Don't Take Me Home, Please Don't Take Me Home….

Don't take me home, please don't take me home, I just don't wanna go to work! I wanna stay here, And drink all your beer! Please, please, please don't take me home! The refrain of the Euro's so far has been ringing around the host cities as the group stages of the tournament reached their business end and after listening to the England, Wales and Northern Ireland fans singing it over the previous few days, it was our moment of truth on Wednesday night.

As has been the norm with this tournament, the sheer size of France has meant that different groups of us have taken different routes and stopovers on the way. This meant that myself and Lou had left Bordeaux on Sunday morning along with Terry the Tash and a handful of London Irish for a two day stopover in the very nice city of Tours.  Leaving Bordeaux had been pretty non eventful, bar the obligatory customer service debacle at check out when the girl who'd been looking after the apartment rental arrived to check we hadn't trashed the place and on discovering that we hadn't, then revealed that she'd forgotten to bring back our €300 security deposit.  Cue a number of frantic phone calls on her part and a 15 minute wait outside the door before a colleague sped up on a bike with cash in hand!  Luckily, we'd given ourselves a good bit of time to make our train so no harm done.

On sitting down in the carriage, I noticed Borussia, another YBIG stalwart on the train, who I'd met on numerous trips previously, lastly in La Rochelle,  so it was good to see there'd be a good crew up for a bit of craic over the couple of ‘rest’ nights in Tours.  As it happened, we were all staying in the same hotel, a fairly basic Ibis budget but as those hotels go, this one was pretty decent.  Clean and comfortable with an en suite and decent wifi so all good.  Once we'd dropped our bags off  we took a wander down to the old town where we found an ‘Irish’ bar called The Pale showing the Tipp v. Limerick Munster hurling semi so we settled in there for a couple of surprisingly decent pints of Guinness before moving up to the main square for dinner with Borussia and his crowd. The weather was decent and there was a good buzz with the locals as France were playing their final group game v. Switzerland that evening and a few of the bars and restaurants had TV's turned to face the square where people had gathered to eat. Unfortunately, the game did little to enhance the atmosphere as both sides played out the nil all draw that ensured the Swiss would join the French in the next phase. France had done enough to top their group and the hope that everyone had was that Italy, having already topped our group, would take a similarly lacklustre approach to our game on Wednesday.

Once the game was over, we decided that we'd head back to The Pale to try and cheer Shane Lowry on to a maiden Major victory in the US Open but unfortunately the wheels had started to come off that particular bandwagon by the time we got back there. The pub had gotten packed with Irish fans since we'd left and there was a real party atmosphere going on with the Shane Long chant being changed to “Lowry’s on fire! Dustin Johnson’s terrified!” but as Shane's putter was anything but on fire on the back 9 it was clear fairly soon that his challenge was unravelling quicker than our defence had the previous day. The one bright moment came when the Korean American golfer, Kevin Na, was lining up a putt and as soon as his name came up on screen, the entire pub stopped for a second as if to say “Are you thinking what I'm thinking? “ and simultaneously burst into a chorus of ‘“Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na! “! By the time Lowry was walking up to the 17th tee, it was clear his race was run but it still would have been nice to see the end of the round. However, in time honoured French service industry fashion, once the clock struck 2 am, the bar staff insisted on turning off the tellies and moving everyone onto the street despite our pleas for a last ten minutes to watch the finish!  A disappointing end to a disappointing weekend for Irish sport and I've not even mentioned the egg chasers.

Monday morning in Tours brought rain which pretty much stayed down for the day.  Despite this, myself and Lou used the day for a bit of sightseeing and relaxing. A nice 3 course meal in a really good local restaurant and the second half of the England and Wales games was enough for us before grabbing an early night in advance of what we knew was likely to be a couple of hectic days in Lille. As with La Rochelle, Tours was a lovely place to visit and a bit more time would have been nice but there were more important things ahead and by the time we got off the train in Lille and out to our airport hotel, it was time to put the game face on again!

Even though it was only Tuesday at this stage, there was a bit of a Friday feel to the city by the time we arrived in.  The Tir Na Nog was the Irish bar that had been designated as the unofficial meeting point and there was already a decent crowd and good atmosphere outside when we arrived.  It's generally been our modus operandi to check out the meeting place first to get our bearings before moving outwards to find slightly quieter bars and squares and after a swift Guinness in Tir Na Nog, we got a call from Gary and Lina, who'd been with us in La Rochelle, saying that they'd found a spot outside a local bar about 5 minutes away.  There was an army of green moving towards the square Tir Na Nog was situated on by then. So after grabbing a pizza in a proper old school Italian take away, where, in contrast to pretty much everywhere else, the proprietor was determined to serve as many people as possible and make as much cash as he could, we headed over to Gary and Lina for the second half of the Northern Ireland game.

Once we arrived, we sent the address around to the rest of our crew that had landed in Lille by then and before long, the Brummies, Quinn Towers and various others had arrived and we had some good old craic watching the North somehow hold out against a German onslaught to only lose 1-0 and then see their qualification confirmed as the Czechs were beaten by Turkey and Croatia produced a great performance to come from behind and beat Spain 2-1.  I'd said from the off that 3 points with a neutral goal difference should be enough to qualify but it was ourselves rather than the North that I had expected to get that total.  Congrats and hats off to them but it certainly ramped up the pressure on our boys to at least go as far as them for the bragging rights on the island we call home.  With Wales and England already through, and surprisingly finishing in that order in their group, it would have been hard to take being the first of the four neighbouring teams to exit.

A call from Steve Amsterdam saying that his crowd had now touched down at Tir Na Nog brought us back up that direction and there were further reunions with more of the La Rochelle crew.  The chanting and singing had got going by now and while it was rowdy enough, the sheer carnage that was visible in Paris and Bordeaux wasn't on display here.  It wasn't long before the Tir Na Nog closed it's bar (again, no late licences?) but a few of the boys had found another open bar called After Hours so we headed down there to finish the night.  The travelling had taken it's toll a bit at this stage so by about 3, myself and herself decided to bail back to the hotel. We had seen a few taxis in town when we arrived and out by the airport so had hoped to be able to flag one handy enough but as with Bordeaux this proved a problem. And the problem was exacerbated by the fact that, unlike in Bordeaux, we were stuck out in an airport hotel due to the lack of available accommodation in the city centre. After about 20 minutes of wandering, I hit on the idea of ordering an Uber. But our second problem was that neither of us have been able to get 3G coverage over here so we couldn't get onto the app! By chance we spotted a shisha pipe smoking bar with a wifi sign on the window so chanced our arm on going in to use it. I got chatting to the guy running it and tried to explain that we'd happily buy something to smoke if we could use the wifi to order an Uber. Despite my lack of French and his lack of English, I thought I'd made myself understood but next thing, instead of producing a pipe, he arrived back with another guy and said this guy would take us back for €40!  We'd been told by a few lads at the hotel that it was between €16 and €20 for an Uber to the hotel when they'd used it and our taxi in earlier had been €22 so the haggle had to begin with us offering €20 before we finally agreed on €30! This didn't stop the driver trying to renegotiate on the drive out but needless to say, he didn't get very far with that! Anyway, we had a bit of a laugh with him and he got us home in one piece so all ended well! One more sleep till Gameday 3.

Considering what was at stake, I'd had a nervy night's sleep but, given the 9 pm kick off didn't want to head into the city too early. However, by half one we were going a bit stir crazy so ordered a cab in which we shared with another couple of lads from the hotel. One of the best thing about trips like this is the sense of camaraderie between total strangers and we'd a good old natter with the boys on the way in.  Another is the friendships you build with those that travel regularly and, as we walked up to the square, we bumped into Saint Tom heading the other direction, had a quick catch up with Borussia as he was queuing for a steak, met my old pal from Bohs, Matt and then met another pal, Bradley on the square itself!  We had planned on meeting up with the gang at Place Charles de Gaulle but in the meantime had got a call from my Da and his mates who were grabbing food down the road by the train station. As they were heading back to their hotel before the match, we wandered down to find them in a packed cafe where they'd been waiting an hour for their food.  We sat down beside them and tried to order food only to be refused because it was now 10 seconds past 3 and they stopped lunch at 3! Wouldn't even do us an omelette!  As we were famished by now, we nipped into the first place we found across the road, got a beer and asked for the menu. Amazingly, the service was actually pretty decent so before long we were fed and watered and I'd given Da and his crew a nod to come and join us when they were finished. There were a few Italians over beside a group of Irish fans who asked me to get a pic of them all.  Maybe it was a sign of how things were going to turn out later but it was funny to see that the Italians were drinking beer and the Irish lads drinking wine when I took the photo!

The place was starting to fill up when Da and Co. joined us and we had a great couple of hours swapping stories of how our trips had gone since Bordeaux. Although Da has been on a good few of the qualifier trips over the years, this was the first tournament since US 94 that we've both been on so it was great to spend a bit of time with him in the tournament environment.  And, speaking of US 94, I had realised the previous day that I had with me the very shirt I was wearing in Giants stadium when Ray Houghton scored the winner v. Italy on that famous day so had made the suitably superstitious decision to dust it off and stick it on for today's game. Luckily, mid 90’s football shirt design was the baggier the better so fitting into it wasn't a problem!  And as I was wearing a suitably 90’s green baseball cap backwards in 94, it was only right that the look be topped off with similar. Unfortunately, there was no potion available to magic my hair back but I don't think I carried the look too badly given the 22 years that have elapsed since! Or more likely I looked a fool but what the hell! 

