Interviewing Niall Quinn.

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment
Niall Quinn. Irish Football Great.

Sunday. Niall said ring today to arrange something. Ring Niall. No answer. Wait a few hours. Ring again. Same result. Send text. No answer by bed-time. Lie awake and fret.

     Monday morning. Ring Niall again. This time he answers after three rings. He apologises, wasn’t near his phone all yesterday. Phew. Arrange to meet up Tuesday at 2pm in the Shelbourne Hotel in Dublin. Thank Niall, hang up. Make mental note to find out where the Shelbourne is. Meet classmates. Tell them the good news. Told the Shelbourne is a fancy 5-star hotel.

Could get used to this.

     Go shopping for a fancy 5-star shirt. In Penneys. Success.
     Tuesday morning. Get bus to Dublin. Not just any bus. Double decker. Sit up top, as you do. Arrive in Dublin at midday. Time to kill. Head up to the Shelbourne to book a room for the interview. Walk in. Doorman posh. Receptionist posh. Act posh. Funny looks. Book room. Leave hotel minus one arm and one leg. An hour and a half to the interview.
     In bathroom in Stephen’s Green shopping centre, realise the reason for the funny looks. Forgot to take piercings. Eyebrow bar not in the unwritten Shelbourne dress code.
     Sit in Stephen’s Green watching ducks, eating a banana. Realise those people who call journalism glamorous are liars. 
     Twenty to two. Back to hotel. Staff very nice. Shown up to the room by the banquet manager. Room is huge. Table and two chairs like an island in the middle of a carpet ocean. Set up recording equipment. Niall rings. He’s stuck in traffic, he’ll be there as soon as he can. Hope he is, room only booked for an hour.
     Back down to the lobby to wait for the big man. Sit on comfortable, expensive looking couch. Weigh up whether or not it’s bad manners to greet Niall while chewing gum. Decide it isn’t the best first impression. Look around. No bin in sight. Consider sticking wad to underside of expensive couch. Consider this risky. Surrender to inevitable and stick it in pocket.
     Talk to doorman. Nice man. Not as posh as first impressions would suggest. Likes his job. Goes to do it again. Left alone. Quarter past two. Begin feeling faint from hunger. Remember banana is the only food consumed all day. Conclude that passing out while interviewing Niall Quinn may be detrimental to career in sportswriting.
     Remember big bowl of cookies on reception counter. Make up an excuse to approach reception. Ask baffled receptionist banal question about paying for the room. Given same answer as earlier. Unimportant. Cookies are in arm’s reach. Important. Take only one. Better to be discreet. Scuttle back to expensive couch, prize in hand
     Take a bite. Raisin cookies. Never as disappointed. Refuse to eat rest, out of respect for chocolate chip. Left with same problem as with chewing gum. No bin. Quinn’s arrival imminent. Chewing gum one thing, shaking hands with a legend of Irish football and getting melted cookie all over his suit sleeve another entirely. Sigh deeply, stick cookie in pocket to keep chewing gum company. Make mental note to burn trousers. 
     Here’s Niall. Too busy worrying about rapidly dissolving cookie to be starstruck. Friendly man, declines chance to get food. Offers to head straight up to the room to do the interview. Discuss Tipperary hurling on the way. Knows his stuff. 
Get to the room. Pour two glasses of water. Apologise in advance for asking about Saipan. Put on headphones and press record. The next 45 minutes fly. 
Interview will be posted up soon.

Goal-line technology… What’s the point?

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment
Kettering to get goal-line technology? Probably not.

