Maybe they should have waited another 20 years. As an exercise in smooth and incident-free organisation of an international fixture soaked in historical volatility, yesterday’s lunchtime resumption of Ireland versus England at Lansdowne was a triumph.
The bitterest of rivalries succeeded in delivering one of the most eventless games in the history of football. The only danger that veteran fans of that infamous night in ’95 faced from yesterday’s version was of being bored to death.
Less than 24 hours after Barcelona and Juventus held Europe spellbound on cup final night in Berlin, the best home-spawned talent on either side of the Irish Sea conspired to play the same sport but what they offered up was, in truth, an entirely different game.
Both teams clattered into one another with customary honesty but lacked the wit and imagination to create even one genuinely memorable moment. The grimness led ITV to tweet an apology to its viewers for actually broadcasting the game.
Bloodhound eyes
"Did they?" asked England manager Roy Hodgson, raising his big bloodhound eyes. He had no comment but he didn't seem entirely surprised. Martin O'Neill gamely asserted that the match was "exactly what we needed" as he faces into next Saturday evening's crucial visit of Scotland, when nobody will care about the quality, provided the night ends with a victory.
O’Neill learned little from this: he already knows that Seamus Coleman is among the nimblest full backs in English football, that Glenn Whelan can mix it comfortably with the jazzier midfield names and that Robbie Keane may have to line out for Ireland until he is 50 if the plan is to score more goals.
“We don’t as a rule score many goals, we haven’t done for years,” acknowledged O’Neill. “That is why Robbie is so special for us.”
The Los Angelean will arrive in Dublin this afternoon.
John Delaney could have used a few goals – or even a reprise of the rioting – to switch the fascination from the boardroom and bank accounts, but no such luck for him.
Irish fans offered a few half-hearted chants of disapproval towards their CEO and the visiting English fans sang an insult so polite it might have been dreamed up by Prince William: “Sepp Blatter...he paid for your ground! Sepp Blatter....he paid for your ground!”
A generation of greying English football hooligans must have bowed their suede-heads in shame. That was about as edgy as Ireland versus England got. In fact, the pantomime villain for the day among the crowd of 43,486 was Liverpool’s Raheem Sterling, who provoked sustained booing from all sectors for the ground whenever he touched the ball – and he got little change out of Robbie Brady, operating at fullback.
Miserable conclusion
The day provided a miserable conclusion to an unhappy season for Sterling, who was called ashore after 66 minutes which did nothing to convince Liverpool fans that his leaving will further diminish their fortunes.
“I think he is going through a bad time,” said Hodgson.
“You can’t expect people to shrug off criticism, not least by the local press in Liverpool. I think he does ever so well because he tries to shrug it off and let his football do the talking but he needed this game because he probably realised that he needs to work even harder and develop an even thicker skin. I trust Sterling. But players are not robots. He has done some fantastic things for us.”
Nobody did anything fantastic yesterday. A genuine thrill of appreciation at least shot through the stadium when Jack Charlton, 80 years old now, was presented to the public minutes before kick-off, still wearing that peaked cap and that slightly perplexed Geordie grin as he looked around the sparkling new stadium which replaced the beloved wreck that he knew as Lansdowne Road. The sight of him lifted the roof.
“I’m not surprised,” said O’Neill of the fond ovation.
Charlton’s memory
“Particularly here, an honorary Irishman.” The Irish manager met his predecessor in the Jack Charlton lounge after the game. Charlton’s memory for names was never the best and it has not improved in the years since he finished up coaching.
“Yes, yes, he called me Harry a couple of times. But I said: that’s no problem. I’ll take that from Jack any day.”
For Irish fans old enough to remember, Charlton’s presence was like a ghostly visitation from the years in which Ireland and England matches were gripping feuds.
Charlton’s presence inevitably cast the mind back to the cold night of the riot but here, only the colours were the same. The lunchtime kick-off gave the whole occasion the feel of a Sunday church homily.
Roy Hodgson said last week that he hoped things had moved on in the 20 years since the two countries played here. He got his wish and then some.
“I thought the atmosphere was very subdued really,” he remarked.
“I am pleased by that of course.”
Still, merely subduing a Dublin crowd in a sunny friendly hardly constitutes a glittering outing for a team of England’s profile and ambition.
Somewhere, Jack Grealish may have been watching this grim struggle between the two countries who are engaged in a tug of love for his declaration of loyalty. Suddenly he may not feel so spoilt for choice.
