Passion makes up for a lack of quality

FOR close to half an hour of the game there was very little to recommend it. Plenty blood, sweat and tears (of those watching mostly) and not much else. This was very much perspiration over inspiration stuff.

Coming as it did in the middle of a thrilling Premier League season, people couldn’t really be blamed for wondering aloud about the continued relevance of the international game.

These international qualifier games don’t have the glitz and glamour of the Premier League that’s for sure. The razzmatazz is spared for the summer months at two year intervals. A World Cup qualifier in Vienna in November really doesn’t compare. It’s more like eating your greens than gorging on a cornucopia of tournament football.

After an early Viennese surge, the Irish soon found their footing to leave the Austrians floundering somewhat. Being brutally honest, neither team looked like world beaters. The quality of football was such as to leave you close enough to the pits of despair.

At times like this it really is a poor substitute for the club game. Compared to the high octane fizz of a Liverpool at their best this was pedestrian at best. Compared to the finesse of an Arsenal neither team came anywhere close. Neither team played with the tactical sophistication of a Manchester City. There was good honest endeavour, just not a whole pile else.

That the Austrians occasionally engaged in histrionics, which wouldn’t be out of place in one or other of the world famous opera houses elsewhere in the city, added to a growing frustration.

Then, almost out of nowhere, we got a couple of moments of real class to jolt us from our complacency. First Marcel Sabitzer dinked the ball wonderfully over Darren Randolph, only to find the crossbar.

A real let off for Ireland and one that seemed to spur them into action. A rush of blood to the head can do wonders. Moments later Wes Hoolahan played a wonderful little deft flick to Robbie Brady and his fellow Dubliner squared it for Jon Walters.

From just about four or five yards in front of goal the big man headed over. A glorious opportunity for Ireland to steal a lead they scarcely deserved. Sure Austria weren’t exactly pulling up trees, but they were the ones more often than not trying to make something happen.

From the earlier gloom that minute or two just before the half-time break provided a real glimmer of hope, the briefest of remembrances of what international football is all about. It’s about your heartrate rising, it’s about blood pumping through the veins that little bit faster.

And that’s the thing to remember. It’s not necessarily about the things we think we care about. It’s not about ascetics or sophistication. International football’s appeal is much more baser than that.

It grabs you on a much more visceral level. It’s about a tribal identity. It’s an ‘us against the world’ type of patriotism that motivates like nothing else. Granted the events of the past week ought to make us very suspicious of patriotism and nationalism.

You might recall that the English philosopher Samuel Johnson described such forces as the last refuge of the scoundrel – in this instance, however, in these circumstances, we’re more likely to see such nationalism as a cause for good, for bringing people together instead of dividing them.

For everybody who watched the second half and saw what unfolded there was a common point of reference and, as it turned out, pride. Five minutes into the half Ireland scored a goal of real and rare quality, raising the roof in most homes around the country in the procress.

Cork man David Meyler brushed off an Austrian in attack to find Wes Hoolahan. Hoolahan with the vision he’s possessed of picked out James McClean to finish powerfully past Ramazan Özcan.

From a place where Ireland looked unlikely or unwilling to put together a sustained period of possession and dominance in the first half, Ireland came out of the blocks for the second half to perform at a level they haven’t since the Euros.

Away from home against a higher ranked nation this was stirring stuff by Martin O’Neill’s men. This was the first real evidence we’d seen that the high water mark of the performances against Italy and France from last summer could be matched again outside of that environment.

Certainly the group had been positive for Ireland before last Saturday. The results had gone our way. The performances did leave scope for improvement and that’s no criticism of players or management.

If anything it’s a compliment. As it as when we say that Ireland made life more difficult for themselves in the last half an hour than strictly was necessary. Some habits die hard of course. Ireland retreated into their shells too much, allowed the hosts to take the initiative and gave a nervous nation the jitters on more than one occasion. Still these were three well-deserved points.

A two point lead at the top of the group table is a fitting reward. Out of the gloom of the first half a silver-lining we can all be proud of.

Hope springs eternal.