It was now about 5:30 in the evening so there were still a few hours to kick off by the time we moved back to the square. The place was thronged by now with flags and green shirts everywhere. The fountain was overflowing with suds after someone had put washing up liquid into it which was giving off a bit of a foam party vibe and there were footballs being kicked everywhere as thousands of Irish and a few Italians milled around, chatting, laughing and chanting. The Italian support generally don't tend to travel in numbers as they're always confident of progression to the latter stages of tournaments so there were literally hundreds if not thousands of Irish fans to every Italian around and the closer it got to kick off the more the atmosphere built.  By the time it came to get the train out to the ground, there was a huge gang of us with the whole Amsterdam crowd, the Brummies, the Quinns and their pal Conor all in tow. We all headed to the metro with chants of Allez Les Verts from any of the locals we came across but our merry band was broken up pretty quickly when we got to the metro and the usual shambolic security.  Most of us were held on the top of the stairs despite the platform being empty below and in the resultant push to get on the train when it finally arrived most of us ended up in different carriages.  Regardless, the buzz on the train was quality and we bellowed out everything from the usual McGrath and Breen chants to the newer John O'Shea's a legend and Shake it up Brady chants from this campaign.  The carriage was rocking by the time we got to the nearest stop to the stadium and on the 15 minute walk up we bumped into a few of the gang again and a few we hadn't seen earlier including our Bosnian friend, Braveheart, who'd been such a help to YBIG when we were in Sarajevo.  Despite losing the play off, he's been travelling around France for the tournament and it was great to catch up with him before the game. 

As we were queueing to get in, the word came through that Iceland had got a late winner v. Austria and Portugal had failed to beat Hungary meaning that, should we win, we'd be facing France down in Lyon.  While I would have preferred to play Croatia in Lens, which is only about 20 odd miles from Lille, there is something special about playing the host nation at a major tournament. Add in the small matter of a chance for revenge for the famous Thierry Henry handball in the World Cup play off in 2009 and, if the team needed any further motivation to do a job on the Italians then this was surely it.  Although there was no discernable queuing system once again, we actually managed to get through easily enough and got in in time to get a good spot to hang the flag and be at our seats in plenty of time for the anthems.  We even had time to recreate the photo I'd had taken all those years ago in Giants stadium in front of the original 69ers flag!  Two of the lads who'd soldiered through Poland with us, Niall and Quirke were in the seats beside us along with Niall's Da and brother so there was a good crowd of us to roar out the anthem and share round the nerves before kick off. 

Martin O'Neill had been brave enough to ring the changes for this game as his captain O'Shea, Clark, Whelan and Hoolahan all made way for Keogh, Duffy, McClean and Murphy.  While I had worries about the fact that we were relying on a player up front who'd failed to score in 20 plus caps and if Hoolahan was to be rested, I'd have done so against Belgium but I was delighted to see Shane Duffy brought in for his competitive debut and the team was more attacking than the one which had been rumoured the previous couple of days. As expected, the Italian manager had rested 6 of the 7 players on yellow cards and made two other changes so it was a radically different side to that which had won it's first two games. While it was a concern that the players they'd brought in would be playing for a place in the last 16, the Italians have a reputation for only doing the minimum required in the group stages so it was still a comfort that they'd already topped the group regardless of results due to their earlier win over Belgium.  The fact that Buffon was rested was a huge bonus for us and as it's been a feature of O'Neill's reign that we've bounced back from poor results with good performances, I was hopeful we'd see similar again.  Before we knew it after the anthems it was time for the ridiculous new countdown from 10 to kick off and a huge roar came up from our end as it was game on! 

From the off, it was clear that in effort and application at least, this was a significant step up from the Belgium game. Although Italy had a little bit more possession early on and were first to get a couple of corners on the board, we were biting into tackles and making life uncomfortable for them. While we were tending to rely on long balls to Murphy, they weren't comfortable with that tactic and on 9 minutes, Murphy got on the end of a punt to knock it back to Hendrick who moved forward and hammered a left footed shot just over the top left angle of post and crossbar. This roused the crowd even further and our aggressive approach really seemed to be rattling the opposition. Our next real chance came on 20 minutes with what I think was our first corner when Murphy got a header to a Brady delivery forcing the the Italian reserve, Sirigu, to tip the ball over for another corner. Although the second corner came to nothing, there were encouraging signs that there was something for us in this game. 

I know all fans bitch and moan that referrees are biased against them but no one can deny that we've had a raw deal this tournament. Although Belgium deservedly beat us, had we been awarded what was a stone wall penalty when it was nil all, they may have panicked and it could have developed into a different game.  And similar was visible here, as first off Long got clearly shoved off the ball just outside the area without a foul being blown and then about 5 minutes later was taken out by what looked a forearm smash from Bonucci only for the ref to award a free out.  The confidence we were playing with was personified by Randolph in goals pulling off a Cruyff turn to leave Zaza looking a fool although it's never good for the heart to see a keeper try the likes of that!  

As mentioned earlier, it was a bonus that Buffon had been rested and his replacement was looking decidedly windy and not more so than when himself and Long got involved in some argy bargy 5 minutes before half time resulting in both betting booked.  Sirigu had shoved him in the chest and looked like he absolutely shit himself as Long responded by fronting up to him and roaring into his face which seemed to put the fear of God into him.  This ratcheted up the atmosphere another notch but that was nothing compared to 5 minutes later when Murphy played the ball into McClean who dropped the shoulder to get a shot off only to get barged in the back by Bernardeschi. Once again, it was as clear cut a penalty as you'll ever see and once again the ref didn't give it.  It's fair to say that the anger in our end at that end of the pitch was palpable and the remainder of the half was played out to a chorus of boos and whistles which only increased as the ref walked off the pitch.  Still, it had been a very positive first half for us but if the game was going to finish level then there's no doubt that that decision would have been the one pointed to above any other. 

My phone was buzzing with texts from home all through half time giving out about the penalty decision and so had everyone's around me so there was a real sense of injustice in our end as the second half began.  I always prefer when the team is attacking the goal we're behind and the support was determined to make a difference and suck the ball in if we could.  The team started the half in aggressive fashion again with McClean and Long getting stuck in from the off to give away a couple of frees.  But Italy were still creating little and although clear cut chances were at a minimum, we were still the dominant side.  Time seemed to be moving fairly quickly,  the heat under the closed roof of the stadium seemed to be getting more and more oppressive in the stands so I can only imagine what it was like on the pitch but the lads kept pushing on. Murphy went off for McGeady and as we entered the last 20 minutes I really started thinking that our lads were beginning to pay the price for the effort they'd put in.  The Italian keeper was still looking shaky and had flapped at a McClean cross but the Italians were getting more of a foothold and our hearts were in our mouths on 77 minutes as Insigne broke through and cannoned a shot off the post. Moments later O'Neill rolled the dice again and threw on Wes Hoolahan for McCarthy.  We were entering the last chance salon now. 

This seemed to reinvigorate us somewhat as we weathered a spell of Italian possession and Wes starting influencing proceedings.  But with 6 minutes to go, we were convinced our chance was gone.  Hoolahan had been played through on the right hand side of the box and found himself one on one with the keeper. It looked easier to score than not but he seemed to freeze for a second and placed his shot straight at the keeper!  He could also have played it to Long who was free in the centre so everyone in the stand seemed to look at each other and say that was the chance.  

That miss would have been enough for a lot of players to put their head down and hide but fair play to Hoolahan as he kept going and within a minute found himself back on the ball after we'd regained possession and McGeady played the ball out wide to him.  What happened next will go down in the annals of Irish football history along with Houghton's goals v. Italy and England and Robbie's equaliser v. Germany in Japan. Wes looked up and played a perfect ball into the centre of the box. Sirgiu charged out but he was never getting there before Robbie Brady who smacked a header past him and into the back of the net!  Well, what can I say about the scenes that followed! The mood of despair following the missed chance moments before changed to one of elation, relief, disbelief and whatever else you want to throw into the mix!  There's a famous line in The Italian Job where Micheal Caine says "You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!". Our Italian job nearly blew the bloody roof off!  I grabbed Louise and we bounced around grabbing anyone near us as we roared our heads off. I actually had to lean onto the back of the seat to try and regain my breath after about a minute of this with the heat in the ground.  Robbie Keane had been waiting to come on in a last throw of the dice just before the goal but this plan was immediately changed as Quinn came on for Long to shore things up.  My memory was flashing back to that night in Croke Park when Sean St Ledger had put us 2-1 up only for Italy to equalise straight after back in 2009 but back then, Italy needed the point to secure World Cup qualification whereas now they had nothing to play for.  Still, the clock suddenly seemed to slow down as we entered stoppage time and screamed for the final whistle.  We had one false alarm when Martin O'Neill mistook the ref's whistle for a foul for full time but moments later the whistle blew for real and that was that.  We were there! 