“Mathematical jiggery pokery.” That’s how Liam Kilmartin, lecturer in the Electronic Engineering Department described the process behind developing goal-line technology at a talk in NUIG on Tuesday the 16th of January.
In the course of an hour long talk, Kilmartin explained how the various technologies work, including the much talked about Hawk-Eye and the less talked about Cairos system. The latter is an in-ball system currently being developed in association with Adidas.
Kilmartin himself is well placed to speak on such matters. He was part of a team who were given the task between 1996 and 1999 to develop a viable “point score detection technology” for the GAA. And develop they did. However there were a few sticking points; the cameras used were too slow, for one. The GAA themselves weren’t exactly full of alternative ideas however. Making the goalposts higher, anyone? In the end nothing was done.
Not long after the project was disbanded, a small English company, Roke Manor Research, had a patent for a system not dissimiliar to the one Kilmartin et al had developed. Its name was Hawk-Eye, the name now eponymous with any discussion on goal-line technology.
On the 2nd April last, in a National Hurling League game between Dublin and Kilkenny in Croke Park, Hawk-Eye was given a trial run. It worked. The system is very accurate, very sophisticated, and very, very expensive. There is a need for Hawk-Eye engineers to be in every stadium where the technology is installed.
Therefore the system is not viable across the board, and if it was only to be available in Croke Park what type of message would that send out? The only games that matter occur in GAA HQ? Frequenters of Semple Stadium, Pairc Ui Caoimh and Pearse Stadium, to name but a few, would have something to say about that.
Across the pond, the English FA has the same problem. Sure, the majority of Premier League clubs could take the financial hit, install Hawk-Eye and have engineers on site. But, as Mr Kilmartin said, what happens in the FA Cup when the likes of Manchester United are drawn to play someone like Kettering? If the tie is in Old Trafford, is Hawk-Eye used? If the tie is in err…. Kettering’s home field, is Hawk-Eye installed so as to keep things on an even keel? Probably not.
Unless goal-line technology can be used both in the most majestic stadiums in the world and installed in the jumpers children use as goalposts, then sport will lose its universality, and the gap between professional athletes and those who support them and dream of emulating them will widen.
Additionally, if the situation did arise that Hawk-Eye was implemented at a professional level, what would happen when it fails the first time? No system is fail-safe. If the media works itself into such a furore when a referee makes a mistake, imagine what would transpire if Hawk-Eye failed, even once. There would be calls for the camera to resign.  Ex-camera’s would appear on TV to criticise the camera’s decision. The camera would be demoted to monitoring the goalposts at pub matches.
Let’s face it, we like controversy.
Anyway, if there were no more controversial goals, what would we have to debate in the pub? What would Liam, Eamonn, and Johnny have to argue about on RTE? A world with perfect sport is not a perfect world.
I suppose we’d still have the offside rule.
First published on Studenty
(Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

Running Man

/ Alan Keane / 1 Comment
An artist’s depiction of me mid-run.

Let me just be clear from the outset, I despise running. I’m not averse to pegging it after a bus, or chasing a ball around a football field, but to my mind running in those cases is part of something, a means to an end. But, running from point A to point B, and turning back again? Taxi!
Be that as it may, I’ve heard tell that it’s quite beneficial in the whole health and fitness area, so yesterday I made a late New Year’s resolution to get out there and start pounding the pavement. My housemate decided he’d do the same, which led us to the events of yesterday evening…
Now, Blue Monday may not have been the best day to start a New Year’s resolution, but by the end of our exertions it was certainly apt in my case, as my face had turned blue from a combination of the cold and the lack of oxygen.
In the little research I did yesterday afternoon before we set off, I was led to understand that your warm-up is crucial. I probably should have read on, because I’m starting to feel that the running website didn’t mean stand in front of the fire for 5 minutes before you set off.
Apparently, it’s also important to have your route clearly mapped out in your head before you set off. Visualisation technique and all that. Ha! Not so for myself and my housemate. We walked out the door, shrugged our shoulders and set off towards Salthill. I for one was convinced Salthill was a mere 2km from our house near Sally Longs pub, but having checked it post-run, it turns out to be 4. Which means the nice easy distance we thought we were undertaking was actually doubled. An 8k run probably isn’t the recommended starting point for a fitness programme!
The first leg of the run was unproblematic. We flew along the river path as far as Spanish Arch. I kept thinking, “This ain’t so bad!”. We stopped for some stretches. My housemate actually did some. I shadowboxed. We set off again, and suddenly it was as if I was sliding backwards. My housemate was getting further and further away from me. He reached Knocknacarra a good minute or two before I did. He stopped to “stretch again”, but I think he was just concerned that I had fallen down a hole or had turned around and went home. Both were viable in fairness.
I sat down for a second after stretching. Not recommended. It was hard to get back up. When we pushed off again, it was the same story. My housemate was off like a bullet and I was left picking my way through the crowds of people out walking and jogging. I thought to myself, “Pah! New Year’s resolution saps! The weak among ye will be weeded out within weeks”. And then, “What excuse can I give my housemate so I never have to do this again?”
My housemate was out of sight at this stage. He smokes. Passing the aquarium I found myself wishing I smoked so I could have an excuse for my abysmal run. I was actually making involuntary yelping noises the last 5oo metres. A pack of stray dogs was following me, thinking I was a bitch in heat. Down by the famous diving board I caught up with my housemate. Well, by catching up with him I mean he’d stopped. He’d been there two minutes and was ready to go again. No Saving Private Ryan heroics here, I told him to head on home, I needed a breather. Being honest, I needed an oxygen tank.
Smug, gloating little….
Now you might not believe me, but I tried to run a fast time home. I really did. But there was a young girl, maybe 9 years old, who passed me out. And passing me out wasn’t enough for this sadistic jezebel, oh no! She ran on a few hundred metres, stopped to “tie her laces” until I had passed her out again. Then when I had gone on a few hundred metres, she’d sail past me again. Kids these days… Out running when they could be eating fast food or playing computer games.
Feeling woof. 
Somewhere along the way home, I passed a kindred spirit. There was a dog who sounded like he was coughing up a hairball. He looked like how I felt.
I power walked the last 500 metres home. Power here is a relative term. The alternative was standby mode, where I’d just plonk myself on the nearest convenient bench and hail a taxi.
My housemate had showered and eaten by the time I fell in the door.
And the mental thing is that I plan to do it all again tomorrow. Turns out running is addictive!
Note: This article would have been written last night, but my laptop was upstairs in my room, and after the run, stairs were an issue. I slept on the couch.
photos: wikimedia commons

