Only One Keane In Ireland! (My diary of match reports World Cup 2002)

Member Name: MurphEE

Product:	My diary of match reports World Cup 2002
Date:	30/06/02 (140 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Goals, Goals Goals!

Disadvantages: Big headed Corkman!

While looking around Dooyoo I came across this section. A diary of the World Cup sounded like such a good idea but how to actually write something. I thought about it for a while and decided that the best way would be to make a few notes as the competition progressed and write the whole thing up as soon as my country was eliminated. This sounded like the way to go and the results are what you are about to read. I have tried to keep away from detailed football analysis and stuck to the feelings and atmosphere that surrounded the competition. I hope you enjoy the read as much as I have enjoyed the competition.


Buildup.

You know what they say about the World Cup; it is just like Christmas, months of buildup, massive expense and all over in three days! I was hoping that this would not be the case for Ireland. When the draw for the group stage was made, we seemed to have an easy group. Cameroon, Germany and Saudi Arabia. The Saudi’s would be the whipping boys and it would be between Germany and us for top spot. Then Cameroon go and have a fantastic African Nations Cup and Roy Keane throws his toys out of the pram before a ball is kicked in anger. Suddenly we were looking like an early exit could be on the cards.


This was to be my first World Cup at home on native soil. To be truthful I was fed up of all the big mouths telling me how it was for Euro’88, Italia ’90 and USA’94. Most of these people had never been to see Ireland and were relating the ‘powerful craic’ that they had while watching on a television in a pub somewhere. I explained that USA ’94 had seen the English throw themselves behind our lads and that the atmosphere had been great over there. This was universally sneered at by all and sundry. I was taken to one side and told in a paternal manner that you really had to be in Ireland. It did not matter what the rest of us ‘plastic paddies’ had been doing in the far-flung
corners of the world; the place to be was the O’Briens Lounge Bar. Only there could you experience the joyous and holy rapture that gripped the Irish people when Ray Houghton smashed the ball into the Italian net in the Giants Stadium.


A part of me was envious of those who had been at the matches and those who had been here in Ireland. I was looking forward to this World Cup so much, hoping that I could join in the ‘craic’ and possibly be accepted as a true believer. As the kick off grew closer, it was possible to see the expectation on people’s faces. Every car seemed to be flying a flag and most houses had one in the garden. The television advertisements had a football theme and employers were worrying about lost time as the country got ready for the biggest couple of sick days in national history.


Then Roy broke our hearts. I have said enough about this already and will only say that a couple of heroes emerged from the debacle. Niall Quinn is a gentleman and a consummate professional and Steve Staunton turned out to be a captain truly worthy of title. We are a small country with a poor national soccer league. Our richer neighbours consume all of our talent but we are fiercely proud of our team spirit and our ability to play beyond the sum of our talent. We hoped against hope that we could do it again but I had a lump in my throat and a heavy heart as we approached the game against Cameroon.


Saturday June 01 2002
Republic of Ireland 1 Cameroon 1

A rather inauspicious start to the campaign for our household. Despite numerous alarms being set, we awoke with 14 minutes already played. We settled in to watch the first half in bed. It was a dire display. We were unable to cope with the pace of the two Cameroon front men. Eto and Mboma were destroying our defense and seemed to be able to run through us at will. Nagging doubt had turned to despair when Eto shrugged off Stan (Steve Staunton) to
cut the ball back into the path of the approaching Mboma who found the net from just six yards. We had a chance to level the score on half time as Rigobert Song almost beat his own keeper from an Ian Harte free kick.


Breakfast was made at half time while Eamon Dunphy smugly predicted a Cameroon rout and Irish ignominy in the second half. He is Roy Keanes' biographer and has tried to stir up anti-McCarthy feelings during the buildup. He turned up for the television broadcast wearing Cameroon colours and predicting that Ireland would lose all three group games. However, even before a bite of toast had been eaten we were back in the game! Kilbane crosses, Kalla heads a clearance right into the path of Holland. Holland scores and bedrooms all over Ireland erupt. I cry. We are back and how! A different team has emerged in the second half and now we are playing football. Finnan has replaced McAteer with Kelly moving into Macca’s spot and Finnan taking the right back berth. We have shape and we seem to have purpose. It turns out that Mick McCarthy had hung a notice on the wall of the dressing room. It said simply ‘NO REGRETS’. He told the players at the break that they would regret that first half performance for the rest of their lives if they did not turn it around in the second.