The celebrations in the ground were emotional to say the least and you could see what it meant to the players as they came down to acknowledge the fans as The Fields of Athenry rang around the stadium.  And when we did make our way out of the ground it was hugs and high fives all the way back to the train and on the train back to the city.  The security at the station even softened their approach as the one person who was insisting on thousands of us queueing to buy train tickets was overruled by a supervisor who just told us to get on the train and get back to the city. 

When we arrived back at Lille Flanders and came up the escalator onto the concourse the scenes that greeted us were just incredible.  The entire balcony had Irish flags draped over it as thousands of Irish supporters bellowed out The Fields once again. I've seen some of the videos since but even they can't capture the joyousness on display, it really was emotional.  We made our way back to meet some of the others at the square where most of the bars had already closed but got a heads up from the Quinns who'd found a bar called Crazy Lounge open about a ten minute walk away so the gang of us made our way there to hook up with them and spent the next couple of hours just soaking in the atmosphere.  To be honest, I was that drained after the game and the heat that by around 3, myself and Lou decided to grab some food and on finding everything closed, cut our losses and made our way back to the taxi rank to get back to the hotel and crash. The walk back was class as we serenaded every fan we met with our new "Hey, Robbie Brady, Ooh Ahh, I Wanna Know Oh Oh, How You Scored That Goal!" and it was clear the craic would be ninety till the morning but with plans to make tomorrow, it was time to leave it to the youths! 

You have to give immense credit to the management and the team for the way they bounced back from the Belgium defeat and the fact that Italy had nothing to play for shouldn't take away from that.  The game had to be won and they did it.  And while we may not score many goals, we've now beaten the World Champions 1-0 in a must win game in qualifying and done the same to another traditional powerhouse in Italy.  We've consistently fought to the end and scored numerous late goals to prove it.  The team goes on to the end and so do we!  Lyon, here we come!  France, we owe you one! 

Bordeaux? Bordeaun't More Like....

Unfortunately, we just couldn't come up with a performance to match the beauty of the city and it looks an uphill task to progress from the group at this stage.  A combination of Belgium's poor performance against Italy, rumours of discontent in their camp and a hope that we could build on our first 50 minutes against the Swedes had led me to think we could possibly take a point away from Bordeaux but our limitations were ruthlessly exposed by a Belgian side who clicked to devastating effect in the second half.

The after effects of Paris had been treated by a great few days in the picturesque port town of La Rochelle where an estimated 1,500 Irish fans had gathered for some rest and recreation before moving en masse to Bordeaux.  Myself and a good YBIG crew had wined and dined from Tuesday till Friday and my better half had arrived on Thursday to join the ranks of the green army for our final two group games.  After ten of us had a final meal out on Thursday, myself and Louise spent Friday morning getting a nice breakfast by the port and exploring the town before we got an afternoon train down to Bordeaux where we had an apartment rented for the next two days.  As the other lads I'd travelled with had spent an extra night in Paris, we got in touch with them as soon as we arrived and arranged to meet outside The Connemara, an Irish bar that seemed to have been designated the congregation spot for the weekend. A call from my Da, who had arrived over for the last two group games with a gang of his mates meant that we stopped off at a bar beside the fanzone en route to meet up with them and there was a huge crowd gathered there already.  That end of the town was dominated by the Belgian support but there was a great atmosphere between both sets of fans, although the Belgians were definitely winning the chanting battles there!  However, that all changed the further down the town we moved as the numbers in green swelled and by the time we got to The Connemara, there were very few Belgian colours to be seen and the street was swarming with thousands of Irish fans, chanting and dancing with the usual abandon and making as much noise as possible.

Although the tournament has gone off without a hitch so far, it has to be said that there does seem to be a bit of a laisee faire attitude in terms of organisation from both the organisers and the service industry. Taxis seem to be practically non existent and getting served anywhere there's a huge crowd gathered is nigh on impossible.  I'm amazed that bars and cafes in certain areas haven't put on extra staff to deal with the demand as they're missing out on an absolute fortune. This has resulted in the majority of fans hitting the supermarkets for carry outs and drinking out on the streets. Given how many Irish fans travel to tournaments and given the scenes outside the Moulin Rouge over the couple of days either side of the Sweden game I'm also amazed that there have been no portaloos installed anywhere that big crowds are gathering. Despite the self congratulatory coverage our support has been getting in the media back home, this again resulted in hundreds of lads urinating on the nearest wall they could find and while the levels of mayhem were not as full on as in Paris, it wasn't pleasant to be consistently avoiding pools of vomit and urine in addition to the broken glass strewn everywhere. Although I'm a bit long in the tooth to be in the thick of the crowd leading the chants these days, it's been a different level of madness over here and while there's no malice involved,  the level of messiness with the drink is beyond what I've seen at any tournament before.  I have to say the media coverage at home has gone over the top as well, we've always behaved impeccably at tournaments before but the reporting on web sites of how great we are seems to bear the hallmarks of click bait and in the same way that the social media culture seems to be encouraging lads to try and out do each other in the bravado stakes, the media seem desperate to produce the story that proves that our fans are even sounder than they were the previous day.  It's a bit tiresome at this stage and the old adage about self praise being no praise is ringing true.
Due to all the above we found a spot far enough away from the main crowd to avoid the worst of the messiness and after an aborted attempt to order a Guinness in The Connemara, settled for drinking a couple of cans with the rest of the gang.  All 7 of the lads that are the season ticket holders for the home games with me were over for the trip and although Frank, Greg and Philly were with me in Paris, this was the first time the 7 of us had met up so we had a good bit of craic catching up with how we'd got on so far.  There was a Pizza Hut around the corner which seemed to be doing a roaring trade judging by the amount of Pizza Boxes on display so myself and Louise headed that direction for a bite to eat but instead found a really nice Brazilian restaurant and decided to stop there for a slap up meal.  Funnily enough, we got chatting to a couple of lads at the table next to us from Swords who knew a few of the lads we know from out that way proving that regardless of how far away you go you really have to mind your p's and q's!

After we'd eaten we rejoined the rest of the gang but by the time we'd finished the wine we'd brought over from the restaurant the heavens opened and after sheltering for about half an hour decided to make a break for home. Had there been any taxis on the streets they'd have made a fortune but again there were none to be spotted so we trudged home sheltering where we could.  We even stopped in another restaurant / bar but after sitting for 20 minutes waiting  for the drinks we'd ordered, we got tired of it, just left it and trudged the rest of the way home through the rain.  Another example of the lack of customer service that's been prevalent on the trip so far!
After a good night's rest we got on the road relatively early (well, at noon anyway!) and met up with a few of the gang on the far side of the fanzone after the obligatory dive for shelter from another torrential downpour to make our way out to the ground.  The trams were packed with fans of both teams and there were chants being swapped back and forth as we tried to ignore the fact that the amount on board meant that it felt like we were travelling in a sauna!  The stadium was a fair distance out from the city so by the time we got off the shuttle bus from the terminus we had to make our way straight up to the gate to get in for kick off.  Again, the organisation at the ground left a lot to be desired and after a very poorly organised queue we finally got to the top to be searched only for Louise to be stopped and told she couldn't get I'm straight away as this was a men's queue and she'd need to get into a ladies one.  There had been no one directing people into any gender based queues after we'd had our tickets checked and despite the fact that the ladies queue was a couple of rows across, the female security officer on duty refused to search Lou and was insisting on sending her to the back to queue again. The girls who were queueing had no problem letting Lou go ahead of them but the guard was having none of it and was taking a real jobsworth stance.  I tried to get back and argue the point but the male guards wouldn't let me across the cordon and were insisting I move on. After hanging around for about ten minutes, Louise shouted over at me to head on in as we were nearly at kick off time. The delay meant I missed the anthems and I was livid with the lack of commonsense on display by the time I got to my seat.  Surely it would make more sense to have indiscriminate queues with a number of female guards ready to step in to search the girls once they get to the top as would be the norm at any festival I've ever been to.  As it turned out, they finally let Lou through a couple of minutes later and she joined us about 3 minutes in.

So, onto the game itself. The team Martin O'Neill picked wasn't surprising given Jon Walters injury with Robbie Brady moved into midfield and Stephen Ward slotting into left back.  But the Belgian team looked a stronger one than had capitulated against Italy. I've been impressed by Carrasco for Atletico Madrid so was nervous about him starting and the fact that Kevin de Bruyne had been moved into his central position also concerned me. I was also sorry that Fellaini had dropped to the bench as I felt that his presence generally means that Belgium play more directly which would have suited us.  To be honest, we were on the back foot from the off.  There was a sign of things to come only 5 minutes in when Brady left a pass short and a quick Belgium counter ended in Randolph claiming a Carrasco cross but the speed they moved forward at felt pretty ominus. It was pretty clear early on that we seemed to be set up for a nil all draw and our only out ball seemed to be long punts at Shane Long's head.  I said after the Sweden game that if we're playing it to Long that we need to be directing balls into the channels either on the ground or at waist height, giving the defenders a decision to make to either play the ball or try and turn. But we consistently pump balls in at head height which defenders are heading clear as Long tries to play on the shoulder and get in behind.  There's very little support coming from midfield and I don't think that asking Long to hold the ball up is playing to his strengths. The fact that we were consistently giving away possession almost as soon as we had it meant that we were under solid pressure and although a series of Belgian corners and frees led to nothing of consequence, I always felt that something was round the corner for Belgium.