Hope to Heartache and Back. A Review of Ireland’s Sporting Year

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment
Sport transcended itself in 2011 for this small island country. It became more than a form of entertainment, it became hope, transubstantiated in Katie Taylor’s boxing glove, Richard Dunne’s boots, and Sean O’Brien’s hands as we watched him steamroll yet another unfortunate opponent.

Did Northampton throw it away? Leinster sure didn’t.
     Barrack Obama came to Ireland at the end of May, and he told us something most of us needed to hear. “Is féidir linn”, or for non gaelgoirs, “Yes We Can”. Of course, Leinster already knew that. It must have been their mantra when, three days before the American President touched down on Irish soil, they found themselves 16 points down to Northampton in the Heineken Cup final in Cardiff. In the second half, inspired by Jonathon Sexton, the Blues scored 27 unanswered points to win their second Heineken Cup final, and join the pantheon of Heineken Cup legends including Munster.
     The men in red did not have a great start to the year, crashing out of the Heineken Cup at the pool stages for the first time in 13 years. But the mantra inscribed on the collar of Munster jerseys is not there on a whim. “To the brave and the faithful, nothing is impossible”. Written off before the new Heineken Cup even got under way, they sit top of their pool heading into the new year, with four wins and no defeats to their name. They’ve left it late in some games, but when Ronan O’Gara is on the pitch, that’s not even an issue.
He will be missed
     The national team’s year went from the most inauspicious of starts – with a disappointing Six Nations and some abysmal World Cup warm-up games – to the elation of beating Australia and the subsequent bubble being burst by Wales in the quarter-finals. Ireland may never have a better chance of reaching a Rugby World Cup final, but their journey to the last eight was enough to give the Irish people at home and abroad a lift. There’s a new generation of Irish diaspora growing across the world since the country went belly up, and it seems that the majority of them were in New Zealand to cheer on O’Driscoll et al. Handmade signs like “Ma, send over me dole money!” brightened up the early hours of autumn Irish mornings as much as the Irish team themselves did. This year also saw the retirement of John Hayes.  There’s not much that hasn’t been said about the man, except maybe that he’s diminutive in stature and lacks modesty. In all seriousness however, the Cappamore man will be remembered in high regard by rugby fans across the country for his often unsung work in the red and green of Munster and Ireland respectively

Richard Dunne, our very own “Iron Curtain”.
      The Irish football team weren’t to be outdone by the rugby team this year. As the Irish nation came down from the collective high we experienced watching their rugby counterparts, Trappatoni’s men decided they couldn’t allow us to feel low for too long. Queue qualifiying for a major tournament for the first time in 10 years, and for the European Championships for the first time in 24. In Moscow in September, Richard Dunne evoked the spirit of Paul McGrath as he single-handedly kept the Russians at bay for 90 minutes. When we drew Estonia in the play-offs, we dared to dream. Yet it wasn’t until the 4-0 win in the away leg did fans begin to plan their trip to next years tournament in Poland. When the draw for the group stages took place in December, we got Spain, Croatia and Italy. What hope we had faded, and the consensus is that Ireland are just happy to be in the tournament. Good. Coming in under the radar and upsetting a few of the big boys is how Ireland’s football teams have always operated.
     These were the stories which gained the most column inches in the back pages of newspapers this year, but the sporting odyssey was not confined to rugby and football. In hurling, a Kilkenny drubbing of Tipperary in September’s All Ireland final was enough to shut the mouths of all the nay-sayers who said the Black and Amber were finished. Didn’t they realise that Cats have nine lives? In Gaelic football, there was a small matter of Dublin winning their first senior All-Ireland since 1995. A lot was said after the game against Kerry, but it was the choice of match-winner Stephen Cluxton to say nothing at all that generated much of the debate.
     And finally, we come to the individual sportspeople who did much to lift the gloom in Ireland this year. In a year where Tiger Woods made his golfing comeback, Rory McIlroy was the real story. His melt-down at the Masters in Augusta led to many writing him off. When he blew the competition out of the water in the US open two months later, his detractor’s pens ran out of ink.
     One woman stands alone as this country’s most consistent performer at the highest level of sport. Katie Taylor this year won two European gold medals to add to her impressive tally. She now has enough gold in reserve to bail out the Irish banks. However, the biggest contribution Taylor could make to this country is to bring home Olympic gold next summer. If her performances this year are anything to go by, that won’t be a problem.
     It’s been a busy year in Irish sport. Forget the bad moments, savour the good. When you wake up tomorrow it starts all over again. 2011 was a good year, but 2012 has potential to be great. Happy New Year!
First published on Studenty.me on 31st December 2011.
Images: Brian O’Driscoll (telegraph.co.uk)
                 Richard Dunne (whoateallthepies.tv)
                 John Hayes (joe.ie) 

