Dublin rejection, rugby affection and a constant quest for balance
McCarthy was not one of the Championship’s three best players
ANOTHER week of deep enlightenment draws to a close, with the marketplace for sporting opinions elevated by the standards of respect and logic that distinguished the exchanges.
And there are indeed places where differences of opinion about the national rugby team or the footballer-of-the-year shortlist are measured and conducted at a temperature well below boiling point, but these exchanges are sotto voce compared to the bellows that dominate public discussion.
Most of us can entertain competing ideas. We can recognise that the Rugby World Cup is too long, but also a brilliant competition that has featured gripping pool clashes as well as hopeless mismatches.
We can see that James McCarthy is an inspirational footballer who, with Stephen Cluxton and Michael Fitzsimons, has achieved on a scale unmatched in football history.
McCarthy’s patchy displays in the All-Ireland series, with his influence sporadic in the last eight, the semi-final and in the final, also support his exclusion from the shortlist for footballer of the year.
He is, in history’s broader sweep, a figure of importance, but in the shorter-term frame of this year’s Championship, he was not one of its three best players.
This is a reality that easily withstands the distorting effects of social media outrage, where a section of Dublin supporters manage to transmit both domineering joy and furious victimhood.
This is their second eruption in less than three months. In the immediate aftermath of the football final, with absurd claims being made for the performance of Fitzsimons in marking David Clifford, the merest suggestion that the Dublin defender did no more than cling on for survival in the company of an uncommonly gifted talent, drew a blue storm.
But it was true. The hysteria was fanned by some former Dublin players who have found their tongues as pundits, as well as some silly cheerleading in certain media outlets.
This skewed analysis ignored not only the problems Clifford caused his marker, but also the circumstances of his late misses. They were notable not for the unbearable pressure applied by a defender, but for uncharacteristically rash decision-making by such a good player.
None of that is to slight Fitzsimons, whose playing abilities are matched by his endurance, as he remained an established defender into his mid-30s, after struggling for a time in his 20s to be a regular starter in the Dublin back-line.
But as in the case of McCarthy in recent days, he is done no favours by his champions.
The rugby discussion has been lighter, because the arguments have been more ridiculous. The one around Zombie being sung after Ireland matches in France is ridiculous, with the perpetually disgruntled alighting on a new cause and twisting what is actually happening to fit a divisive political standpoint.
Just as entertaining has been the criticism of the team, the tournament, and the game. It is easier to listen to those who don’t try to hide their prejudice than those who employ chin-stroking and concerns about tournament formats to sustain their case.
There are those who simply dislike rugby and don’t try and dress up their distaste with something as outlandish as an argument.
Well, it’s an opinion.
Then there is the contention that there is a thrilling tournament
ready to break out if only there weren’t so many minnows. The beatings doled out to some of the second-tier nations have served no useful purpose, for the victors or the vanquished, and the ambitions of World Rugby to extend the tournament to 24 teams for the 2027 edition will need serious explaining.
To imply that this is a particular issue for the Rugby World Cup is daft, though; pool stages of tournaments are shot through with unfair fixtures. One alternative is to limit participation to competitive sides, as is the case with the inter-county hurling championship. As a way of growing a game, though, this approach is unconvincing.
The length of the tournament has also drawn scorn, and it’s true that at almost two months long, it is a drag. Yet expecting teams in such a gruelling sport to play more than once a week is irresponsible, even with the adverse impact this has on building tension.
None of these details affected enjoyment of the match against South Africa – for anyone willing to
let themselves be thrilled, that is.
Nor does a person need a deep affection for rugby to appreciate the standards being reached by a group of professional sportsmen in the name of Ireland.
It’s okay to ignore them, too. It’s called choice, and it’s still allowed, despite what you might have heard.
THAT the Ryder Cup provides thrilling action is undeniable, as is the fact that much of its entertainment is a consequence of how it is broadcast.
To see elite sportspeople in competition is fascinating, but the shadow of LIV, mostly unaddressed in the breathless
coverage, is tempering the enjoyment of this viewer.
Golf at its elite end has sold out to the most aggressive and sophisticated sports-washing operation in history, which made the taunting of those absent this week vacuous.
They’ll be back in Europe’s colours in two years’ time.