That something seemed to have arrived on around the half hour mark when Carrasco knocked in the rebound after a Randolph save and the roar from our end when we saw the linesman's flag go up for offside was as good as it was going to get for us. All we created in the rest of the half was a free which Clark flicked on only for none of our attackers to gamble on it and when the half time whistle came it was a huge relief after seeing a final Belgium chance from an Alderweirald header cleared off the line by Hoolahan in the final minutes of the half.
I'd hoped that Martin O'Neill would put a rocket up the players behinds during the interval but what happened within the first few minutes of the second half meant that anything he said went out the window anyway.  A rare Ireland foray forward ended up with another high ball in towards Long.  Regardless of our poor first half performance, the ref certainly hadn't helped with a number of free kicks not being awarded, a very harsh Hendrick booking and every 50/50 decision seemingly going Belgium's way.  But he excelled himself here as Long rose to head the ball and was caught from both the front and the back by high boots from Alderweirald and Vermaelen.  Everyone has seen the pictures by now and it was a stonewall penalty in my opinion.  Our entire end rose as one to appeal it but inexplicably, the ref waved play on.  Immediately, Belgium broke as Long lay on the ground and worked the ball to De Bruyne who then teed up Lukaku who skillfully bent the ball beyond Randolph into the back of the net.  It was a real double whammy and there's a further argument that, even if he wasn't awarding a penalty, the ref should have stopped play for the head injury to Long. Obviously, all that matters not,  as the ref's decision is final but it meant that our tactic of playing for a nil all was out the window.  The question now was whether we could change tack.

It didn't take long to realise that we couldn't and after that all we could muster was a speculative shot from Whelan and a couple of set plays that came to naught, we found ourselves two down on 60 minutes.  Belgium played the ball around us and into the right hand channel with ease, Munier pinging in a cross and, with our defence caught napping, Axel Witsel had a free header which he powered downwards into the goal.  Given that our average goals per game total was around the one mark in qualifying excluding the Gibraltar games, I held out no hope that we could somehow get two in half an hour against a team of Belgium's quality and it was no great surprise that when another goal came it was against us rather than for us.  A hopeful ball out of the Belgian defence from an Ireland attack on 70 minutes looked like it was going out before bending to stay in play by the right touchline just beyond the halfway mark. Hazard looked like he was unsure whether to go for it or not but his mind was made up when he saw Clark charging at it like a headless chicken and once Clark had totally mistimed his slide and missed the ball completely, he scampered down the wing, squared it to an unmarked Lukaku who calmly swept the ball home.  3-0 and now it was simply a case of whether this could overtake the Spain defeat of 4 years ago as our worst major championship defeat ever.

As it happened, Belgium seemed unconcerned about trying to utterly embarrass us by this stage and seemed to settle for the three goal victory as their fans enjoyed some synchronised arm waving which seemed to sum up how easy it was for them by now.  The game petered out amongst a rash of substitutions, none of which ever looked like having a positive impact for us and it was almost a relief when the ref blew for full time.  As usual, the fans stayed to applaud the players as they came down to acknowledge our support but there wasn't one player who could have been happy with their performance and it was a very deflated fanbase that left the stadium.

I'd arranged to meet my father after the game and given that one of our lads was still on crutches and there was a huge crowd looking to get out of the area, we decided to head back to the bar in the hotel that Da was staying in to pick through the performance and kill a couple of hours before hitting the city.  Once again, the abysmal customer service was on display once we got to the bar as their draught beer taps were all dry and they'd resorted to selling 330ml cans at a rate of €105.60 for a crate of 24!  I mean, apart from the fact that they were utterly fleecing us, who the fuck came up with a price of €105.60?!  Had they charged a flat €100 or even €110, people would have paid it but by insisting on the 60c, it meant that the time it was taking to count out change led to the queue getting bigger and more annoyed and the hotel themselves were missing the chance to make more money by not applying a bit of commonsense!  I finally went splits on a slab with the lad beside me and the 6 of us went out to the beer garden with our 2 cans each to disect the game.  A trip to the restaurant across the road fared little better as we waited for 40 minutes for our drinks order to arrive and a further half an hour for our meal by which point we were so hungry we'd almost forgotten how pissed off we were with the result.  A second generation couple over with their two kids from Derby were enduring a similar wait but we had a good chat with them and it's always nice to see another generation of Irish fans born abroad coming through the ranks and staying in touch with their roots.

Once we'd been fed we headed back into the city to meet up with a few of the others and said our goodbyes to Frank, Greg and Philly who were heading back home as they were skipping the Italy game having planned to come back for what now looks like an unlikely last 16 game.  Myself and Lou hung out around a nice bar called L'Apollo on a little square away from what was undoubtedly going to be carnage up by The Connemara.  As previously mentioned, spending hours dancing around like a loon is not how I want to spend my time after any defeat, let alone one like that but each to their own.  As it was, I bumped into a good few of the Bohs / Drumcondra crew who were over for that game and we had a good bit of craic despite the defeat before calling it a night around 2.

So, the question now is where does this leave us?  The only positive is that Italy have already topped the group and have 7 players on yellow cards so should make significant changes to their first XI.  On the negative, the players they have coming in will have a point to prove and will be looking to stake a claim for a starting place in the round of 16. The win against Germany proved that anything can happen in football but let's not forget we were under the cosh for the first hour of that game so it wasn't indicative of us being able to match their quality.  And while I think it's simplistic to point to how the North and Wales have done (Ukraine and Slovakia are nowhere near the quality of Belgium and there's no reason we wouldn't have picked up a win in an easier group), there are legitimate questions to ask of our tactical approach in comparison to our neighbours.  And that's not even getting into the debate about our grassroots football culture and development which is light years behind mainland Europe.  For all the criticism of the performance on Saturday, there is an argument that we don't have the talent to qualify out of a group such as this one or the one 4 years ago but I'll keep the post mortem until we exit the tournament whenever that may be.  We're moving on to Tours for a couple of days before making our way to Lille the day before the game where we'll hope for a miracle. As predicted, we're already rueing the 2 dropped points v Sweden but hopefully it'll be immaterial.  The illogical optimism of the football fan is already kicking in!  COYBIG!!

Bitter Swede

When it comes to tournament football, we don't really do wins. From our 19 games before yesterday, only 3 have been victories with England in 88, Italy in 94 and Saudi Arabia in 02 the only numbers under the W column. We do however seem to love draws with 1-all appearing with surprising regularity and so it proved yesterday with Sweden following Russia (88), England (90), Holland (90), Cameroon (02), Germany (02) and Spain (02) onto the list. And although there are definitely positives to be taken from the performance, it was hard not to feel a bit deflated at how we surrendered the initiative once we scored from a position of complete dominance.


The 72 hours before we left had been a little fraught, to say the least as we were due to fly with Air France on the Sunday and their pilots strike meant that there was a good chance our flight would be cancelled. And when the equivalent flight on Saturday morning was cancelled 24 hours before it was due to fly it's fair to say that a little bit of panic kicked in. I spent what seemed like half of Friday on hold in the Air France system attempting to work out a re-route but as the flight had yet to be confirmed as cancelled the only alternatives available were with the airlines affiliated to Air France such as KLM. And all of their flights from around Europe to Paris were fully booked. Eventually we managed to get a provisional booking on a flight to Amsterdam with KLM with an Air France connection to Paris. While we knew that the connection was likely to be cancelled, I also knew that Steve Amsterdam was running buses from his Molly Malone bar in the Dam so if worst came to worst we could hook up with them for the 6 hour bus ride. A quick call to him to confirm there was space and at least we had a contingency plan in place. Saturday was spent refreshing the Air France website on my phone every 10 minutes to see what the latest news with their schedule was. Although the flight wasn't showing as cancelled on the system all day, it was still a huge relief when finally, at around 7 in the evening, a notice came up stating they'd finalised their flight schedule for Sunday and we were definitely flying! Having been on the phone all day to the lads discussing our options, we were finally able to put concrete plans in place to meet at the airport at 7 on Sunday morning!