We held on and had further chances to win the game. Poor old Song almost scored another own goal and Robbie Keane struck the post when on another day he would have scored. He and Duff had been superb. Steven Reid had replaced Harte and had a couple of chances. The final whistle blew and we were delighted with the point. The sight of Matt Holland waving to his family and looking so delighted was one of the best moments for me. He had been brilliant and scored a wonderful goal, we still had hope. Best of all it was raining outside and there were two more matches on the telly!


Wednesday June 05 2002
Germany 1 Republic of Ireland 1


The first game on a working day. All morning we talked of little else. Would Quinn come on, how would we deal with Ballack? Was the 8-0 defeat of Saudi a fluke or were the Germans going to show everyone that that 5-1 defeat by Liverpool (on loan to England) was indeed the wake up call that their team had needed. Everyone was nervous at tea break with little being said. At midday the place evacuated quicker than any fire drill had ever managed. I came home and sat in my kitchen to witness the events. Ann joined me for a few minutes before she had to go back to school, they were watching the game too but some of the smaller children were more interested in the playground and had to be supervised.


We started well and looked like we were the better team until the 18th minute. Ballack got away from Holland for the only time in the entire match and he crossed into space for Klose to head home. On the replay, you could see Stan calling for Harte to cover the space. As he predicted this was the spot that Ballack chose to use. We were behind and had to breach the magnificent Kahn’s goal to get back into this game and the competition.


I made some lunch at half-time and settled down to eat it with dread in my heart. I had always known that this could be the way things would turn out but I so wanted the team to do well for themselves more than for those of us at home. Again we were excellent in the second half and I have to confess that I spent most of it wondering why the Germans were sitting back instead of finishing us off. With 15 minutes to go, Mick decides to throw on Quinn and Reid. It is a brave move, as he will be crucified if we loose. I have to say that I agree with this sort of tactic, go for the goal and to hell with defense, when you are losing you are losing and the margin of defeat makes no difference at that stage.


We create many chances but time is running out. There are tears in my eyes as I write a no
te for Ann and prepare to leave for work. I am standing by the door waiting for the whistle when Kilbane crosses deep in injury time. Quinn flicks the ball on and Robbie Keane smashes it home. I am dumbstruck for a second and wait for the goal to be ruled offside. Then the realisation dawns, it is a goal we have pulled it out of the fire. Gripping my inflatable hammer, I race outside to do a lap of honor around the house. I am shouting ‘One Keane in Ireland, One Keane in Ireland’ I race back inside to see the reaction from the bench, Mick cannot believe it either. The telephone rings and my brother sings the One Keane song down the line. We are ecstatic as we chant ‘F@#& You Dunphy’ repeatedly. A wave of relief floods over us as we realise that we can actually qualify for the next round and all without that primadonna from Cork.


I change my note to add a victorious slant and head back to work where nothing is done all evening as we debate the missed chances and the magnificence of Kahn. On the way back to the plant, school children had been standing in their playground waving flags at the passing cars. All of the cars tooted their horns and the kids went wild. Isn’t the World Cup great when you have just drawn your first two matches!


Tuesday June 11 2002
Republic of Ireland 3 Saudi Arabia 0

Another match on the weekday and another evacuation from work. It is noticeable that there are more people heading home and many have decided to take the rest of the day off. This is probably the most talked about match of the lot. This may be hard to understand for those outside of Ireland but let me explain. Coming into the competition our record stands at nine games played and one victory only. We have now extended that run to eleven played and still only one victory in the final stages. The most salient fact is that we have never scored two goals at this stage in any match. To qualify for the second round
and a possible meeting with Spain we have to win by two clear goals.


These facts have been debated all week and it is generally felt that Saudi have a point to prove and will be looking for a win. What many people have missed is the fact that this is the freest scoring Irish team in history. We have scored in every game of the qualification campaign and in Duff and Keane we have our most dangerous partnership ever to take to the field. We can do it. I want us to do it and I want us to do it on our own merit. Too often in the past we have had to wait for other results. There should be no need for that as we have our fate in our own hands.


As before I settled down with the television in the kitchen. I had barely time to get comfortable when we were one up. Stan played a pin point pass to Gary Kelly who crossed into the box for Robbie Keane to volley home from 12 yards. We had the early goal and surely now the flood gates would open. However, it was not to be as we ‘did a Germany’ and sat back on our lead. It was possible that a win would be enough but that is not the way I wanted it. I wanted a resounding victory to carry us through to the second round. As the half neared it’s climax the Saudi’s were back in the game and really deserved a goal for their efforts.


