Ireland’s Italian job will live long in the memory
LAST Wednesday’s 1-0 win over Italy in Lille was absolutely magical.
It was a bit like Italia 90, USA ‘94 and 2002 in Japan & Korea all rolled into one. I’d almost forgotten the magical formula of big-time knockout tournament.
The simmering tension, the nail-biting pressure, the building excitement and, finally, the downright euphoria.
Crushing disappointment would be for another occasion - but not tonight.
Martin O’Neill and his sidekick Roy Keane (if anyone could ever refer to the Corkman as such) rolled the dice with team selection.
This was an aggressive play. A new line-up and lots of new faces.
An aggressive selection demanded an aggressive approach. And that’s exactly what we got.
Captain for the night Seamus Coleman set the tone with a crunching early tackle ala Roy Keane on Marc Overmars in 2001. Immediately the depleted Italians knew this was going to be a tough night.
Ireland were excellent in the opening half and were denied a stone wall penalty when McClean was bundled over just yards from the Romanian referee.
We had enough of the ball to be ahead at the break but the breakthrough never came. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be our night. You could sense the anxiety creeping into our play.
The fans then went into overdrive. Their relentless chanting and singing inspired the team to even greater effort.
The platform was set. McGeady and Hoolahan replaced the exhausted Murphy and McCarthy and we were set for one final push. Wise men will tell you that you always get one chance in these type of games. One opportunity to win it. And so it appeared to pan out as Hoolahan found himself with only the keeper to beat following an Italian defensive blunder.
‘The right man has it’ I told myself as the diminutive Dubliner bore down on goal. But he scuffed his shot tamely at Sirigu’s midriff and the chance was gone.
The entire country collapsed back into their sofas (or fell off their bar stool) and heaved a heavy sigh. That was it – we were gone.
But wait. Here we come again. Hoolahan has had enough disappointments in his career. Within 40 seconds of that miss he curls a delightful cross onto Robbie Brady’s head and we score.
Cue the hysteria and mayhem of footballing heaven. A new generation of football fans have been born.
It was almost too much that we should go to Lyon four days later to take on the hosts. Similarities were drawn to the 1990 penalty shootout victory over Romania and then heading to Rome to face the Italians.
The fixture makers ensured the French were well rested from the group stages and they got the lions share of the ticket allocation. Surely we deserved better on both counts.
But despite these obvious inequalities we approached the game with renewed confidence. We tore into them from the off and were ahead within seconds as Shane Long was taken down by Pogba. Robbie Brady dispatched the spotkick with aplomb off the post and we were on our way.
However the tank was running on empty in the early stages of the second half and Antoine Griezman punished us twice in as many minutes. The Athletico Madrid striker will be remembered on T-shirts for years to come just like another previous nemesis Toto Schilacci.
Our interest in the competition lasted for less than a fortnight but it’s been one hell of a roller coaster ride. What possibly can replace this excitement for the remainder of the summer?
STICK
SHANE Lowry has come in for a little bit of stick during the last week since he passed up that great US Open winning opportunity at Oakmount.
Various journalists from both home and abroad have weighed in with their tuppence ha’penny worth to explain the Offalyman’s poor performance in the final round.
Overweight, out of condition, in poor physical shape and unable to haul that bulk around the course was the general gist of why ‘the experts’ felt Lowry lost out.
If he wanted to go to the next level, they advised cutting out the pints and curries, hitting the gym and basically changing his whole lifestyle.
But we tend to love the mavericks, the ordinary every-man stars who put more trust in their natural skills and talents than personal trainers or nutritionists.
Some sports lend themselves to a laid back approach and dare I say it, a portly demeanour. Fortunately golf is still one of those sports where the non-conformist can excel.
Golf has always had a place for the likes of a John Daly, Craig Sadler or Miguel Angel Jimenez, mercurial pros whose idea of pregame stretching involves reaching for a beer or a cigar.
The era of the rounded red faced sportsman may be rapidly diminishing but most fans still love to look at the big guy ripping a long drive down the fairway or sticking a mesmerising approach close to the pin and think: you know if I practise a bit more and cut down on the pints and curries, that could be me out there!
Way to go Shane – your time will come.