A 6am alarm is never a pleasant thing but it's tolerable before a big trip so I was able to drag myself up and Louise was good enough to drop me out to the airport where Frankie, Philly and Greg were waiting along with an army of green clad supporters. Bags were checked in and a couple of early roasters were acquired to set the tone and before we knew it, it was flight time. Given the drama of whether the plane would go or not, it was nice to have an easy uneventful flight and having touched down in Paris, we hopped a taxi to our rented apartment. Unfortunately, on arrival we discovered that you couldn't check in until 4 so there was nothing for it only to find a local hostelry to kill a couple of hours and escape the rain! It was actually closer to 5 by the time we got moving again and after a couple of hours settling in, we headed down to Montmartre to catch the second half of the Northern Ireland game and try to meet some of the lads.
While Paris is a great city to visit, the sheer size of it means that it's not as ideal as other tournament host cities I've visited. Although there was a focal point where fans gathered by the famous Moulin Rouge windmill, a lot of fans were staying in different quarters around the city and while we were able to meet up with the Quinn towers and Niall (one of our travelling party from the last Euros), the likes of the Brummies and Terry the Tash's crowd had settled down closer to where they were staying. There were also a few cousins over that I was hoping to catch but the spread of fans around the city meant this was a forlorn hope despite our best intentions. After Philly and Greg bailed out early enough, it was left to myself, Frank, Niall and the Quinns to fly the flag and with things getting a bit messy with the huge numbers drinking on the street we found a spot around the corner that was a bit quieter and wasn't charging the extortionate prices that the bars on the main streets were. If Poland was a trip where you could hardly give away cash, then France is the other end of the scale altogether with pints (actually half litres) generally costing between €6 and €10 and even the on-street off-licenses took advantage of the demand by charging upwards of €3 a can. Not that this was stopping anyone, but it's fair to say that the Credit Union accounts will take more of a hammering than they did 4 years ago! The fact that the beer on sale was generally of questionable quality (and that's being generous) meant that by 2am we were starting to flag a bit and with Gameday 1 around the corner called it a night.

The butterflies in the stomach that I normally associate with a gameday were accompanied on waking with a reminder of the questionable quality of the previous nights’ beers but after grabbing an omelette in a cafe across from the apartment, we were raring to go. Although the same issues with lads staying in different parts of the city meant we wouldn't meet up with a lot of the gang until after the game, there was a huge crowd gathered at the Moulin Rouge strip and a huge carnival atmosphere with footballs being kicked everywhere and every tourist bus that passed being serenaded with Ole Ole chants. Mr. Tayto had even made an appearance and was wobbling through the crowd throwing out bags of cheese and onion to all and sundry! We found the Quinns and soaked up the atmosphere for a few hours before giving ourselves a couple of hours to get the train out to the ground. There was the usual craic on the train out, with plenty of songs and some good natured banter with the out-numbered Swedes that we came across. And by the time we got through the various security checkpoints and up to our seats, there were about 15 minutes to kick off.

I was fortunate enough to bump into a couple of the cousins and an uncle that I'd missed the previous night who happened to be in the same section of the ground as us, so had a quick catch up with them before heading back to my seat for the anthems. I'd say at least 65% of the crowd was dressed in green and while the intensity of Amhran na bhFiann might not have reached the levels of the opener v. Croatia 4 years ago, it was still a stirring rendition and a huge cheer went up halfway through as President Michael D. flashed up on the screen singing his heart out! And then, with the formalities over and a new OTT UEFA countdown from 10 to kick off finished, the real business was underway.

The team and formation Martin O'Neill had picked was the same as I'd expected, bar his selection of Ciaran Clark at centre half. When talking about it the previous day, I'd said that I'd pick Shane Duffy in there but there really isn't much between all 4 of our centre backs so I was happy with the line up. As hoped, Wes Hoolahan started at the tip of a midfield diamond and although I had concerns about Jon Walters’ fitness, I thought it was worth the gamble given his huge impact in qualifying. The rest of the team pretty much picks itself and the set up seemed to be justified as Ireland started the game in a very positive fashion. The first real chance fell to John O'Shea when a corner was flicked on by Clark, but O'Shea just couldn't stretch to get any touch on it when even the slightest contact would have resulted in a goal. It was eerily reminiscent of the same players’ chance in the same stadium v. France 12 years ago when he'd poked a late chance wide which would have won the game for Ireland on the day. But that first opportunity was simply the beginning of a purple patch for us as we took full control of the game. With Hoolahan pulling the strings and Jeff Hendrick having his best game in a green shirt, we began to create chances at will. Next up, Hendrick got on the end of a move and got a decent shot off but it was too close to the keeper to trouble him. Then Robbie Brady made a foray forward and skimmed the bar with a fierce drive. Better followed as Hendrick drove forward again, played a neat one-two at the edge of the box and hit a beautiful strike that had the keeper beaten all ends up but just didn't dip enough and instead of rippling the net the ball crashed back off the crossbar. What looked a potential foul in the box by Martin Olsson on Shane Long followed and, although possession was even enough, all the momentum and chances were with Ireland. As we reached half time it wouldn't have been flattering to be at least a goal up, if not two.
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All the talk at half time was about whether or not we could keep up that level of dominance as we've had a habit under O'Neill of playing well for portions of games but not doing it over 90 minutes. This was the case in both qualifiers against Scotland, both games against Germany, the home game against Poland and away play off v. Bosnia. I had hoped that we'd put it to bed with our excellent home play-off game v. Bosnia and the early signs in the second half were good as we started it in the same manner as we'd finished the first with another chance coming Hendrick’s way and going begging before another attack would yield the best moment of the game. Seamus Coleman had gone on a run on the right wing and just when it looked like he was going to go past Emil Forsberg and ping a cross in from the dead ball line, he instead checked back, taking the defender out of the game and pulled the ball back to where Hoolahan was making his run about 15 yards from goal. Although the cross was onto his supposedly weaker foot, he read the bounce of the ball beautifully and caught it with his right foot just above the half volley. I can't emphasise enough how good the technique was to get his body into that position and manage to keep the ball down but manage it he did! As soon as the ball left his foot, it was only going one place. We were in the end behind that goal and had a perfect view as the ball arrowed past the keeper and nearly took the net off! And if the shot had nearly taken the net off, the roar that followed it nearly took the roof off the Stade de France! Everyone had been standing for the whole game in our section so when the ball flew in it was good old-fashioned pandemonium as lads and a few girls leapt across rows of seats in a mass explosion of emotion and celebration. It felt like all the pent up frustration going back to how poorly we'd fared in Poland had been released and the manner of the goal had just added to it. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and the guttural roar I'd let out pretty much knackered my vocal chords! Surely we could now push on and finish the Swedes off given how dominant we had been?

 

Unfortunately, as we now know, this was not to be the case. I don't know if the emotion from the stands got to the players, if the release they got from seeing the goal go in disrupted their focus or if the goal acted as a wake-up call for Sweden but almost immediately afterwards the pattern of the game completely changed. It can be easy to slip into a conservative mindset on the pitch when you have something to hold onto and throughout the campaign we have played better when we've either been at nil-all in a game or chasing a single goal deficit. This time, immediately after the goal, we started to sit back a bit deeper and suddenly the chances started to come at our end rather than theirs. Clark foreshadowed what was to come by miscuing a clearance which Randolph had to scramble to save. Forsberg shot wide and Zlatan put a shot past the post. A succession of corners had our defence creaking and our nerves were jangling in the stands as we hoped to weather the storm and see out the game. It wasn't to be. With 19 minutes left Zlatan, who had finally started to become more influential, got the ball wide on the left and having shaken off Coleman, managed to fire a cross across the box which the unfortunate Clark stooped to head into his own net as he attempted to clear it. It was a little harsh on him as he'd actually played quite well but I'd have to question if there was a need to play the ball given the pace on it and, if there was, if using his head was the correct choice with a Swedish player coming in behind him, he may not have got on the end of it but that's immaterial now.

Jon Walters had already exited the fray at this stage nursing the achilles injury that had been troubling him in the build up to the tournament and we'd seemed to lose our shape a little as James McClean came on and was drawn to his natural position on the left.  I thought he seemed to say to Hendrick to move further across but we definitely seemed a little congested in the centre at this point.  That said, immediately after their goal Hendrick managed to get a run at the Swedish defence from the right hand side only to over run the ball slightly and the chance was gone.  Other than what would be a stretch to even call a half chance from McClean that was it as an attacking force from us with Keane and McGeady not having much impact once they came on and as the game reached it's end, it was Sweden who looked more likely to snatch a win with another Zlatan shot flashing across the goal the closest they came before the ref brought proceedings to a close.

In the immediate aftermath my he main emotion was one of disappointment that we'd let such a commanding grip on the game slip.  As we left the ground we hooked up with most of the lads we hadn't managed to meet yet as the Quinns, Brummies, Karl and Caimin, Terry, McCoy, McGarry and the rest of the London crew and ourselves all hung around Saint Denis for a couple of beers and to analyse what we'd seen. Pretty much everyone shared the disappointment but at least we've got points on the board which is more then we managed in Poland and after Italy put Belgium to the sword later that night then we may have a situation where if Italy beat Sweden on Saturday they will have already qualified and potentially topped the group which may work to our advantage when we come to play them if they decide to rest players or take their eye off the ball somewhat.  Having gone into yesterday's game thinking it was our best chance of 3 points and really hoping for the win, I'd be happy enough with a draw v Belgium on Saturday provided Italy can beat Sweden.  It's still all to play for in any case and how Belgium react to their defeat will be huge.  They looked a team less than the sum of it's parts yesterday and a lot will depend on how we approach the game. I had originally thought that O'Neill would start Hoolahan v Sweden and possibly rest him v Belgium and play a more containing game.  But it would be a brave (or foolhardy) man to leave him out following Wessi's performance yesterday.  Still, a point from Belgium will keep us in the hunt and O'Neill's innate conservatism may sway him.