Lunch was prepared during the interval and not much was said as Ann headed back to school and I settled down for the second half. We played better and just beyond the hour mark, a Staunton free kick was neatly dispatched to the net by none other than Gary Breen. It was the sweetest of touches and one that wrote his name in Irish footballing history. We had scored that elusive second goal and were on our way to the second round! Just look at his reaction as he races towards the fans. You could not beat that smile off his face with a big stick. This is what the World Cup is all about.


The rest of the match passed in a party mood as t
he commentators began to believe that we were there. Shay Given played his part by making a few great saves as the Saudi’s proved that they still had some fight in them. Then just as we were waiting for the fourth official young Duff drilled one towards the net and Mohammed Al Deayea in the Saudi net failed to hold it. Three goals! The second round! Moreover, all this with a team who tried to play football! Gone was the hoofing and clogging. Gone was the long ball game that left the most talented Irish midfield in generations as mere spectators. We got the ball down and played it into feet and we scored great goals all the way to the finals and now in the finals as well. I could have kissed Mick McCarthy but luckily, Mick Byrne did it for me!


As I drove back to work horns were tooting and people were spilling out onto the streets to wave at the passing cars before returning to their drinks and an evening of celebration. Not many of us made it back to work but those that did greeted each other with relief as well as happiness. Roll on Spain or whoever may come.


Sunday June 16 2002
Spain 1 Republic of Ireland 1 (3-2 on penalties)

Just like the Irish football team, Ann and I upped sticks and moved for the second round. On Saturday, we traveled to Chicago for a little break. America is not the place to watch football, as even when they hosted the finals in ’94 most Americans were unaware of the fact that the greatest tournament on earth was happening on their doorstep.


The match was to be shown at 6:30am in Chicago and unless you had Spanish speaking cable television you were not going to see it. This time we got up in plenty of time and made our way to The Curragh public house in Shamburgh. As we drove along, we proudly displayed our Irish flag from the window of the truck. In fact it was lucky that the match was so early as in post September 11th America it is dangerous to display any emblems other tha
n the stars and stripes as to do so is said to be un-American and subversive. I am not joking!


Arriving at the bar, we found a good crowd of Irish supporters installed. We had two big screens showing the Spanish speaking broadcast. The sound was turned down and we were tuned to a radio station called Talk Sport 125 which was relaying unofficial commentary from the television pictures being provided by the BBC back in London. This meant that there was a 45-second delay in hearing the commentary. Most of the time this was irrelevant, as we were reacting to the pictures and not paying any attention to the commentary. There was also a small group of Spanish supporters on the other side of the bar having claimed one screen as their own.


The first half was a nerve-jangling affair as the inevitable first Spanish goal came. Puyol crossed beautifully for Morientes to head home inside the far post leaving Given stranded. It was a beautiful move and seemed like the start of what would be a rout. As we looked at the Spanish side we could only see class, pace and talent. We silently prayed for no more than two nil.


Then another strange thing happened, Spain sat back and allowed Ireland to come onto them. We seemed to be a little wary of this and only really tested the Spanish goal late in the half when Keane tried to chip Cassillas only to see his effort sail over the bar. As the teams left the field for the break and our breakfast arrived, we were all happy to be only one down. As we ate and chatted, the consensus was that, we could test Spain but that their superior talent would show in the end.


Straight from the restart we had a glimpse of that talent when Raul wove his magic on the edge of the box to supply Morientes with a gift wrapped chance only to see Given block with his body. ‘Wah Hey Shay’ was the cry around Shamburgh. Then Stan left the field. He had a knock in the first half and evidently had not b
een able to run it off. We clapped for a worthy captain and the most capped player in Irish history. Kenny Cunningham was the replacement. Within seconds, Kilbane had a shot cleared off the line and we all realised that we were not out of the competition yet.


Big Niall Quinn entered the fray to rapturous applause from The Curragh faithful. As Duff sped into the box Juanfran took him down. We danced with glee but as the replay showed Duffer had ‘done an Owen’ and no penalty should have been given. Justice was done when Harte’s shot was easily saved and Kilbane spurned an open goal to blast wide. As Harte stepped up, we all groaned as he had the worst tournament of any of the players and he was going to take the spot kick. Someone in the crowd shouted for Keane to take it and others nodded sagely. The Spanish fans went wild as Kilbane blasted wide. We would have taken the goal but doubts would have lingered and at this stage you need to go through on merit.