Crouching Tiger… The Engaging Story of Matt Hampson

/ Alan Keane / 1 Comment
Matt Hampson

You survey the wreckage that is your living room on Christmas morning. The gaudiness of the wrapping paper belies the dullness of the gifts. A DVD? Seen it. Clothes? Don’t like them. Christmas morning is hell.
     For those of you who feel this way, a bit of perspective please. Now this is not a piece dedicated to making you feel guilty about over-indulging on turkey this Christmas period while children starve in the third-world. We’ve all heard Do They Know It’s Christmas?
     This, rather, is a heads up on just how lucky you are, to be able to unwrap your presents yourself. Feel free to over-indulge all you want this Christmas, but if you for a second feel like self-indulging, think of one man.
Matt Hampson was an u-21 England Rugby international when a scrummaging accident in training led to his being paralyzed from the neck down. Long story short, he now cannot breathe independently, is destined to life in a wheelchair, and is a beacon of hope to all who have suffered similar spinal injuries.
A must read

     For the long version of the story, read Engage, the book written by Paul Kimmage. There is no detail spared in this, the williamhill.com Irish Sports Book of the year. In the afterword, Kimmage admits to pushing Hampson in interviews for the book further than a 21 year old quadriplegic ever should be pushed. It shows. The reader is taken into the darkest recesses of the young man’s mind. The endless nights of insomnia while in hospital, nothing to see save the rectangle of ceiling above his bed, nothing to hear bar the gentle whoosh of his ventilator. Hampson never stopped counting those whooshes.
     It’s not just a story of one man’s struggle. Through transcripts of the inquiry into Hampson’s injury we see the toll that it took on his family and his just blossoming relationship. The book is dedicated to the memory of Stuart Mangan, a young man from Cork who suffered a similar injury playing rugby. Hampson found in him an inspirational ally on his road to accepting his own fate. The positive outlook the Fermoy man showed before his untimely death at the age of 26 served to enhance Hampson’s strength of character.
     Other characters in Matt’s journey serve to show the importance of hope and belief to the preservation of the human spirit. The reader is introduced to Matt Grimes and Paul Taiano. Without delving into the details of the book to much, suffice to say both embody the Adidas adage that “Impossible is Nothing”.
Ronan O’Gara and Roy Keane’s single-mindedness. Paul Kimmage’s candour. Paul McGrath’s tragic flaws. In the pantheon of great sporting biographies, the sad aspect of Engage is that its subject never got a sporting chance.
     Matt Hampson’s story is a breath of fresh air which will blast away the cobwebs of self-indulgence in anyone this Christmas. There’s plenty of references to bowels, but no bullshit. Matt’s story doesn’t end on the 395th page of Engage,he continues to be an inspiration to able-bodied and disabled alike.
     Full after Christmas dinner today – in the hope of staving off a food-induced coma – I decided to read the first few pages of Engage on merit of the good things I had heard about it since its publication. Two litres of tea, three helpings of chocolate pudding and several hours later, I’m done. I wouldn’t recommend making tea while reading a book that is literally unputdownable. The minor scalds were worth it. Read this book.
www.matthampsonfoundation.org
images: newstalk.ie (both)

 (First Published 25th December 2011 on Studenty.me)

Dear Santa…

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment
Hmmm… Lionel O’Messi?

