Tweet
The Times, UK
Sept 9 2005
Joyous postscript to tales of goal famine and lost luggage
By David McVay
IT WAS rumours of a devastating flood that inspired Noah, so the
story goes, to build his Ark on top of Mount Ararat, which borders
Armenia and gazes down upon its capital, Yerevan. Below, in the
country's national stadium one Saturday in late March two years ago,
the topic of conversation was also of a drought, a goal drought to be
precise. Rumours of it raining goals proved unfounded.
In the press box that day, the blood appeared to be draining from
Malcolm Brodie, the highly respected Irish journalist who has covered
Northern Ireland for more than half a century. The great man's
thermals could not prevent the cold of an Armenian spring afternoon
creeping into every joint.
To suggest that this was one of the more enjoyable occasions for a
Northern Ireland correspondent might be a trifle misleading. But only
a trifle. Reporting on Northern Ireland requires a specialist
survival kit. A thick skin, for climate and criticism; fortitude and
a strong constitution for the compulsory drowning of sorrows in Irish
bars from Crete to Copenhagen; fake contact lenses with active
centres to conceal the glazed look that engulfs the senses during
extended periods of boredom, ie, 1,298 minutes without scoring a
goal, and, of course, an optimism that might attract a visit from the
men in white coats after four years without a victory in meaningful
competition.
In Yerevan in 2003, Sammy McIlroy's European Championship venture had
already disintegrated when Artur Petrosyan scored a late winner to
claim a rare win for the home team. However, it is far better to lose
on a foreign field, bereft of a goal once more, than to surrender
meekly at Windsor Park.
One-nil to ten-man Canada; 2-0 to Greece and several nondescript
goalless draws with Ukraine, Cyprus and the Magaluf Waiters XI
gathering for an annual bash in Belfast.
While many have suffered for the cause, so have the players. When
McIlroy began the Euro 2004 campaign with a game away to Spain in
October 2002, the squad, the fans and the press corps went to
Valencia. Sadly, the training kit and some football boots headed for
Madrid. Then Barcelona, before being reunited with their owners two
days later.
Even a victory over Malta in October 2001, the last occasion that the
side had completed back-to-back wins was disrupted by turbulence,
literally, on the return trip.
So is it any wonder the green wig mops jigged and drank in the
streets of Belfast into the small hours on Wednesday night after
their team beat England at Windsor Park for the first time in 78
years? Can you blame the likes of David Healy, the match-winner, for
celebrating as if they had won the World Cup rather than secured
fourth place in group six? Or the journalists who have witnessed the
bad in Baku and the ugly in Ukraine for punching the air when Healy
scored? `As a practising Christian I believe in David and Goliath and
I was praying to God that that would happen and it did,' Stuart
Elliott, the Hull City forward, said. The mouse roared indeed. The
three lions trembled.
Sept 9 2005
Joyous postscript to tales of goal famine and lost luggage
By David McVay
IT WAS rumours of a devastating flood that inspired Noah, so the
story goes, to build his Ark on top of Mount Ararat, which borders
Armenia and gazes down upon its capital, Yerevan. Below, in the
country's national stadium one Saturday in late March two years ago,
the topic of conversation was also of a drought, a goal drought to be
precise. Rumours of it raining goals proved unfounded.
In the press box that day, the blood appeared to be draining from
Malcolm Brodie, the highly respected Irish journalist who has covered
Northern Ireland for more than half a century. The great man's
thermals could not prevent the cold of an Armenian spring afternoon
creeping into every joint.
To suggest that this was one of the more enjoyable occasions for a
Northern Ireland correspondent might be a trifle misleading. But only
a trifle. Reporting on Northern Ireland requires a specialist
survival kit. A thick skin, for climate and criticism; fortitude and
a strong constitution for the compulsory drowning of sorrows in Irish
bars from Crete to Copenhagen; fake contact lenses with active
centres to conceal the glazed look that engulfs the senses during
extended periods of boredom, ie, 1,298 minutes without scoring a
goal, and, of course, an optimism that might attract a visit from the
men in white coats after four years without a victory in meaningful
competition.
In Yerevan in 2003, Sammy McIlroy's European Championship venture had
already disintegrated when Artur Petrosyan scored a late winner to
claim a rare win for the home team. However, it is far better to lose
on a foreign field, bereft of a goal once more, than to surrender
meekly at Windsor Park.
One-nil to ten-man Canada; 2-0 to Greece and several nondescript
goalless draws with Ukraine, Cyprus and the Magaluf Waiters XI
gathering for an annual bash in Belfast.
While many have suffered for the cause, so have the players. When
McIlroy began the Euro 2004 campaign with a game away to Spain in
October 2002, the squad, the fans and the press corps went to
Valencia. Sadly, the training kit and some football boots headed for
Madrid. Then Barcelona, before being reunited with their owners two
days later.
Even a victory over Malta in October 2001, the last occasion that the
side had completed back-to-back wins was disrupted by turbulence,
literally, on the return trip.
So is it any wonder the green wig mops jigged and drank in the
streets of Belfast into the small hours on Wednesday night after
their team beat England at Windsor Park for the first time in 78
years? Can you blame the likes of David Healy, the match-winner, for
celebrating as if they had won the World Cup rather than secured
fourth place in group six? Or the journalists who have witnessed the
bad in Baku and the ugly in Ukraine for punching the air when Healy
scored? `As a practising Christian I believe in David and Goliath and
I was praying to God that that would happen and it did,' Stuart
Elliott, the Hull City forward, said. The mouse roared indeed. The
three lions trembled.