We wound up staying on in Saint Denis till the end of the Italy Belgium game and had a good bit of craic with the Swedish fans in the area with a few impromptu kickabouts going on outside and plenty of colour (including a Swedish Elton John lookalike) helping to bring us out of the disappointment somewhat. After sharing a taxi with a few lads (one of whom coincidently turned out to be a pal of mine's brother that I'd never met before!) back into the centre, we hung around for an hour or two before heading back to the apartment. It was good natured mayhem around the square but to be honest, I'm never in the mood for major celebrations when we've had a result I'm not happy with. While I've no problem with lads who are over for the craic and the session regardless of the result, for me it's about the football first and foremost, so I was glad to get out and home for a nightcap before we called it a night. As I write this I'm moving onto La Rochelle with a big crowd from You Boys In Green on Steve Amsterdam's bus and my better half, Louise, will join me in a couple of days before we head down to Bordeaux for Saturday's game. Unlike Poland, people are a bit more scattered around the country this time with Frank and the lads staying another night in Paris before hitting Bordeaux tomorrow and Tash, the Brummies and the Quinns heading to Biarritz and Bergerac respectively before we all get together again in Bordeaux. A win or at least a draw that feels like a win will do nicely!

Pass the Dutchie

There were a lot more positives than negatives to be taken from what was a nice balmy early Summer evening at Lansdowne Road.  Although the match itself couldn't compare to the many classic big games we've had against the Dutch over the years (and nor can this current Dutch team compare to their previous sides for that matter), it was definitely a worthwhile exercise and there were signs that the momentum that has been building since the play off victory is still moving in the right direction.

The evening had started with a long stroll across the city, moving from the environs of a rapidly filling Croke Park through the city centre and IFSC and across to Lansdowne.  With the Bruce Springsteen gig on in Croker, town was absolutely mobbed with people making their way northside and traffic was at a standstill, so taxis weren't an option and we made the call to keep walking rather than jump on the DART at Connolly.  Once we got beyond the IFSC, the clothing of choice for those out walking on the street changed from Springsteen t-shirts to the familiar green shirts of various vintage and the pleasant weather was helping to add to a nice atmosphere.  After about 40 minutes walking we arrived at the Beggars and met up with those of the usual crew that were heading to the match.  With a few of the UK based lads missing due to the proximity of the trip to France, we had a smaller group than normal but there were still a good few of the YBIG crowd around including a few of the lads who'd been part of the fans team that had handed out a 6-0 trashing to the Dutch in the fans match that afternoon.  The talk was all about the arrangements for the next few weeks in France rather than the game itself and the chat only really turned to the match once the team was named an hour before kick off.  It was clear from the selection that Martin O'Neill was using this game as an opportunity to look at a few of the fringe players rather than give his first XI a run out, with the likes of Harry Arter and David McGoldrick who that had missed out on most of the campaign due to injury given chance to shine and Shane Duffy given an opportunity at centre half in Ciaran Clark's absence.  It was the right call in my opinion and I was looking forward in particular to seeing if Arter could reproduce some of the form he'd shown when he was fit in what had been a stop start season for him.

Having wet our whistles to an appropriate level, we left the Beggars and made our way down to the South Stand, although the utterly disproportionate search policy that the FAI are still insisting on enforcing at the turnstiles for the Singing Section meant that the game had kicked off a minute before we got to our usual spot.  And the excuse given by the stewards that the searches were to ensure no flares were brought into the ground simply doesn't wash.  The searches were only introduced after the protests and banners relating to John Delaney's behaviour occurred and it's clear that they're to prevent similar banners being unfurled again.  While we may have to get used to similar with the added security in France, the fact that it's only the Singing Section that is subject to this on entry to Lansdowne Road speaks volumes.

As for the game itself, we were set up in a diamond formation and I was surprised to see McGoldrick deployed in the hole, where Wes Hoolahan normally operates, rather than being given a opportunity to see what he could do up front. We struggled initially to get a hold of the ball as the Dutch dominated possession without ever threatening our goal.  To be fair, it was probably no harm to have a spell where we had to play without the ball as there'll undoubtedly be plenty of that during the Euros and the defence was acquitting itself very well and looked comfortable with Duffy and O'Shea looking solid.  Around 15 minutes in, we started getting on the ball a bit more and immediately looked more threatening with our possession than the Dutch had with theirs.  On around 20 minutes Arter tried his luck but a deflection took the ball through to Cillessen in the Dutch goal. Shane Long was looking dangerous and broke through a minute later only to be crudely chopped down by Bruma. The length of time Long stayed down for caused a bit of concern in the crowd so it was a relief to see it was only a gash on his knee that had re-opened.  I thought that Randolph seemed to be limping a bit as well at that stage of the game but that may well have just been my paranoia kicking in this close to the finals!

The pressure was starting to build by this point and we were rewarded just before the half hour mark.  McGoldrick played a nice diagonal ball over to Seamus Coleman who had bombed forward on the right.  Although his cross was blocked behind for a corner, Robbie Brady's consistently improving dead ball delivery means that set pieces have become a vital weapon in our armoury and so it proved as he delivered a great in swinging ball onto O'Shea's head.  The header looked goal bound but was kept out by a combination of the keeper and what could have been a handball from Janssen. O'Shea's shout for a penalty was cut short though as Long was first to react and stabbed home the rebound!  It was actually great to see Long get what was a poachers goal and the sort that you'd normally associate more with Robbie Keane. Adding that type of poaching to his game can only benefit us in the future and seeing how he finished the season and brought that form to the table on Friday is encouraging for France and he simply has to stay fit and start.

Take the Long way round!

The goal was the catalyst for our best spells of the game on either side of half time.  Arter began to get on the ball in a more controlled fashion and looked very tidy with it, bar on one occasion when he was thinking too far ahead and allowed a simple pass to roll out under his foot for a throw.  He hadn't entirely left his aggression behind mind you and was rightly booked on about 40 minutes for absolutely clattering Memphis Depay.  Some of his tackles were a bit similar to what James McClean can do when he's hyped up and both will need to manage that aspect of their games if they're going to make an impression in France.

I expected Long to be withdrawn and wrapped in cotton wool at half time so was surprised to see the same XI come out for the second half.  And the half itself started in the same manner that the first had finished with Ireland on the front foot.  Another couple of good Brady set piece deliveries saw Walters, Duffy and Long all miss with headers but again the quality of the set plays was encouraging and it looks likely that Brady will start at left back rather than further up the pitch in France. We stayed in the ascendancy up until the hour mark when, as expected in international friendlies, the usual plethora of substitutions began.  Just before the changes, McGoldrick played what looked like a loose ball for Long but Long's pace nearly turned it into a good one as he gave Bruma a fright before the Dutch defender hooked a leg across to put the ball out of play.  That was Long's last input as McClean, Hendrick and Gibson then came on for himself, Quinn and Whelan. I expected McGoldrick to move up front into Long's position but O'Neill has been making noises about McClean having the ability to play centre forward and obviously wanted to have a look at him there so McGoldrick remained playing deep until he was also replaced by Hoolahan with about 15 minutes to go.  The last substitution of the night followed shortly after with the impressive Arter replaced by his club mate Eunan O'Kane.

The intensity of the game had dropped significantly at this point with a couple of Mexican waves occupying the crowd more than the action on the pitch.  Another set piece on 80 minutes just before the final change really should have resulted in a second goal only for Duffy to glance his header wide.  And ultimately that was to cost us on 84 minutes as Willems put in an excellent cross which caused a bit of confusion between Randolph and Duffy resulting in a free header for De Jong which he duly converted.  A late rally to try and regain the lead followed  but there was only a scuffed shot to O'Kane to show for it and then one last corner for Holland which Randolph comfortably cleared before the ref blew up for full time.

Sun setting on the Dublin campaign



So, as I said at the start, it was generally an encouraging night for Ireland. The team said farewell to Dublin as the sun was setting at Lansdowne with one last friendly down in Cork to follow, a Belarus team soundly beaten 3-0 by Northern Ireland in Belfast the sane time we were playing Holland.  Harry Arter has surely played his way into the squad, barring injury, although I am hearing that he'll miss the Belarus game and go for a scan on his thigh tomorrow.  He has been managing an achilles injury for the last number of months and been treated with injections when it's most likely that surgery will be needed to clear up the problem.  Management of injuries in that way can often result in other niggles flaring up so hopefully the scan will bring good news although there has to be a doubt that he can manage a 3 or 4 week tournament, which may count against him when Martin O'Neill finalises his squad on Tuesday night. We didn't have a chance to look at McGoldrick up front but there was possibly enough in his performance in the hole to suggest that he may make the plane as a back up for Hoolahan. I don't think it's likely though.  Stephen Quinn may not have done enough for me and ditto for Darren Gibson in his limited gametime.  Ultimately some of these players may be dependent on injuries to others to make the final 23.  Bar his late slip up, Shane Duffy gave a commanding performance and should travel and John O'Shea may have played himself back into the team although I had been leaning towards a centre half partnership of Richard Keogh and Ciaran Clark as my preference.  Kieren Westwood and David Forde have joined up with the squad now following their losing involvement in the Championship and League One play offs respectively over the weekend.  If either gets a run tomorrow that should indicate who will be staying at home.  For me, Westwood should get the nod but O'Neill definitely seems to have issues with him going back to their Sunderland days so that one is by no means certain.  For interest, I've picked my own preferred squad below with any player in brackets showing where I think O'Neill may differ.  Only two weeks to go to our opener now and I think that once the squad is finalised the excitement will really start to build!

