Whenever there's a football tournament involving a certain team other than our own, the issue almost inevitably arises of when-oh-when we as a people are going to shed an 800-year-old grudge and the last vestiges of a post-colonial mentality, and begin to reflect the maturity and self-confidence of the new economic and political dispensation by, just for once, cheering for England.
It's a good question (it should be, it took me half an hour to write); and RTE was posing it again last Monday night. But it has been another bad week for the pro-maturity lobby. On the evidence of Monday, a mature Irish football supporter is someone prepared to hope England win their first game of a tournament, so their hopes will be raised unrealistically and they'll be even more crushed by defeat in the second. And it wasn't a good week for them, either.
This is a big generalisation, of course. There are also some people, I know, who like to see England get as far as the knock-out stages, where they have the opportunity to lose cruelly on penalties.
And yes, to be serious, I'm sure there are also many of you who, like me, try to be fair where the English are concerned. If so, you'll have been as delighted as I was by their fine opening goal against Portugal, and you'll have thought "fair play to them!" when they went 2-0 up after only 18 minutes. And all I can say is, I don't know about you, but I was faking it.
Personally I don't think history has much to do with any of this. It's part of the natural order of things for small peoples to delight in the misfortune of larger, more powerful neighbours; you get the same thing between the US and Canada, Australia and New Zealand, Meath and Westmeath, (Meath and everyone else, in fact) and so on. It's a simple joy, and God knows there are few enough left.
I used to think differently, though. I was in Stuttgart in 1988, and excuse me, I don't think I said that loudly enough. I WAS IN STUTTGART IN 1988 and I watched the Ireland-England game from behind the goal into which Ray Houghton famously scored. As you probably remember, it happened after only six minutes; so those present had an excruciating wait until, a year and about four months later, the final whistle blew.
It's hard to imagine now, but back then, the Fields of Athenry hadn't been discovered yet (I think they were still under water). So we had to pass the time instead with the naive football chants of the era, including "Come on you boys in green" and "Ar-gen-tina! Ar-gen-ti-na!". Innocent times.
Anyway, a few days later, about 60 Irish fans gathered in a hotel in Hannover to watch England v Holland on television. Holland had also lost their first game so, clearly, the best result for Ireland was a draw, which would leave both teams chasing second place in the group at best. The BBC commentator Barry Davies, in town to cover the Irish game against the Soviet Union later that night, was also in the room.
So I remember thinking: here was a glorious opportunity for us to cheer for England - out of enlightened self-interest, admittedly - and show what a mature, self-confident people we were. I even allowed myself to hope that, if England drew with Holland, we might get the opportunity to go a step further as a people and start patronising the English, wishing them luck in the final game. Sincerely, even.
Such optimism was sadly misplaced. Holland won 3-1 and apart from me and Barry Davies, everyone celebrated as raucously as if the result had guaranteed us a place in the knock-out stages; whereas of course the Dutch were shortly to do for us as well.
But I think the thing that most fuels antiEnglish sentiment, and this probably goes for the other examples I cited earlier (with the possible exception of Meath) is that we get their television coverage, whereas they don't get ours; so we're exposed to all their vanity and self-delusion, while our own remains a private matter.
One of the favourite delusions of England's football analysts is that there is such a thing as the "Latin temperament," a factor which supposedly afflicts the teams of any country that can grow oranges. Had England held on to their 2-0 lead until half-time on Monday, we might have heard about Portugal's Latin temperament. As it was, the Portuguese displayed all the Latin temperament of a Swiss bank, as they wrote off the early debit, deposited the three goals necessary to win and then slammed the safe door shut.
Indeed, if any team has Latin temperament, it's Italy. And yet when Italy took a two-goal lead against Belgium on Wednesday night, you knew the Belgians might as well apply for the extradition of the Pope as try to claw back the deficit. Whereas, when it comes to the Teutonic-temperament derbies, like the one tonight, the English have an unfortunate habit of turning Latin (especially when it comes to penalties).
And you know, maybe it's because of that very fact, I have to say I hope England beat Germany tonight. It would be good for the tournament and good for football, generally. The Germans have been so dominant for so long, winning competitions or at least reaching the finals, even with mediocre teams; whereas England haven't beaten them since 1966, and of course suffered those cruel penalty defeats in 1990 and 1996.
Above all, England are underdogs now. And what does it mean to be Irish if not to stand up for the little guy? So that's why I'll be cheering for Kevin Keegan's boys when . . .
No, it's no use. I'm still faking it.
Frank McNally can be contacted at: fmcnally@irish-times.ie
