Irish fans were vocal despite losing to Croatia
Fionn O’Dea
Staff Writer
My memories of Euro 88 are scant at best, not least because I was not to be born for another five years. However, I can see myself regaling my grandchildren with stories about Euro 2012. How every day so far has been like St Patrick’s Day multiplied by football. How I’ve never seen so many sunburned Paddies. And how a Paul Green volley from forty yards in the dying minutes of the Spain match sent the world champions packing.
For all the positivity however, disaster almost struck us before the Croatia game. Three match tickets were grabbed from my uncle’s hand directly outside the stadium. Luckily, the swarms of green noticed our desperate pursuit. Out of all the Paddies in Poznan, it was Paddy Jackson who made himself a hero to our party. The stranger cornerned the thief, giving my cousin time to take the tickets back (she also threw in a punch to the face for good measure!).
The incident was indicative of the cameradery that has surrounded us since leaving Dublin port. To quote Christy Moore, “in Germany the autobahn was like the long mile road.” We hardly went ten minutes without seeing a campervan decked out to the max. Even on the day of the Germany game, there was a heavy green presence in Berlin.
After our pitstop in the German capital, we embarked on the final leg of our 2,000 km journey. The game itself was a bizarre, proud and
ultimately heart-breaking experience. A night of cheers, tears and piss cheap beers. It is difficult to escape the disappointment of the
result but being here has made it far easier. My predominant memory of the occasion will be the chorus of The Fields of Athenry at full time that would have convinced a neutral that it was the boys in green who came out on top. As I was reminded this morning, to progress, we simply need to overcome the last two world champions. Piece of piss.
Christy is unlikely to immortalise Seán St Ledger in song as he did with Ray Houghton but our equalising goal will stick with me as a very special moment. Not since my days frequenting a certain teenage disco in Donnybrook have I kissed so many strangers. Whatever about the heartache, for 23 minutes in Poznan, we were in heaven. COYBIG.
