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Comment after we nearly held the Czech Republic to a draw.
When the teams lined up for the national anthem, my mate gasped at the size of Jan Koller, the Czech centre forward. He was about six foot six in height and as for his feet, they were gigantic! "Wad ye luk at thon feet!" yelled someone behind me, "He looks like Krusty the Clown." Those words were the first indication that what was about to happen was a circus, with the Northern Ireland team ending up with custard pie all over their faces.
Ringmaster
The ringmaster of the show was undoubtedly the Czech's energetic number four shirt, Pavel Nedved. He was by far the best player on the park and proved it after only twelve minutes with the only goal of the match. Of course Krusty, I mean Koller, was also involved in that attack. It was a day when clowning paid off.
Trick Cyclists
Since last month's disaster against Norway our team had definitely grown in stature due to the return of Michael Hughes and Keith Gillespie. Keith skinned the left back repeatedly. What a pity that out superiority on the right flank did not lead to a goal. Michael has such confidence on the ball that we must fancy ourselves against anyone.
Conjuring trick
But the most amazing piece of magic in the whole afternoon was the mystery of how the ball stayed out of the Czech net in the second half. Gillespie's diving header deserved a goal rather than to hit the post and Phil Gray achieved wonders slamming a shot against the bar and then seeing a defender sticking out a leg to save his attempt at the rebound.
Tightrope-walker
So manager Sammy McIlroy is still the man on the high wire teetering and tottering. I am told that he has got things right in the dressing room. The lads play with spirit. (Last month's nightmare against Norway was an understandable lapse given the aggro off the field.) But spirit is not enough against the big boys of Europe. And, talking of big boys, why do we still lob high balls towards the vertically challenged David Healy? His marker is always a good twelve inches taller than our lively goal machine! That is the sort of error which causes high wire walkers to fall in the World Cup where there is no safety net.
LIFE IS A CIRCUS
Comment after our inept performance against the Bulgarians
We had the usual national anthem in Sofia, but the band ought to have played "Send in the Clowns".
Red Nose Day
Colin Murdock and the rest of our defence should have been wearing red noses from the start. Certainly at the end they had red faces. That wonderful volley by Petrov that almost burst the net was made to look good because no one bothered to mark him! To add to the farce, once the Bulgarians were celebrating an easy 4-1 win, they allowed their concentration to lapse and we scored twice. But it was a poor consolation.
Co-co the Clown
Of course the biggest clown of all is manager Sammy McIlroy, who blamed the referee, the Bulgarian team's diving and falling and the lousy training facilities. What do you expect, Sammy? After playing eighty-nine international games yourself, you should have known that you would have to cope with gamesmanship. If you can't stand the sawdust, get out of the circus! Sammy should blame himself for not drilling our defence better and for not impressing the lads with the need for consistency. It was so predictable that after the spirited performance the previous Saturday, the boys in green would have a nightmare. We are consistent in being inconsistent.
Trapeze Artistes
Now that we have fallen off the flying trapeze and another World Cup dream has been dashed, the time has come to put the emphasis on youth. (With all due respect to the fine performances of Glenn Ferguson, a thirty-one year old part-timer should not be included in a World Cup squad.) Surely Sammy, with his many talents, can put together a squad full of self-belief and disciplined into the good habits that mean that defeat, if it comes, will be due to the brilliance of the opposition, rather than our own incompetence. We fans do not mind losing to teams rated higher than us. But we do demand a battling and efficient performance.
With fond memories of the days when we were the lion-tamers of Europe.
IF YOU CAN'T STAND THE HEAT…
I came home late one night to find my wife watching yet another cookery programme on TV. It featured that Ulster-born chef, Paul Rankin. I sat down to watch the show and take an interest in the hobbies of my better half. To my amazement there was something familiar about one of the assistant chefs in the programme. "That guy looks very like Neil Lennon," I said.
"Paul Rankin has addressed him as Neil," she replied. (My wife knows nothing about important matters and would never recognise a Norn Iron player if she met him in her soup.)
Yes it was out very own Neil Lennon, highly articulate and showing an expert's knowledge in exotic cuisine. But the shocks were not over. There was another chef's assistant in the programme. He was a man-mountain who claimed expertise in Mexican dishes. I kid you not. It was none other than Gerry Taggart, our solid and none too quick central defender.
Ready, Steady, Cook!
Well, this weird television show started me thinking. What if the rest of our players were dragged kicking and screaming into the studios to film a cookery special? What kind of dishes would they enjoy cooking and eating. We have always had solid, no-nonsense, straight forward players, lads who are ordinary but reliable. For them Paul Rankin would produce BREAD AND BUTTER PUDDING.
Now what about Keith Gillespie, our speedy winger who is full of surprises, sometimes one thing (lousy) and sometimes another (brilliant)? The dish that is most suitable for Keith is SOUFFLÉ SURPRISE, also called BAKED ALASKA. It is hot and crispy meringue on the outside and ice cold vanilla inside. With Keith you expect the unexpected.
What dish would delight our wonderboy goalscorer, David Healy? I choose KEBABS. There is something so direct about the lad in front of goal. He goes straight for the big strike like a skewer through beef.
Now for a touch of the exotic. Young Jeff Whitley, born in Zambia should have something spicy. His subtle midfield talents mark him out as a possible playmaker when Jim Magilton bows out. So I would set before Jeff a plate of CAJUN CHICKEN. Like Jeff it would be hot stuff.
As for our goalkeeper, Roy Carroll, I do not want to specify one particular dish. But whatever he is fed on, let's hope it is SOMETHING STICKY. To many things are getting through his fingers these days.
Michael Hughes, our most skilful player, comes from a rare vintage. He should have something French in honour of his spell in Strasbourg. So I nominate him wine waiter for the feast and order him to pour a large glass of that excellent red know as BEAUJOLAIS NOUVEAU.
Celebrity Chef
Now what about the head chef in our football kitchen? What food would be fit nourishment for Sammy McIlroy? At the present moment what sums Sammy up is IRISH STEW. It has a little bit of everything and nothing very classy. Bt I would like this to be replaced by SIRLOIN, the very best in quality. However Sammy would probably benefit from something fishy, perhaps WILD SALMON STEAK. They say that fish improves one's brainpower. That would be beneficial because we fans are not convinced that Sammy's team selections and tactics have been clever enough in the past year and a half.
Now what should be set before the fans at this special meal? I have no doubt that we deserve a FEAST. It's about time our caterers produce a BANQUET worthy of CELEBRATION. page 1 | 2 |