We pushed forward and ran the Spanish defense ragged. Keane and Duff were outstanding and then in the last minute the referee blew his whistle and pointed to the spot. I screamed ‘It’s a penalty’ and looked around to see if others had come to this conclusion too. There was general bewilderment in the bar until the replay showed Hierro trying to swap shirts with Quinn before the game had actually ended.


‘Keano! Keano!’ the exiles screamed as I buried my head in my hands and waited for the crowd reaction to let me know if we had scored. Meanwhile Talk Sport 125 were announcing that the ref had blown for a free out then changed their minds as they too saw the replay. As they debated the validity and agreed that it was a penalty, The Curragh exploded as Robbie placed the ball confidently in the corner of the net. We were in golden goal territory! We sang and sang and tears ran down by face as I sang the one Keane song and then fol
lowed into the ‘Fields of Athenry’.


We bounded for the bar as the final whistle sounded and the first pint of the World Cup was purchased. It had been too early when we got there and then there was breakfast to be eaten and coffee. Now there was time for a pint and it tasted delicious as we still had hope. We dominated extra time, which was to be expected as Spain has removed Raul and Morientes in normal time. Abelda was injured and this left Spain with only ten men for much of the extra time as all their substitutes had been used.


Both sides had chances but the final whistle came and penalties were to be taken. We all agreed that it was now a lottery and were happy with the result. We wished the Spanish fans well and they us and settled down to face the dreaded spot kicks. Robbie Keane and Steve Finnan found the net. Matt Holland hit the bar and Casillas saved shots from David Connolly and Kevin Kilbane. Ireland was out of the World Cup.


From The Curragh, we made our way into the city. As we drove, we noticed the odd Irish jersey as fans made their way home or on to the next bar to drown their sorrows. As we were wearing Ireland jerseys, we drew a few comments from people throughout the day. A guy selling us a hotdog in Lincoln Park asked how the match had gone. We explained that Spain had beaten us and he was surprised that Spain was good at soccer. Americans! An English fan commiserated with us as we bought a beer and we wished him and his mates all the best against Brazil. An Argentinean came over to tell us how much he admired our team’s spirit and how he had enjoyed the game.


I was happy with our performance. Ann was sad that we had lost, as she had really wanted them to beat Spain. Overall, we had enjoyed our team’s contribution to a marvelous competition. They did their country proud. We thought that our World Cup dream was over but a few little gems cropped up over the followin
g days which kept our interest alive.


Chicago has a large Mexican population and as the USA was drawn to play Mexico in the second round, this led to a fierce debate in the city. Americans felt that it was subversive for Mexicans to support their native country against the country that was paying their wages. Both sides of the argument were put across on television and in the newspapers. The strange thing about the whole affair was that whenever a Mexican made a comment they prefaced it by stating that they loved America. I felt that they were afraid to say any different as this whole nation now looks at any foreigner as a potential suicide bomber. In the end, it did not matter as the USA won the game.


Even with the USA in the quarterfinals, there was little or no mention of the fact in the media. One concession was the fact that USA games were shown on ESPN. As the German game approached, a poll showed that 99% of German Americans predicted a German victory while 85% of Americans were unaware that the USA had a soccer team!


Thank you Mick McCarthy and all the players for giving us another performance to be proud of. As it turns out only Robbie Keane and Ronaldo were able to breach the German goal. Mick had taken his own side all the way to the second round of the World Cup finals. We made it through a qualification campaign that pitted us against the giants of European football in the shape of Portugal and Holland. We scored great goals and ended the qualification stages with more points than many of the teams who qualified automatically. Mick had the courage to put team morale before individual brilliance. For the first time, we came through the group stage on our own merit. We outplayed Germany and Spain and never lost a game in the finals. Who cares about what might have been when you have the beauty of what actually was? I believe that we added to the spectacle of a tournament that finally saw the greatest exponents of
the beautiful game win it with the style that we expect from Brazil.


Do I feel any better now that I have experienced the tournament at home? Not really, the atmosphere was best in a small pub in the parking lot of a large shopping mall north west of Chicago. To any American passing it looked as though those Irish were starting early but inside a drama was being witnessed and America will never be part of the wider world until they learn about the passion that envelopes soccer. You can keep your baseball, basketball, and gridiron. Give me a ball, a field, jumpers for goal posts…… You know the rest.


One Keane in Ireland!
Only one Keane in Ireland!


Thank you for reading.
©MurphEE 2002

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