GOALKEEPERS
Darren Randolph
Shay Given
Kieren Westwood (David Forde)

DEFENDERS
Seamus Coleman
Cyrus Christie
Richard Keogh
Ciaran Clark
John O'Shea
Shane Duffy
Robbie Brady
Stephen Ward

MIDFIELDERS
Glenn Whelan
James McCarthy
Jeff Hendrick
Wes Hoolahan
Harry Arter (Stephen Quinn is probably the only man who can keep him out, barring injury, but I think O'Neill wants Arter there which will be tough on Quinn)
James McClean
David Meyler (I'd give serious consideration to David McGoldrick in midfield but think Meyler's involvement in the qualifiers means he probably deserves a spot)
Aiden McGeady

STRIKERS
Jon Walters
Shane Long
David McGoldrick (Daryl Murphy will be picked by O'Neill and the fact that McGoldrick didn't get game time up front on Friday shows that O'Neill isn't really considering him as an option.  The tournament is a bridge too far for Kevin Doyle who's been a great servant)
Robbie Keane (Word coming through as I write that's he's picked up an injury and will miss the Belarus game which may re-open the door for Kevin Doyle)

Ireland's Having A Party!!

Well, we've reached the end of the road and what a road it was.  It's been a campaign full of great moments rather than a great campaign but it would be churlish in the extreme to even infer that the players and management didn't get what they deserved.  McGeady’s last minute screamer in Georgia, O'Shea's stoppage time leveller in Germany, another last minute equaliser from Long at home against Poland and the same player's famous winner v Germany at Lansdowne are all moments that will go into the annals of Irish football history and they'll now be joined by Brady’s effort through the fog in Bosnia and Jon Walters’ brace to seal the deal at home. And while there have been lows in the campaign in the away defeats to Scotland and Poland and the second half concession at home to Scotland, it's to the credit of the team and the management that the never say die attitude that was shown in the games themselves was also reflected in the approach to the campaign as a whole with every blow absorbed before we picked ourselves up again and kept fighting.

Having got back from Bosnia on Saturday night, I vowed to try and get some rest but with Brummie Bren staying the night with us on Saturday before Nuge, his roommate for the following couple of nights arriving over from Birmingham on Sunday, we still ended up sharing stories of the trip with my better half till two in the morning. A hearty breakfast early Sunday afternoon was followed by a rewatch of the away leg (or at least as much of it as we could see) while I finished the away blog before we hit the town to meet a few more of the second generation lads in Nuge, Pete McGarry and Pete Fahey for a couple of straighteners and a bit of dinner.  For once, I realised that discretion was the better part of valour and with a big day ahead on Monday, bailed out around half 10 to get a good night's rest in.

So Monday rolled around and an early dinner was had which meant that I was done and dusted by around 4 leaving me free to make my way to to O'Donohues to meet the Brummies.  Before long, Frankie the hands made his way in and after a swift couple we made our way down to the usual spot outside The Beggars where the rest of our crew were congregating. Those of us who'd only got back from Bosnia over the course of the previous 48 hours were obviously feeling a bit rougher round the edges than those who hadn't made it but there was an uplifting atmosphere around the place given the result on Friday and the cautious mood of optimism amongst the support was infectious and enough to shake off the remains of the jadedness.

I was delighted that my old travelling pal from when we started going away in the 90’s and one of the original Drumcondra 69ers, Rich, was back in the fold for his first competitive game in a number of years and was bringing his eldest, my 9 year old Godson Rian to his first competitive Ireland match. I'd been able to sort them out for a code for pre sale tickets on the back of my season ticket and I knew that Rian was really looking forward to the game having been bitten by the live football bug via a trip to Anfield, the Ireland friendly v USA last year and his first season ticket at Bohs this year.  However, it wasn't long after their arrival that the mood turned to one of panic as Rich opened his wallet to get a drink only to find his tickets missing!  He was convinced that he had them when he'd left home so left Rian with me as he frantically retraced his steps back to the car to make sure he hadn't left them there. Ten minutes later he called me back to say he'd had no joy so after a few deep breaths we had to work out a plan  Although the tickets were hard copy tickets that had been sent out to him, the pre sale code I'd given him was for online purchase so I knew he must have had an email confirmation with the ticket numbers on them. So surely a call to ticketmaster could get the other tickets cancelled and reissued at the ticket office?  While Rich was doing that, I'd discovered that one of the lads in our season ticket group wasn't going to make it due to  illness so I had one spare ticket and just needed one more to sort the guys out if worse came to worst. But despite my best efforts, no one from any of the groups of fans I knew had anything else spare and given the demand for the game things were looking grim. Luckily, just as I'd given up, Rich reappeared and although he hadn't been able to get through to ticketmaster, he'd remembered that one of the security guards at the stadium has a son that plays for the same team as Rian and a quick call to him had got him in touch with the ticket office at the ground where they'd told him that they'd reissue his tickets if he got down there straight away.  So although our catch up hadn't gone exactly as planned, at least they'd be getting into the ground and we made plans to meet once the game had finished. I'd have been gutted if Rian had had to miss the game and to be honest would have taken him into the Singing Section with our spare ticket and left his Dad outside rather than the pair of them going home if needs be! Luckily it didn't come to that! Funnily enough, a couple of minutes after they'd taken their seats, a couple of Bosnian fans arrived having bought the original tickets from a tout but there were no longer issues with it and the stewards seated them elsewhere in the ground.  And we were able to sort out a regular away fan who hadn't got a home ticket with our spare so we took that as a good omen!

Panic over, I returned to the rest of the gang to play a very quick catch up with my last pint before we set off to head down to the South end and into the Singing Section. The atmosphere was buzzing on the way down in a way it only can when there's a full house and something big at stake.  Security did seem a bit tighter than usual, presumably in light of the atrocities in Paris the previous Friday, which had created a bit of a bottleneck once we got down to turnstiles Q and R where we enter the ground. In fact, the crush was as bad as I've seen in many years heading into a ground so it was just as well I hadn't got Rian with me although to be fair I'd have gone straight down with him rather than finishing the last drink so would have been in the ground already at that stage. Anyway, having had to battle our way through to the entrance, there were 5 minutes gone in the game by the time we made it to our usual spot behind the goal so we'd missed the anthems for the first time in years and also missed what seemed a contentious minutes silence for the victims of the Paris attacks. From what I saw on TV afterwards, it just seemed to be a tiny minority in the Bosnian end chanting with the boos back at them that followed actually making up most of the noise. Regardless, it certainly wasn't reflective of the Bosnian fans I'd met and had the craic with over the previous few days.

Having missed the first few minutes, it was good to see that the atmosphere was as crackling inside the ground as it had been on the walk up and the team seemed to be responding with the first action of note coming around the ten minute mark when a fine move instigated by James McCarthy set Robbie Brady free on the overlap down the left resulting in the concession of a corner as his cross was cut out just before reaching a lurking Jon Walters.  Unfortunately, in a sign of things to come, the corner was clearly a set piece but was very poorly executed and following a rebound off the ref, we were lucky that Visca ran the ball out of play when it looked like a break may have been on.  The next few minutes were fairly nip and tuck with corners exchanged at each end and the Irish delivery once again leaving something to be desired.  But Ireland seemed to be dictating the tempo and although Brady's set piece delivery was lacking, his defensive work and over lap play was top class and a lot of our best play was coming from that side.  And it was from a Brady delivery that the passage of play resulting in the first telling blow of the night came from.

Walters had flicked a long ball onto Jeff Hendrick around 20 minutes in when Spahic earned himself a booking with a mistimed sliding challenge.  Brady took the resultant free and again failed to cause any danger but the ball was recycled back to him only for Spahic to once again foul recklessly.  This time Hendrick stepped up to take the free and again, incredibly an Ireland set piece failed to beat the first man.  However, this time Bosnia only cleared into touch and the throw in was worked to Daryl Murphy whose attempted cross from the right flicked off the hand of the unfortunate Zukanovic to deflect the ball through to Begovic.  To be honest, there wasn't much of a handball shout from the crowd or a big appeal from the players but next thing the ref has blown his whistle and pointed to the spot for a penalty!  The decision looked very harsh but given some of the travesties I've witnessed following the team over the years, there seemed to be a small sense of karma in Ireland being on the right side of a contentious penalty decision.  The majority of the fans around us had erupted when the penalty was given but I've never been one for celebrating a penalty decision as I'm always too worried we're going to miss it!  And the delay between the decision and the penalty itself  caused by the Bosnian protests and their attempts to put Walters off (led by Spahic who seemed to be on a mission to collect that second booking) didn't help my nerves.  But if there was one man on the pitch who I'd have wanted to be standing over the ball it was big Jon Walters!  I'd said to the lads that I didn't know if it was an advantage or disadvantage that Walters and Begovic were team mates at Stoke for so long given that both would undoubtedly have faced off against each other from 12 yards in training before Begovic's move to Chelsea during the summer but Walters didn't let any game of double bluff enter his head and calmly sent Begovic the wrong way and buried the ball in the left hand corner!  Now was the time to celebrate and although I've never felt that the celebration from a penalty goes as full on as a goal from play due to the expectation that we should score and the relief when we do, it was still fairly intense in behind the goal as we put a bit of breathing space between us and the Bosnians.  But, this was still no job done scenario, there was still a long way to go!

