My Irish World Cup Campaign 1990.

I first went to Ireland in the summer of 1990. I caught the train to Swansea to catch the Swansea -Cork ferry. Ireland were playing in the World Cup that afternoon. They were playing Romania for a place in the last eight. In a Swansea pub I asked the barman could he put the telly on so I could watch the match.

"We are not interested in football in here, you have to put 20p in the charity box for mentioning football".

Jack Charlton.

I ignored him and sat in a corner, A coven of old women were seated at a table next to me talking in negative terms about somebody called Dorothy who wasn't there. Then Dorothy came in and they said how nice it was to see her. It was all very depressing, and I was glad to get on the boat. It was very strange because all the crew were Greek. The boat had previously been chugging around the Greek isles until it was sold and moved to Ireland, and the crew had come along as well. After a couple of pints, I fell asleep in a reclining chair. The Irish Sea was as smooth as a mill pond and I slept well. When I awoke it was light. I looked out of the window and there was Ireland in the distance. It was exciting, my first sight of the land of my ancestors. It looked beautiful, all rocky and green. Before long I had disembarked and set foot on the holy ground. As the bus carried me into Cork, I noticed one or two statues of the virgin Mary by the side of the road and knew that this was a spiritual land and not some god-forsaken heathen place. When I arrived in the fine city of Cork I noticed that everybody was smiling. The country was going mad because Ireland had won the match and were in the quarter-finals. At the big cinema in the town centre they had taken down the name of the film and in great big letters it now said,

GOOD LUCK TO JACK'S LADS-GIVE IT A LASH.

Cork.

Although it was only about 10.00 in the morning, I thought a quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm. Seated on a bench at the side of the bar was a little old man in a great big overcoat and a trilby who looked about 80. We got chatting and I told him I had just got off the boat.

"Do you like Ireland?"

"Oh yes, my parents are from Ireland".

"But would you like to be buried here?"

"It's a bit early in the day to be thinking about that sort of thing, have you always lived in Cork?"

"Most of it, I have had a most unfortunate life. When I was young and popular, I played the accordion at all the weddings, then I met this woman. Everybody told me to have nothing to do with her, but I was young and foolish and married her. She suffered terribly with the nerves, my life was a living hell, I never went out for about 40 years".

We had a great chat, he bought me a pint and I bought him one and he told me his whole life story. Although he told me his life was one misery after another I could tell he was half joking. After an hour I thought I should get a move on. I told him I was on my way to County Kerry to visit some friends, and he told me I should go to County Clare where half of them were mad and the other half were schoolteachers. and to visit his friend Two Acre McDermott who grew two acres of spuds and could not sell them, so he had to eat them all himself. I said cheerio to my new pal and caught the bus to the outskirts of Cork. On the Killarney road I stuck my thumb out and quickly got a lift with a travelling salesman who was listening to the radio. Ireland is the home of the phone in radio show. All day is like one long conversation. A bank manager had phoned in about the Irish fans out in Italy who had expected to only be away a few days and now it was going into weeks. The bank manager said he had some advice for the fans,

"Come home lads, you can't afford it, for god’s sake come home!"

The man who gave me a lift asked if I had seen the match the day before and I told him I had missed it, thinking back ruefully to the pub in Wales.

"Oh, it was great, the best game of football I’ve ever seen, the atmosphere was unbelievable!"

Then he proceeded to give me a commentary on the whole game from the kick-off. He described it in minute detail. He suddenly noticed somebody he knew walking along the road and stopped for a chat.

"Hello there Michael, how’s the form?"

"Ah, taking it easy and doing a bit".

 I had never seen this in England, people stopping a car to have a chat with someone. They talked about the weather for about 10 minutes including the long-range forecast and they said goodbye and he carried on his story.

"Now John Aldridge had to go off with an injured foot, Jack Charlton was now faced with a terrible dilemma, should he bring on Ronnie Whelan although he wasn't match fit". This went on and the way he related the penalty shoot-out at the end was better than being at the game itself.

"And David O'Leary stepped up and buried the ball in the back of the net, Ireland had won a great victory".

He went right out of his way to drop me at the Blackwater Bridge Inn to meet my friends and wouldn't accept anything in return. 'What a great country this is' , I thought. I've only been in it about four hours and made two friends already'. My friends lived in a little cottage in a valley surrounded by the most sublime scenery I have ever seen. They didn't have a telly, so that evening Steve and myself went to the pub to watch England play Belgium. We were still in there at midnight. The Landlord said,

"Well, I’m off to bed lads, help yourself to a drink and let yourselves out through the shop".

I had never seen this in England either, being left in a pub to help yourself. It is called trust. An hour later we put the money on the counter and quietly closed the door behind us as we left. The next few days I saw as much of Kerry as possible. Steve drove me around the Ring Of Kerry which has everything, lakes, mountains and beautiful beaches to explore. One day I hitched to the town of Kenmare and in Crowley’s pub I helped Mrs Crowley with her crossword. Another day Steve & Jane took me to Sneem where I had a pint sitting on the stone outside Dan Murphy’s. The time passed quickly and a few days later I was back in Cork.

The place was buzzing with excitement. Tonight, Ireland were playing the Host nation and Favourites Italy for a place in the semi-final. I watched the match in a pub called The Phoenix. Italy took the lead through a goal by Scilaci and Ireland battled away, but try as they could, they couldn't break down the Italian defence. Also, a major weakness in Ireland’s team was that they lacked an effective striker. With ten minutes to go they brought on Tony Cascarino. I thought this is ironic, the Irish man with the Italian name will score. It wasn't to be however, and Italy hung on for victory. The dream was over, but for a couple of heady weeks in 1990 Ireland had been on the world stage fighting it out with the great footballing nations. The next day I was sailing away from Ireland, back towards Swansea. I had spent all my money, so, sat on deck and watched Ireland disappear into the distance. I knew in the bars they would be having a drink and taking it easy and doing a bit, and I knew I would return.

Me outside Dan Murphy's.