Dear Santa,
I’ve been so well behaved all year. I even watched Ireland play football without complaining one little bit. So for Christmas this year I’d like something extra special. Before you have your elves wrap Georgia Salpa, I’ve got a few other things in mind. You can skip my house this year, because these are gifts you can’t put under the Christmas tree.
I’ll start small. I’d like Declan Kidney to take some risks with his squad for the Six Nations. Some of Ireland’s best young talent deserve a chance to show what they can do. Santa, I’ve seen you in the crowd at Munster matches, so I know you know your stuff. If you can work your magic and get Peter O’Mahony in the Ireland squad next year then Ireland might have a solution to their problem at number 7.
Now, I don’t know how well up you are on FIFA rules and regulations, but I think the general gist is that anything is possible if you know the right people. If you could have a word in Mr Blatter’s ear and see to it that Lionel Messi is registered as an Irish player for the European Championships, I’d really appreciate it. Failing that, could you just ask Trappatoni to give James McCarthy and Seamus Coleman a chance to show their worth?
Now for the big one. I’d like another one of those Tipperary versus Kilkenny games on the first Sunday of September. You may remember, it used to be called the All Ireland Hurling Final once upon a time. Now write this down Santa, because it’s very important… I want next year’s game to be a repeat of 2010’s final. No-one wants to see a repeat of this year’s result. Well, no-one outside Kilkenny.
Actually Santa, please do stop at my house. If you could get me a seat on a Ryanair flight to Poland next year that would be great. I know your magic can only stretch so far though, so if you could even give me a lift on your sleigh next June I’d take it. If you’re not busy of course.
Regards to Mrs Claus.
Alan 

Don’t Go Booking Return Flights From Poland Just Yet….

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment

How nice of UEFA. Every team gets a cheery “good luck” in their native language, except for Ireland. UEFA General Secretary Infantini forgets at first, and then when he remembers, all he’s learnt is “Fáilte”. We don’t get good luck, we get “Welcome”. Be happy to be here, intrepid Irish footballers, luck won’t get you much further. Back to the Gaeltacht with you Mr Infantini.

Go n-eiri… Go n-eiri… Ah feck it (Pic:telegraph.com)

Spain, Italy, Ireland and Croatia in Group C. Not quite the Group of Debt, and perhaps most importantly, not quite the Group of Death either. That dubious honour goes to Group B, where Netherlands, Germany, Portugal and Denmark square off.
So what of Ireland’s chances? Once you’ve picked yourself  off the floor, think rationally for a second. Croatia are first up, on June 10th in Poznan. There is undoubted quality in this Croatian side – 8th in the latest Fifa Rankings – with the Spurs triumvarate of Modric, Kranjcar, and Corluka prominent. Up front Slaven Bilic can take his pick of the former Arsenal striker Eduardo, Bayern Munich’s Ivica Olic and Hamburger’s Mladen Petric. The Boys in Green met Croatia recently in a scoreless friendly in the Aviva, and the Balkan side will hold no terror for Trappatoni’s men. 
Modric. Midfield Maestro (myfootballfacts.com)
The current Spanish team is like a good boxer. They hold all the belts. Reigning World and European champions, they could field their second team and still have a decent chance in next summer’s competition. If, true to form, Trappatoni chooses Andrews and Whelan as his central midfield partnership next year, then they will be up against the superlative Barcelona pair of Iniesta and Xavi. There is no point in saying that this will be anything less than a horrendous mismatch of styles, but neither is there any denying that the Irish pair wil not be found wanting for effort around the middle of the park.At the back, Richard Dunne would want to don the same number 5 jersey he wore in Moscow as he will face the might of David Villa and the enigma that is Fernando Torres. The hope for Ireland is that this game is book-ended by two positive results against the Croats and Italians.
Time For The Rosary Beads (conversationcircles.sg)
In the last 3 meetings between Ireland and Italy, there have been two competitive draws (both in the last World Cup Qualifying Campaign) and a win for an understrength Irish team in a friendly in Italian soil. Italy are largely dependent on veteran Alessandro Pirlo to dictate the way they play, and there is little to fear up front either. Guiseppi Rossi is perhaps the most potent of their strike force, and the Villarreal man is out with a long term injury. He might make it onto the plane to Poland, but whether or not he will be match sharp is another thing entirely. The last time Ireland played Italy in a major championship, Paul McGrath immortalised himself in Irish football folklore, and Ray Houghton scored a goal that gets replayed on YouTube more times than a Lady Gaga video. Eamonn Dunphy thinks that 4 points may be enough for a team to emerge as runners up in Group C, and if Ireland were to manage even a draw with Croatia, then the Italy game has the potential to be winner takes all. 
Rossi…Fit In Time? (nutmegradio.com)
From the point of view of the fans, once the shock of being drawn with Spain has subsided, there are more positives than negatives to be taken from tonights’ draw. For one, Ireland play two games in Poznan, and the Spanish in Gdansk. Of the 8 host cities, these two Polish cities are the closest together. Logistically this is dreamland for the travelling Green Army. If the Celtic Tiger left one lasting legacy apart from a crap economy, it is a strong link with people from Eastern Europe, and Poland in particular. Irish fans have been welcomed almost anywhere they have travelled with the team, and hopefully can rely on incredible hospitality from their Polish hosts next summer.
Poznan Stadium. Picture It Green (mcfc.co.uk)
Finally, no matter what your feelings are on the draw, the main thing is that Ireland were in it. We are half a year from this country’s first appearance in a European Championship for 24 years. Come what may, the fact that Keane, Dunne et al will get a chance to pit their talents against the three incredible teams is worth celebrating.
 Savour the build up, stock up on flags and facepaint, watch as the English media build up their team for another fall. From the 10th to the 18th of June next year, the economy will be off the front pages of our newspapers. Cue empty streets, crowded pubs, and a nation falling in love with football all over again. Cue a quarter final against England which we win on penalties. Heroes will arise, songs will be penned, and replica jerseys donned for days on end. The good times are just around the corner.