There's always one with the top off!

The next stanza of the game saw Ireland retreat a little bit as the temptation to hold what we had seemed to take hold and Bosnia started to foray further up the pitch.  Dzeko had one effort into the side netting that Darren Randolph seemed to have covered but despite their play happening further up the pitch, their heads seemed to have gone somewhat following the penalty and Spahic once again could have considered himself lucky to remain on the pitch following a blatant body check on Wes Hoolahan on 27 minutes.  However, Bosnia were definitely on top in this little spell but they weren't creating anything clear cut bar a half chance from Medunjanin which went well over and they still looked nervous when we pressured them with Begovic getting lucky when his attempt to clear a back pass ricocheted back off  the onrushing Hoolahan and towards the goal although the chance to apply further pressure in that instance was halted by the ref deeming the ricochet to be a handball.  To be honest, bar yet another Spahic foul on Walters, the rest of the half petered out as Ireland drew the sting from that small spell of pressure and half time was reached relatively comfortably

So with 45 minutes to go to seal our spot in Euro 2016, I was feeling nervous as ever but the generally hidden rational side of my brain was telling me that we'd had a comfortable first half on top of a good 90 minutes in the away leg and Bosnia's discipline had been somewhat lacking.  My concern was rooted in the fact that we had rarely put together a consistent 90 minute performance in the campaign and the game was still balanced on a knife edge. My nerves weren't helped by the first ten minutes of the half as Bosnia came on strong with McCarthy defending well to get a Medunjanin cross out for a corner (although it was a little too close to the crossbar for my liking!).  Our problem again was our delivery with another poor cross from Brady leaving Walters with no chance on one of our forays forward being mirrored by an overhit Randolph goal kick going straight through to Begovic at a time when we just needed to hold possession for a bit.  Martin O'Neill obviously realised that something needed to be changed but it was still a bit of a surprise to see him make a double substitution on 55 minutes with Hoolahan and Murphy withdrawn for James McClean and Shane Long.

We regained a little foothold in the game following the subs and had another set play on 57 minutes which was again wasted by Brady as he hit it straight into the first defender.  I had expected Brady to move up into the Hoolahan role with McClean slotting into the left back role following the changes but instead, Brady had remained in that slot with McClean moving into left midfield as we adopted a more orthodox formation with Long and Walters pushing on.  Given that McClean got himself booked within 2 minutes of coming on for a totally rash challenge then maybe it was just as well he wasn't taking on a more defensive role. I have a lot of time for McClean but he has to learn to channel his enthusiasm and aggression.  It's been useful during the campaign with his tackle after coming on in the home leg v Poland setting the tone for the late comeback but his desire to be involved in everything here was causing problems with the concession of a number of frees in dangerous positions doing nothing to allay the nerves.  However, the emergence of Ciaran Clark and Richard Keogh as a centre half pairing of some solidity has been one of the plus points of the play offs and they were mopping up everything thrown at them to the extent that Randolph was rarely stretched.

So halfway through the half and we were looking comfortable and the Bosnian's, and in particluar Spahic's, indiscipline was about to finally get punished.  Ireland had a throw on the left which was flicked on to Walters who was unceremoniously taken out by a boot to the stomach from the aforementioned Spahic.  How it wasn't a second yellow, if not a straight red is beyond me but a free kick was the only outcome.  I've mentioned earlier how poor Brady's delivery had been during the game but when the chips were down this time, he really delivered!  The free had just the right amount of whip and pace on it as it was floated into 'the corridor of uncertainty' (to use the cliche!).  It was too far out for Begovic to claim and was a horrible ball for any of the defenders to try and clear.  Vranjes, to be fair, had the balls to try and clear it but succeeded only in flicking the ball onto that man Walters who picked his spot and smacked a volley with the side of his boot past Begovic on his near post and into the back of the net!  Cue lift off in Lansdowne and the roar that went up dwarfed that from the penalty earlier as the 50,000 plus Irish fans in the ground began to believe!  Although we were down the opposite end of the ground to the goal the celebrations in the Singing Section were immense as they spilled across numerous rows of seats and friends and familiar faces from the campaign bounced around in a mass embrace!

It's that man again!

The celebration then morphed into a Poznan and by the time things had calmed down to the extent that we could watch the game again that pessimistic side of my brain was telling me that even with a two goal cushion, two goals from Bosnia would put them through on away goals.  But, truth be told, we were looking comfortable and, 5 minutes later, really should have put the game away.  Long was released by a ball over the top from Coleman that he really had no right to win.  But, having done the hard work and muscling past the hapless Spahic, he never really managed to get the ball out from under his feet and bobbled his shot miles past the post when he probably could have rounded Begovic and finished.  In fairness to him, it was his first action at any level since getting injured against Poland and had he been fully match fit would probably have been able to get fully away from Spahic after winning the ball and got a shot off under less pressure than he did. Still, it would have done my heart no end of good for the last 15 minutes had we had that extra cushion!

 Countdown......

The next 15 minutes didn't seem quite as long as the last 15 had been against Germany but they still felt pretty long nonetheless.  But by now, we were coping with anything that Bosnia could throw at us and Randolph was confidently either catching or punching anything that came his direction away.  A goalmouth scramble with about 3 minutes left caused a few heart palpitations before Randolph gratefully dived on the ball and the atmosphere in the Singing Section built towards a crescendo with every minute that passed.  John O'Shea came on for Glenn Whelan as the clock ticked into stoppage time to kill a bit of time and while the atmosphere was punctured for a second as Ibasevic crashed a volley off the crossbar in the 92nd minute, it was at that moment that everyone seemed to accept that it was to be our night and the noise began to build again along with whistles from every section of the ground.  And, as soon as the clock ticked into the 94th minute and right on time, the ref joined in with the rest of the amateur whistlers in the crowd and blew up to confirm our third, and first back to back qualification for the European Championships!

Ireland's Having a Party!!

The roar from the Singing Section and the ground as a whole when that whistle went must have been heard all over Dublin and it was great to get that sort of atmosphere and bond between the fans and the players for the second home game in a row after the Germany win last month.  The fact that this  was the first time that we'd secured qualification with a win at home only added to the occasion and it was great to be able to share that moment with the likes of Frankie, Philly, Greg, Stevie, Mark, the 2 Brens and Noel who'd soldiered through the good times and bad during the last couple of campaigns in our spot in 114. The section was a sea of flags and banners as we stayed behind for a while to savour the reception given to the players.  The good vibes seemed to be infectious and there was even a smile from Roy Keane as Martin O'Neill nearly got him in a headlock trying to drag him onto the pitch.  It does look like Keane is happier in his skin these days and that he's using the time he's spent working with O'Neill in a positive manner as I'd hoped he would.  The reception he got from the crowd as he briefly joined the celebrations felt like another step in the rehab of his relationship with a section of the Irish support post Saipan and Euro 2012.

Just the ticket!

Having applauded the players on their lap of honour, it was time for us to celebrate properly so we made our way from Lansdowne and caught up with various friends (including Rich and Rian who was absolutely buzzing with the result) and also with my Da, who'd first brought me to an Ireland game all of 36 years ago, on a crawl that took us back to the Beggars, onto The Gasworks and finally to The Palace on Fleet St where myself, Brummie Bren and Nuge were the last men standing.  As it was my ever understanding better half's birthday the next day and we were heading away for a break, I managed to get myself home around 2 to fall into a contented slumber and dream of France!  And although I did nearly manage to get away from everything football related for the next couple of days, there was still the small matter of a radio interview with Baldrick and Freewheeler from YBIG to go out on Near FM the following evening which needed to be phoned in from the hotel bedroom in Lough Rynn Castle and can be listened to below!

Euro Qualification Podcast

So, as I said back at the beginning, it's been a real rollercoaster of a campaign, with early high moments in Tbilisi and Gelsenkirchen tempered by poor performances in the middle of the campaign, particularly against Scotland and then things swinging back again with that famous victory against Germany before the deflation of the away game in Poland where I feared our best chance may have gone.  But when the chips were down in the play off, we produced our 2 most consistent performances of the campaign to take us over the line.  And while it should be pointed out that O'Neill had a large slice of luck in that a 3rd place finish that would have been deemed a failure in any other campaign in our history was enough to get us into a play off this time round, it should also be pointed out that the he had no luck with the draw which put us in the hardest group by a distance.  When things looked bad as recently as September, he still had the belief that we had a chance and as it turned out, once again a victory that was criticised in some quarters away to Georgia at the start of the campaign proved vital once Scotland failed to match it.  Overall, we have to be satisfied with where we are and I really believe that it took a bit of time for O'Neill to settle into International management but he seems to be in a very good place with it now.  We still have to see where we go once we get to the finals but the extra teams this time around should hopefully mean an easier group than the Spain, Italy, Croatia combination that we got last time out.  Add to that the extra qualifying places for the best four 3rd place teams and there's probably more reasons to be optimistic waiting for the draw on December 12th than there was 4 years ago!