Georgia's 'away day' offers little respite for fans
With their team in Germany, Johnny Ward joined the crowds in Tbilisi
Ireland manager Giovanni Trapattoni in pensive mood before the start of Ireland's opening World Cup qualifying match at the Bruchweg Stadium in Mainz yesterday
Sunday September 07 2008
LESS than a week after I booked plane tickets to watch Ireland in Georgia, Mikheil Saakashvili for one reason or another sent the troops into South Ossetia.
At the time, I thought it would prove a short-lived 'war' and matters would have normalised by the time Ireland played there. What was a boost for our lads in the fixture change was a blow to my ambitions to watch a game before 50,000 fans in a genuinely hostile atmosphere.
After it was decided to switch the game to Mainz, I opted to go to Georgia anyway. But not many people are doing that these days, judging by my flight from Riga: perhaps 15 others were on the plane with me. At the passport check in Tbilisi airport there are about 10 employees looking around with nothing to do.
It was not long before Georgian hospitality stepped in. Gingerly asking about hotel recommendations at four in the morning, I had not reckoned with one of the airport worker's decision to not only pick a hotel for me but drive me there as well and arrange to meet me the following day.
Max is 26, a fan of Roy Keane and not a fan of the Russian government. He remembers the old times, when Russian was the first language and there were an impressive number of Georgians on the Soviet football team.
At the hotel itself, there are just eight rooms. One of them happens to be taken by a Portuguese photojournalist who lives in Dublin, and his favourite bar -- like mine -- is Mulligan's of Poolbeg Street. He is travelling to take photos in Gori, and I go along for the ride on a cramped minibus towards the birthplace of Stalin.
It is a small town, but one can only imagine what it was like when roughly 95 per cent of its 50,000 occupants fled as the Russians rained in with their cluster bombs. They denied using them, but the potholes that pepper Gori's pavements tell a different story.
At a hospital in the town, the paint is flaking off the walls and victims of a war that effectively had nothing to do with them show us their wounds. Later, I visit the campsite beside Gori's football stadium, where 1,500 people sleep in tents. Yet they maintain a positive outlook, thinking nothing of inviting you to impromptu sessions of vodka drinking at 10 in the morning.
One wonders what Stalin would have made of it all. The residents generally like him in his home town -- probably because he is dead. His statue is impressive and imposing outside town hall, and the Soviet train at the museum dedicated to the despot has weathered well.
Back in Tbilisi, Zaza -- a Gori native -- tells me stories about Stalin, in addition to how his sister was kidnapped by a Georgian man she ended up marrying. "It is crazy not playing this game in Tbilisi," he says. "Even during the conflict my friends here said it was totally normal."
Nothing ever happened in Tbilisi during the Russian invasion. One wonders if Georgian football matters to the powers that be, would they ever have made the decision they did.
It matters to the Georgians though, if the silence which greeted Kevin Doyle's header is anything to go by -- even the commentator on local TV went silent.
I passed up the pub option in favour of watching the game in a public area in Old Tbilisi -- a beautiful quarter of the city. The area was decked out with tables and being the only Irishman among the 100 or so present, six local guys let me share their table.
Before Doyle pounced, their greatest fascination with Ireland was Trapattoni: they couldn't believe how old he looked.
But looks can be deceiving, and as fans made their way home glum-faced, I'm sure their thoughts turned to another 'away' day in Udine on Wednesday. For me, it was time to reconsider the pub option.
- Johnny Ward