Putting the Boom in Bust. Ireland in Euro 2012.

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment
Heart, Dedication, Graft. And that’s just the fans. (Pic:thescore.ie)
Recession. A time for cutbacks, political recriminations, endless dole queues, and for Ireland to qualify for a major football championship.
It seems par for the course that our football team succeed in times of financial hardship, making it that little bit more difficult for fans to travel in support of the players. Not that this deters the dedicated. Credit Unions play their part, rubber stamping “home improvement” loans to lads wearing foam hands. Technically the loans are for home improvements, because if absence makes the heart grow fonder, then when the fans eventually got home from Germany/Italy/USA/Japan and Korea, home looked an awful lot better than it did when they left.
We, the Irish people, follow the Tic Tac philosophy. We all need a little lift from time to time. Our football team has the happy knack of supplying it when our country is at its lowest ebb. Trappatoni may not do Tic Tac tactics, but he and his squad of players have grinded and grafted their way to Poland and Ukraine next summer.
Former publicans across Ireland will be cursing themselves for not hanging on another bit before closing their ailing ale houses. If they had kept the faith, as sure as night follows day and Shay Given is a good goalkeeper, they would have taken in money beyond their wildest dreams. It may indulge the traditional Irish drinking stereotype, but the feel good effect of Ireland in a major championship will mean that those pubs still open will run dry next summer.
Forget the phenomenon of the “Popes Children” Mr McWilliams. The real baby boom happened in the late 1980s and early 1990s, when a woman just mentioning Paul McGrath would have the equivalent effect of a bitch in heat. Mentioning Schillachi, on the other hand….
Ask any supporter. They would prefer Ireland to play dull football and qualify for every tournament than play Barcelona style football and never reach those heady heights. It may not be pretty, it may not awaken the senses, hell it may be nigh on impossible to watch without imbibing some form of alcohol, but it is effective. Greece won the Euros in 2004 playing largely the same style of football appropriated by Trappatoni, and if you had put it to any Greek fan celebrating on the streets of Athens the night of their triumph that the victory was devalued by the manner of play, they would have rightly laughed in your face and continued crying tears of unadulterated joy.
The similarities between Jack Charlton and Giovanni Trappatoni are well documented. Both managers stuck to their own style of play even amidst clamours from pundits and fans alike for the introduction of flair players. Liam Brady and Andy Reid are two of the most notable casualties (Stephen Ireland’s wounds were self inflicted). However, like Tardelli said (or was it Macchiavelli?) , “the end justifies the means”. Both men managed to do what many others have failed to do; lead Ireland to a major championship. There is already a statue of Jack in Cork Airport. Perhaps in the future pigeons will be able to defecate on a likeness of Trappatoni?
Jack Charlton Statue, Cork Airport (windowonwoking.org.uk)
Moving swiftly on to next year, and Ireland are fourth seeds going into the draw on December 2nd. It is unquestionably true that the overall quality of teams in the group stages of the European Championships are a cut above those in the World Cup pots. Because the Euros begin with 16 teams and the World Cup with 32, essentially the former begins with the quality you are likely to see in the first knockout stage (the last 16) of the World Cup. For the neutral observer, this leads to some incredible football. For the loyal Green Army however, it will mean nails bitten to the quick from kick off on day one.
 Ireland will have much to do to even get to the knockout stages next year. Some of the combinations possible in Friday’s draw are worthy of note. If Ireland were to draw Spain, Germany, and Portugal, then it would undoubtedly be the group of death for the boys in green. If however, the squad were to come up against Spain, Italy and Greece in the preliminaries, inevitably this would be dubbed the “Group of Debt”. For the thousands of Irish who will keep Michael O’Leary in gold leaf toilet roll next year, all groups will involve considerable debt.
So will next summer live up to all the hype it will inevitably attract in the coming months? You bet. Do you honestly think that Richard Dunne did his Paul McGrath versus Italy impression in Moscow just to be patted patronisingly on the head and sent home to a celebration of mediocrity in the Phoenix Park? Will Robbie Keane want to arrive onto the international main stage for the first time in ten years and leave without a few goals to his name? Will Damien Duff forget how to infuse confused defenders with twisted blood in the fashion he did in the Far East? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you are questioning the character and commitment of some of Ireland’s finest ever players.
Richard Dunne in Moscow (daylife.com)
It took a while to accept, but Trappatoni’s rigid system has gotten us to where we are now. The team is committed to the system and they will leave nothing in the tank in pursuit of a result. Similiarly, the fans are committed to the team and they will leave nothing in their bank accounts in their quest to be dubbed the world’s greatest fans once again. Back in 1988 Joxer went to Stuttgart by van. Next year thousands of this country’s football followers will invade Eastern Europe by air, by sea, clinging to the axles of a truck if needs be. No matter what, they will be there in droves. One problem. Christy Moore is going to have a hard time finding anything to rhyme with Gdansk.

