Samuel Johnson once described a second marriage as a “triumph of hope over experience”. In fairness to marriage the statement says more about Johnson’s experience of losing his wife than a glib comment on that institution.
The term ‘triumph of hope over experience’ could also sum up my adventures in the middle of last week. As detailed in this column last Wednesday, I spent the previous night watching Munster and the All Blacks play rugby at Thomond Park. I travelled there in hope and had a wonderful experience.
That game was billed as an official opening of Thomond Park. It was brilliant but it was still a challenge game; and challenge games, from my long experiences in coaching teams are more likely to be a non-event rather than the high quality thriller we were treated to Thomond Park.
I attempted to repeat the experience Wednesday last. There has been a gap in my “been there, done that” list for a long time. I had never seen an international soccer game. My chance finally arrived when I was offered a ticket to see Ireland play Poland in last Wednesday’s International “friendly” game. I told a few people of my intentions; most of them sniggered.
Why would you want to go there?” they asked.
“Because I can” was my reply.
“There was a time when you’d be struck blind for watching soccer in Croke Park” one wag said jokingly. I thought about this and it reminded me of the story about the two ould fellas at the back of the church during a good old fashioned Redemptorist mission sermon of fire and brimstone.
The preacher was in full flow when a pretty lady in the front row of the choir, who were up in the balcony, sneezed and toppled over the railing. She managed to cling to the hand rail and dangled precariously above the congregation.
The missionary, spotted an occasion of sin from the top of the church and immediately announced “Anyone who looks up at the unfortunate young lady and takes pleasure from it will be struck blind.”
By now the young lady was being helped back over the railing but before it was too late, one ould fella turned to the other and said “Be gob, I think I’ll chance one eye!”
I decided that a watching friendly soccer game was the equivalent of ‘one eye’, so I struck off for Dublin on Wednesday.
To be fair to both Ireland and Poland, any game that was played last Wednesday was going to struggle when compared to Tuesday evening’s game. Dublin is a big city and there was too much traffic and people moving about in the ordinary workday fashion to allow for any pre-match atmosphere to build up around O’Connell St. There was the occasional sighting of a father with a son in a green jersey and ruck sack to suggest that one or two others had travelled to the big smoke for the game.
I arrived at Croke Park from the Drumcondra side about an hour before kick-off. The streets now looked much more like Croke Park on a big GAA day. There were lots of people dressed in red and white who spoke with funny accents. The ordinary Dub probably thought that the strike was over and Cork were playing again.
The atmosphere inside the ground was peculiar, to say the least. The Hill 16 end of the Cusack Stand was full of Polish supporters. They sung, waved flags, jumped up and down, clapped and sung again. There must have been 5,000 Poles there and they were enjoying themselves.
I was in the lower deck of the Hogan Stand and here too the Poles seemed to occupy about half the seats. Directly behind me was a glimpse of the ‘new’ Ireland; a Polish father with a red and white hat, scarf and flag. His Irish born son sat alongside him; he wore an Irish jersey, hat and scarf.
The singing of the national anthems was interesting. It was the one time during the night that the Irish supporters matched the Poles.
The game itself was played at a level that was only marginally above boring. Poland scored after two minutes and this seemed to upset Ireland. The Polish supporters loved it but the Irish supporters for the most part just sat in their seats and watched.
My seat was only a half dozen rows up from the sideline. This gave me a perspective on the game that I never get from television. The thing that struck me most about the play is that the ball is very light. It is forever moving about in the air and it must be a nightmare for goalkeepers.
Later in the evening I heard a TV analyst criticise Ireland’s Caleb Folan for getting caught out of position when Poland’s Mariusz Lewandowski headed in his sides first goal. It’s easy to say this from the comfort of the TV studio, it’s another thing to find the proper position when the ball is dipping or moving three to four feet from right to left as it flies towards you.
As the second half wore on, it wore me down. It wore the crowd down too. The Poles tried to start a Mexican wave but the Irish supporters would have none of it. There were so many substitutions that I lost track of who was still on the field and who had gone off.
With seven minutes remaining, and knowing the challenge game scene as I do, I decided that both managers had learned as much as they could from the situation and that I could learn no more either. I left. OK, so I missed three late goals, but they appeared to be far more exciting on television than they must have been on the park. I was with in earshot of the ground during that last 10 minutes and I only heard one roar. By the loudness of that cheer, I assumed that Poland had made it 3-0.
The intensity of Tuesday night in Thomond Park could never be repeated at a soccer friendly international. It would be unfair to expect what is in effect a glorified challenge game to provide nail biting excitement. To go to a second friendly soccer international after seeing one would certainly be a triumph of hope over experience. As for being struck blind there was never any fear of that, there was nothing to see anyway. Perhaps a full blooded World Cup qualifier would make a better spectacle.