I threw myself to the floor and smacked the ground in anger. Damien Duff had just missed a golden chance to give Ireland the lead on aggregate against France in the World Cup playoff.
As I dusted myself off and got back to my feet I noticed to my right that my Dad was also lying on the floor beside me. He too had hit the deck as if an airstrike was incoming and he was looking for shelter. I asked him what happened and he replied “Duff Missed”.
This is not the first time Sports had overwhelmed my Dad. When Ireland won the grand slam, I ran around the house trying to find him to celebrate only to discover he had taken to the back garden for the last 5 minutes of the game as it was too much to bear.
We both returned to our seats with my dad now supporting a noticeable limp as if the torture that was playing out in the Stade de France wasn’t enough for him to deal with.
We all know what happened next, Henry’s handball and the Irish players and management running around arguing their case with the futility of a drunk talking to a bouncer who has just kicked him out of the club. My Dad and I sat in silence for what seemed like hours and if life didn’t get in the way, we very well may still be sitting on the sofa in our daze.
Today’s game has been built up by some as our chance of revenge. Call it karma, call it the sporting gods owe us one, call it Bill down the road has a gut feeling, everyone is looking for a sign that will assure us that we can cause an upset today.
Today’s players aren’t playing to avenge that one night in Paris, where much like the star of the “movie” with the same name we got screwed. They are playing for a chance of creating their own history.
That being said however, they say good things come to those who wait. Well we have been a long time to get some closure against France. Come On You Boys in Green.
