Englishman stole hearts of a nation
THE death of former the Republic of Ireland football manager Jack Charlton calls to mind a decade, from 1986 to 1996, which marked monumental change in Irish society, associated in the history books with the development of the peace process in Northern Ireland to the birth of the Celtic Tiger, two events which has been linked by some to the appointment of the first-ever Englishman to take charge of the national football team. While the extent of the reality behind those claims can be debated — and there seems little doubt the man himself would have disregarded his influence in a typically direct manner — there is no doubt his impact on the national psyche was profound and wholly positive, and for that, the nation shall forever remain deeply indebted to the man affectionately known the length and breadth of the country as Big Jack.
In the public imagination, Charlton will be more immediately associated with the excitement and fun, the joie the vivre, related to the country’s qualification for the first time for the finals of the European Football Championships in 1988 and the subsequent World Cup finals in 1990 and 1994. Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive. For people of a certain generation, memories of those occasions will be forever seared in the consciousness. It is undisputed that the national mood soared at the time to levels never before witnessed, and that a feeling of confidence developed as though the spirit of the nation reflected the manner in which the team played on the international stage. “You’ll never beat the Irish,” became the raucous chant on the terraces and, by and large, that determination and resolve developed a meaningful resonance in the lives of its citizens. The Boys in Green allowed a genuinely warm pride not only in the national jersey but in the tricolour as well, which flew with great distinction from Stuttgart to the Giants Stadium in New York and at all points in between.
Those days were not without their controversies of the kind which outraged and enraptured in equal measure. For purists, the style of football developed by Charlton was at odds with the stuff of guile and charm, the street football of working class Dublin taken with panache on a mail boat to 1950s England via Dalymount Park. There was some merit in the argument. Big Jack’s favoured style was altogether different, more robust and direct like the man himself, hewn of the coalmines and rugged traditions of the north of England. In truth, in their pomp and ceremony, the players of that time managed to marry the two traditions somewhat, applying no little skill and style of their own to the template as laid down by Charlton, which might now be referred to as “pressure football”, nowadays widely lauded as an integral part of the modern game, albeit more refined in practice. As such, it could be argued that Big Jack was a man ahead of his times.
In Ireland, there is no doubt he was the right man at the right time, as much for his personality as his footballing nous. His manner appealed to the Irish personality: a blunt-talking Geordie but never wantonly cruel, with a twinkle in his eye and always possessed of a keen sense of mischief and fun; he was man of the land, noted as a keen fisherman and a lover of other rural pursuits, with a healthy appetite for a comfortable meal, a good drink or two and frequently seen with a cigar in hand. It was these qualities of his character, as much as anything else, which brought him close to the hearts of the people who adopted him. So it made sense when he was awarded honorary Irish citizenship at the end of his tenure, as well as being made a Freeman of Dublin and given an honorary doctorate. These were honours he accepted with great humility and pride.
His grieving family should know, however, as surely the man himself must have, that pride in his achievements was a twoway street. Never has a football manager been held in such great affection by the Irish people, or an ordinary man in such esteem for the manner in which he made the country and its citizens feel less ordinary. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.