Give it a Lash Trap!

The 11th of November 1987, in a suburban living room in Tallaght, three 17 year old Leaving Cert students sat watching Scotland v Bulgaria with our schoolbooks in front of us in case my mother came home. The television was an old Bush which was bought eight years earlier for the Pope’s visit. When Gary McKay scored we looked at each other unsure of how to celebrate. We were real fans, we bunked off school every match day Wednesday, bought our schoolboy tickets from Eoin Hand in the old Tallaght Town Centre, and we had no idea how to celebrate!
 

That goal from an unlikely source kick started the greatest era in Irish football, the supporters went  to Germany like nervous teenagers hitting Santa Ponsa for the first time, apprehensive about how they would fare against the more experienced, but like everything else the Irish adapted and soon excelled. The team likewise, winning a game we should have lost , drawing a game we should have won and losing a game we could have drawn, the name of Wim Kieft will forever be etched on the memory of those who witnessed Euro 1988.


Bigger and better were to come, and when we emerged from group 6 of the 1990 World Cup qualifiers in second place we were finally ready for the big time. Who can ever forget the craic in 1990, the buses emptied outside pubs during the penalty shoot-out, the pictures of a deserted O’Connell Street on a weekday afternoon, the heartbreak but immense pride we all felt after the heroic performance in the Olympic Stadium, when we had a new villain, Toto Schillaci.


We were to miss out on the Euros in 1992 but to be honest as a country I think  we needed the breather, the collective liver and credit union account needed a break. Revitalised and refreshed we headed to the US in 1994 ready to take on the world again. We went to the great melting pot of New York and a son of an emigrant sent the country into rapture once again, we danced in the chippers that night, we got free batter burgers, we beat the Italians and we loved it. That was the highlight of the World Cup that year, we were beaten by Mexico in the intense heat of Orlando and John Aldridge called an official a twat. A scoreless draw against Norway ensured we emerged from our group and a 2-0  defeat against Holland meant an early exit for the boys in green.


Football came home in 1996, we didn’t get involved, in 1998 and 2000 likewise until the master tactician Mick McCarthy returned us to the greatest stage once again. We dreamed of the start of another golden era, young bucks like Robbie Keane, Duffer and Dunne who were inspired as children by the exploits of Jack Charlton’s team were ready to take the baton and run with it. Then the wheels game off, the great civil war of 2002 threatened to pit brother against brother and overshadow the greatest show on earth, but we knuckled down and once more emerged from our group in the World Cup finals. It was the young bucks that made it happen. We drew with the Cameroon, before the other Keane's injury time goal versus Germany meant we needed to beat the Saudis to progress, and beat them we did, goals from Keane, Breen and Duff. This time we were drawn against Spain when it went to penalties we all dreamed of 1990 but it was not to be. We came home too early again, wondering would it have been different with the elder Keane, or did Mick know Spain were down to 10 men for most of the extra time.


And that was that until now 24 years later we may be starting again, my 8 year old son can't believe Leinster are European Champions, the Dubs are top of the pile again and Ireland are going to a major championship. He attended the playoff game against France in Croker and like most kids his age has a deep distrust for all things French, but last Friday he got to celebrate as a soccer fan. He amended 'Give it a Lash Jack' at 1-0, tried to rhyme Ukraine at 2-0, at 3-0 he was singing Joxer went to Warsaw and I believe he shed a tear at 4-0. He went to bed as did we all dreaming of the summer of 2012 when we are going to party like it's 1988. We may even buy tricolour boxer shorts!