90 is one of my abiding childhood memories. I was 11 and I remember where I was for every game. The same for USA 94. I started going to home matches with my dad in 1992 and have only missed a handful since, taking in a number of away games and tournaments along the way.
While Jack’s style of play didn’t endear the Republic of Ireland team to many abroad, the fans certainly did. The welcome we’ve had all over the world is testament to that.
About eight years ago, myself, my mam and some of my aunts were visiting my aunt Monica, who lives in Genoa, where Ireland played Romania on that incredible night in June 1990.
We were wandering around a market when Monica told me the Stadio Luigi Ferraris wasn’t far away, so I left them shopping and wandered down.
It wasn’t open and I was just walking around the outside peeking in any gates I could find, when a groundsman inside spotted me. He came over, speaking to me in Italian.
I told him I didn’t speak Italian and asked if he spoke English but he shook his head. He asked if I was from England and I said, ‘no, Irlanda’. His whole face lit up and he gestured for me to stay where I was.
He disappeared then came back with a bunch of keys, opened the gate and invited me in. I was gobsmacked and followed him into the stand.
He knew why I was there. He pointed at one end of the ground and simply said, ‘penalties’. Then he walked away and left me to take it all in, the scene of probably the greatest moment in Irish football history.
I have no idea how long this man had worked in this stadium but I’m sure he’d seen many great players and great matches.
Yet one word from me – ‘Irlanda’ – and he remembered that incredible night that probably meant nothing to him. But he knew what it meant to me.
Jack transcended football. My sister-in-law has often been left sitting clueless when our family gets into football debates and conversations. She has no interest and no desire to develop one. Yet when I saw her on Saturday, the first thing she said to me was, ‘Ah, poor Jack’. Everyone knew him. Everyone loved him.
He took our team to a level we never dared dream of, a level we’ve never achieved since. He brought joy and togetherness to the country at a time when there was little of that around.
He took my interest in football and elevated it to an obsession. And for that, I’ll always be truly grateful.
Rest easy Big Jack.