Politicians could learn much from our shrewd sporting gurus

WHAT A win by Ireland over the All Blacks.

Now I’ve never played rugby and wouldn’t know one end of an oval ball from the other but I have an opinion as to why we won and, as Roy Keane might say, I’m entitled to my opinion.

So was it down to superior fitness, mental fortitude, dominant pack, relentless defence or the hurt of 111 years? No, it was the strategical nous of Joe “Shrewd” Schmidt.

In the same way that the winning of a horse race is more determined by what happens in the first few furlongs than the eyecatching whips-cracking run to the line, this match was won before the kick-off; thanks to ear-plugs and the invocation of a fallen hero.

I have it on good authority that, before the teams took to the field, the Irish management gave the players ear-plugs. So they didn’t hear the horrific high-pitched rendering of Ireland’s Call on the fiddle and, when the All Blacks were busy doing the Haka, they formed themselves into the shape of a number 8 and silently invoked the spirit of Anthony Foley, who is quickly taking on the sort of mythical status last accorded to Cú Chulainn.

As for the game itself, an awful lot has been written about ABs losing their lineouts due to the enforced absence of first choice locks Brodie Retallick and Sam Whitelock. But surely it was that they just couldn’t hear the calls because their ears were still ringing from the fiddling.

Then there was that magic moment. In the 76th minute, us onlookers were suffering an awful sense of déjà vu, the All Blacks having cut a 22 point gap on 51 minutes to just four. It seemed fitting that it was No. 8 Jamie Heaslip who delivered the sweet pass to Robbie Henshaw to power his way over and seal a famous victory.

However, we hardly got a day of euphoria out of the win before the media was swamped with various stories of Donald Trump and public service unrest. On the domestic front, the really sad thing is that its no longer just a case of agitating against the government. Now everybody is attacking everybody else, feeling that they are being harder done by than anyone else – guards, teachers, nurses, junior doctors, younameits!

But this should hardly come as a surprise. People accepted pain on the promise that, when things turned around, they would feel that, too. Now many feel things are worse not better while the only certainty for the future is the stifling burden of debt our children will inherit.

The real kick in the guts is that many of the developers and others who were centre-stage in the country’s economic collapse now seem to be back in business, flourishing.

When I started writing this I thought I would be suggesting that Joe Schmidt should be parachuted in as Taoiseach. Within a few short weeks, he had united a group of men who, just before, had been knocking skelps off each other in the provincial derbies (as they do a couple of times every year).

So what happened so that they were now willing to lay down their lives for each other? Obviously, there’s personal ambition and the pride in the jersey. But this is a team game so there has to be teamwork. The other critical element is a sense of progress, moving in the right direction.

But then I realised this common objective is pie in the sky as far as Irish politics is concerned and that he, too, like many others who have sailed into this sphere on a wave of goodwill, would end up being chewed up and spit out, spent.

Jovial Joe is far more valuable as our national rugby coach.

One of the few times we are all united on the same side of the fence is when we are supporting a national team and, when they win, it’s a momentary escape from mundane reality.

So here’s hoping for more success. No pressure, Joe!