Merde, He Wrote
Is it curtains for Ireland’s World Cup chances now that we’ve been drawn against the, on paper at least, far superior French? Also, fair dinkum to Cork hurling keeper Dónal Óg Cusack for doing the unthinkable and actually penning an interesting sports autobiography
Craig Fitzsimons, 03 Nov 2009
France, then. At first, the play-off draw provoked strange strangled noises — as well as many loud exclamations of ‘FUCK’ ‘BOLLOCKS’ and other such eloquent insights — in the HP office. It was a kick in the nethers, no two ways about it. But fuck it, let’s face the music and dance.
The initial feeling of raw terror has now been replaced by a grim, resolute determination to roll up our sleeves and manfully get on with the job (one of the chief symptoms of the psychosis inherent in being a football fan is the delusion that ‘approaching the game in a positive frame of mind’ will make a difference, as if we have any control at all over events as they unfold on the field).
The task looms like an appointment for invasive brain surgery — undeniably terrifying, but you realise it simply has to be done in order that your life may be prolonged and your dreams may be realised. The Ireland squad, it’s safe to assume, feel the same way.
Apart from the near-certainty of a few favourable refereeing decisions over the course of the 180 minutes, France can also call on a squad which is indisputably superior to ours on both an individual and collective level.
With the exception of Shay Given, it can be considered highly doubtful that any of our lads would be even considered for a place in the French starting line-up (assuming, of course, that they were French, which they’re not). At a stretch, Messrs O’Shea, Dunne and Keane would possibly be good enough to make their bench.
But if we apply Sun Tzu’s ‘what is my enemy thinking?’ logic for a minute, it’s also reasonable to speculate that the French will not have been overly delighted to get paired with us, a fact confirmed by the look on Raymond Domenech’s face after the draw was made.
For all our very visible limitations, we’re a doughty and well-organised unit with a coherent (if dull) tactical method and a clearly excellent team spirit. By contrast, the suspicion lingers that under Domenech’s less-than-astute guidance, France have become basically a bunch of under-achieving, cowardly, cheese-eating surrender monkeys whose formidable talent is chronically undermined by a flaky mental attitude and general lack of steel balls — in Ed Helms’ immortal phrase, ‘truffle-shaving, fondue-dipping bidet slurpers’.
Page 1/3 <Previous 1 2 3 Next>
©Hot Press 2011. Why be a member? | Terms of Service | Privacy Policy