Billy Keane: The scales of justice demand Paris leveller
Monday November 16 2009
We were beaten by a freak goal that owed more to pinball than Association Football.
Paris in November, the month of the dead, and there are many who think Ireland are not only mort, but embalmed. There are many more who will see the return leg as a kind of month's mind.
I'm not so sure.
The Wild Geese will land in their thousands.
We Irish are expert cuckoos. Somehow we always manage to take over the other bird's nest.
The French will attempt to disarm us at border control, but what are they going to do with 5,000 green and gold plastic hammers?
And we will make much more noise than we do at home. It's a bit like the quiet man from down our way who used to let go with what was known as 'the 30 mile an hour roar' when he passed by the speed limit on his way out of town. Travel liberates us and we really cut loose when we go away. When we go to the sun we like to come home pink. In sport we like to come home hoarse.
We had our chances on Saturday night. Duff was back to his best and he is bound to produce at least one piece of trickery in the second leg. There's no doubt about that. Yes there is hope, but we cannot rely on exploiting what was perceived to be France's greatest weakness.
The French manager was arguing with his captain as late as a few hours before the match.
Even the ever vigilant Dunphy and Giles were conned. Dunphy said Domenech proposed to his fiancée on live TV and she refused. "He's not even respected in his own home," said Eamon.
Where have we heard it all before? Players warring with the manager, bust ups on the training ground, dropped players sulking, stars going off the rails. The rest of the country fell for it when Kerry won this year. Every county, every country and every team have their falling outs. It's not so much about the fighting, but the making up. Sometimes a good row can strengthen the bonds between players and the manager.
No one here really knows Domenech. We rely on scraps of second-hand information or the occasional eye-witness snapshot. And that's all it is, a glimpse of a single incident. You may see a couple having a lovers' tiff and conclude they are unhappy, but maybe later that night in they make passionate love.
Well he must have something going for him. France were outplayed in the first half, but apart from the last few minutes they controlled the second half.
Ireland really came at France during the main course and the barest fingertip that wouldn't even leave a print on the ball kept Andrews' scoopshot out. That's how close it was and if we went that near once, we can do so again. Ireland will play with heart. We have a team we can be proud of. They will not lie down.
Gignac even missed the corner flag in the 80th minute when it would have been easier to score. There's a reason for everything. It could be the miscue is part of the unfolding tale of a journey to the southern tip of Africa. Like Peig Sayers, we have one foot in the grave and one foot on the side -- but we are still alive. We will be kicking in Paris on Wednesday night. The French will be cocky now.
France are a silk stocking and we are a woolly sock. We all know that, but with luck we can take it to penalties.
Yet, you'll always have knockers. The pessimistic man sitting up at the hotel bar muttered: "The only time the Irish score away from home is in Santa Ponsa." He supped from his full pint, turned his back on the goal and then he said if we do qualify, "the banks and the credit unions will no longer believe the lies on the loan applications. We will have no support." Objectivity may be a virtue, but there are times when dreams serve the common cause much better.
Yes goals are scarce, France are odds on. We are playing away from home, but their Stade is only a field with boundaries that define it and green grass growing inside the ditches.
France got all the luck in Dublin. If life is a weighing scales, we will surely get an equaliser.
- Billy Keane
Irish Independent