How The Pinch Stole Christmas

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment
Some won’t make it home for Christmas. (pic: reuters.com)
80’s Ireland. Boatloads and busloads take the return journey home for Christmas. From Dublin, from London, from New York City, they return to the fold. Press photographers gather in airport arrivals halls, both hopeful and confident of snapping some tearful reunions.
                Some do not return home. Some because they cannot afford to, either financially or legally, as many are in America as illegal immigrants and leaving will mean never coming back. Some because they don’t see Ireland as their country anymore. Politicians have failed them, their friends have emigrated too, and their parents leave them feeling nothing but a vague guilt for deserting them.
                But for those who do return, two weeks over the festive season leave them feeling like they will never leave home again. They start to feel once more that they belong in Ireland. This emotional attachment is at its most potent as the lights come on in a club, and people stagger to attention for the national anthem. Sinne Fianna Fáil, atá faoi gheall na hÉireann. Soldiers are we, whose lives we pledge to Ireland.
                But they are not soldiers, they are young Irish people living in the harshness of the 1980’s. They may pledge their hearts to Ireland, but perhaps never again their lives, because their livelihoods lie elsewhere. In the cold light of January, bags full of their mother’s cooking, jacket pockets lined with surreptitious tenners from their oul fella, they return to be swallowed up in the anonymity of the foreign metropolis’ where they have found jobs, if not an identity.
                No photographers turn up at the airports in January. There is a significant difference between tearful reunions and tearful goodbyes.
                We do not live in the 80’s anymore, but we do live in a recession that has swallowed up this country’s youth once more and spat them in all corners of the globe. Like their predecessors a generation ago, many will make the trek home for turkey this December, and like their predecessors a generation ago, many will not.
                But in this age of constant communication, is the physical absence of someone felt as keenly as it was 30 years ago? Families across this country can sit down this Christmas Day in front of their turkey and sprouts, and wave happily to their child/sibling as they don surf shorts and a Santa hat on Bondi Beach. Skype, Facebook, and Google + have made this world a smaller place, and lend a hand to lessening the impact of loved ones not being around the house this Christmas.
                But no amount of technology can ever make up for having everyone around the dinner table Christmas day. A full house may mean that – as sure as brussel sprouts will be sneakily discarded – there will be arguments, fights and fireworks. But a house full of the noise of arguments is infinitely more preferable to one where the only sound is the ticking clock, a constant reminder of time spent apart.
                There are reasons why people don’t come home this Christmas that are far removed from the reasons of the 80s. To many the recession is not a hinderance, but an opportunity to broaden their horizons and take in foreign lands before they tie themselves down in a job. The fact that there may be no job to tie them down is not something which concerns some of them unduly as of yet.
                We are in recession much in the same way we were a generation ago. But there are key differences. Ireland back then was never all that prosperous to begin with, and the 80’s recession was akin to jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Now however, there is the feeling that for the Celtic Tiger Cubs it is out of the cotton wool and into the harsh realities of a decimated economy. Why would recently graduated Irish university students stay in this country to become government artists, drawing the dole, when they are offered the opportunities to utilise their degrees in far flung locations like Korea, Japan, Australia. The latter has always been a go-to place for the Irish in times of turmoil, the two Far Eastern countries the recent recipients of an Irish Diaspora simply because they require native English speakers who will teach them the language in return for decent wages. For many it is a no brainer to leave this island for pastures new. And why would they endure the long trek home to be reminded of the harsh realities they have left behind?
                Closer to home, there are Irish people all over the United Kingdom who cannot make the short hop across the Irish Sea because they have to work over Christmas. The UK is in the grips of a recession also, and if keeping your job means having to work Christmas Eve and St Stephen’s Day, then perhaps a Christmas spent alone in a British bedsit is a necessary evil.
                Even those who stay behind may soon find that their reason for doing so will be yanked from under their feet. Many Irish graduates undertake further study, in order to stave off the inevitable fruitless job search and to make themselves more employable to surviving businesses. Yet there are talks of cutting funding completely for postgraduate studies. What the government will save in money it will lose in talent, as some of the brightest young minds of this country will have no choice but to shine elsewhere.
                This Christmas spare a thought for those who will not be home. Spare a thought for those who will be also. For while two weeks will pass as though they have never left these shores, they will nevertheless pass quickly and then it will be back across oceans and continents for our youth. Mothers will weep, fathers will proffer a stoic handshake, then the plane will take off and take Ireland’s youth with it. This is not the country we envisaged a decade ago, but it is the hand we were dealt by those in power and those with power. All we can do is welcome back with open arms those who will emerge through the arrival doors in airports like contestants on Stars in Their Eyes, and keep in our hearts those who can’t.

