No joy at news of our Euros drive-by? I wonder why...
IT WOULD be a mistake to claim that the World Cup is not registering in France, but as the tournament arrows to its finest point and the action is sucked towards Paris, it is a fleeting diversion in a city of a million shimmering distractions. For those here supporting, or working on the competition, it feels like the centre of the world. But ours is a highly concentrated environment, and it intrudes, however colourfully, only briefly into the lives of those less connected.
The rivers of green that have flowed through the streets over the past month draw indulgent smiles, but harrumphs, too, as what should be a routine ride on a Saturday afternoon commuter train is turned into a conjurer’s trick by Ireland’s finest, as the impossibility of squeezing large groups into small spaces is energetically challenged.
After the matches, which start at 9pm local time, the late metros are a jarring mix of chic, drunk Parisian youth, and florid men, their spirits high but their jeans struggling to maintain that status, singing about Trevelyan’s corn, or belting out their half-learned versions of Zombie.
The underground runs until close to 2am, and once it finishes, fans are left to the usually futile business of flagging down taxis, or wandering, lost, peering into phones as sobriety starts to peep in around the edges of their mood.
It is on these occasions that the worlds of rugby and everyday French life glance off one another, but the contact is brief, invariably pleasant, and then forgotten by both parties.
There is nothing unusual about this, except that it belies the claims of organisers about the effect such competitions have on their host body.
This is where the dreaded word ‘legacy’ looms in. It is bandied about before every big event, be it in soccer, rugby or at the Olympics, a solemn promise of the long-term benefits that come to those who wait – after paying a fortune and putting up with head-melting disruptions to their cities and countries, that is.
Legacy has long since shown to be an illusory reward, but this is only part of the reason why the cachet of hosting big sports events has diminished so much. Another is cost, which is unjustifiable in the best of times, but in an age when much of the world is suffering a cost-of-living crisis, should be indefensible.
A new concern is the environmental impact of these projects, the consequence of people – like this columnist – flying in and out, as we marvel at how handy it is to hop back and forth to France, but also the result of the toll taken by massive construction projects, road upgrades and the other infrastructure improvements required of hosts.
This anxiety has been brought to a grotesque level by who else but FIFA, with their announcement that not only would Spain, Portugal and Morocco host the 2030 World Cup, but that opening matches would be played in Uruguay, Paraguay and Argentina, too.
The longer game of ensuring Saudi Arabia get to host in 2034 governed much of their manoeuvring, which is a reminder of another off-putting aspect of the hosts’ lot: the stomach-churning politics at play in such matters.
Some or all of these may help to explain why the news of Ireland’s successful part in the bid to host the 2028 European Championships has barely registered.
Just as the most extreme risks associated with winning such a bid are absent – the costs are relatively small – so is the public reception one might have anticipated.
There was a time when this award might have impressed us. And there was certainly a period when the FAI would have sold it with hysterical overreach.
The statement released by Jonathan Hill, the CEO of the FAI welcoming the news, contained the contention that ‘qualification for any major tournament can realise anything between €10-€15million of increased revenue via participation and commercial bonus payments so hosting these six proposed games is a solid starting point for both our sporting and financial ambitions for 2028 and beyond’ highlights not just the value of the tournament, but actually qualifying for it, which isn’t guaranteed.
That’s a practical obstacle Irish teams usually find impossible to overcome.
Maybe that’s why there has been no short-term rush of triumph, or even happiness.
The dull atmosphere in the Aviva on Friday night as the Stephen Kenny era gasped to a close was a pungent reminder of where we are at.
Maybe people know that Irish soccer has more pervasive challenges, and that passing contact with grand occasions isn’t much use at all.