Sex, Rugby, and Orthopedic Shoes!

/ Alan Keane / Leave a comment

Dead Cat Bounce
Galway Bulmers Comedy Festival
Roisín Dubh
27th October 2011
First Published November 1st in Sin Newspaper 


Ruck and Roll, Baby!
Never arrive late to a comedy gig. There will invariably be two seats left directly in front of the stage which you and whoever is accompanying you will have to take. Oh, and never bring a friend who thinks it is ok to go out in what appear to be his pyjamas in public – this will attract unwanted attention from hungry comedians. Without making reference to his size, (he does enough of that himself) Karl Spain was one very hungry MC on the night. He immediately devoured my dubiously dressed friend, and took a minute to savour the poor girl unfortunate enough to have one of those laughs. You know the one: the Peppa Pig laugh. “Do you do that all the time? I’m only asking because that’s the first time I’ve made a woman make a noise in a long time.” Spain warmed up the crowd so they were in a party mood by the time Dead Cat Bounce, ehhh…. bounced onto the stage at 10pm. The festivities were enhanced by the appearance of local favourite John Donnellan in between.

         Dead Cat Bounce is a Wall Street term which signifies a slight increase in stock prices after a severe slump. It is regarded as a mere gradual upward blip. Dead Cat Bounce is also a three piece Dublin comedy rock band. Comprising of three Trinity College graduates; bassist Shane O’Brien, James Walmsley on guitar and vocals, and “comedy drummer” Damien Fox (it says so on his business card). The band’s career could hardly be more dissimilar to the term from which they derive their name. It hasn’t been a gradual upward blip, but rather an explosion to prominence in Irish comedy circles since their appearances on RTE2’s Republic of Telly last year.
         The set list reads like something you’d find scratched on padded walls in institutes. ‘Overenthusiastic Contraceptive Lady’ is a song Durex wouldn’t like to get too popular, as it might have an effect on sales. “I just want your lovin’ girl, I don’t want your babies, so I promise to aim for your chest,” is but one of the lines from this song which had the audience rolling around beneath the bar stools. More guffaws for ‘Outsized Orthopaedic Shoe,’ an epic tale of friendship between a man with one leg shorter than the other, and his shoe. ‘Christians in Love’ portrays the carnal adventures of a newlywed couple “getting to know each other” for the first time. “Like a chimpanzee at a buffet car, they’re just grabbing at things before they know what they are, and seeing if they can fit them in their mouths”. The girl with the unfortunate laugh has reached unprecedented decibel levels by the end of this song, and many other audience members are in tears of laughter.
         However the biggest cheer of the night is reserved for the lads’ most well known song, ‘Rugby’. The video for this ditty is on YouTube and is well worth a watch or ten, featuring as it does Brent Pope and the mulleted one, former Irish hooker Shane Byrne. The song calls into question the heterosexuality of rugby, with such insightful lines as “we’re fooling the world that there’s nothing sexual, in a ball shaped like a giant testicle”. This gig was rucking brilliant.