An Irishman's Diary

The Inis Oírr International Bodhrán Summer School is a metaphor for the recent economic history of Ireland. It started quietly on Monday (the school, not the economic history), with students being separated into classes.

As late as yesterday, there was still an apologetic note to the scheduled programme, with a talk on "the Hidden Rhythms of Irish Traditional Music". But the pace picks up today, when there will be a discussion on "Bodhrán Making in Bavaria". Meanwhile, classes continue. And the event comes to a noisy climax on Friday when participants combine for something called a "Megabash".

The bodhrán is a controversial instrument in Irish music circles. Some purists argue that "hidden" is where the rhythms should have stayed. At any rate, the bodhrán is the black sheep of the traditional instrument family, partly because its exponents cannot always be relied on to exercise discretion in its use. The words "restraint" and "drummer" rarely occur in the same sentence, except occasionally in court reports. But there have been signs of a peace process in recent times, which the choice of venue for the summer school should help. Only the most bigoted anti-percussionists will refuse to applaud the consideration shown by the organisers in holding their event on a remote island.

The bodhrán played a central role in one of the things sometimes credited with sparking Ireland's economic miracle: Italia 90. Just as Brazilian footballers perform to samba rhythms, so Jack Charlton's Republic of Ireland side went into battle 16 years ago to the rattle of Ireland's national drum. A potential drawback was that most of the fans with bodhráns couldn't actually play. But then again, the team couldn't play either. It was a perfect match.

Inspired by the lack of rhythm on the terraces, the boys in green lumped the ball forward at every opportunity and waited for the opposition to mistime their clearances. The pity is we didn't get Brazil in the quarter-final: our bodhrán players could have really messed with their heads. But the plan worked well while it lasted. We pounded opponents into submission, on and off the pitch, playing five rounds and reaching the last eight of the World Cup with a grand total of two goals, neither involving anything as fancy as a build-up. The team didn't have to score, or even threaten to score, to thrill us. Remember Genoa? Two chance-less hours that gripped a nation.

But we've moved on from that now. Thanks to the Tiger economy which the Genoa penalty shoot-out helped to start, we have become a much more sophisticated people. In fact, some of us didn't realise just how sophisticated we were until we watched the Ukraine-Switzerland match the other night.

Some months ago, an economist suggested that Ireland could be the "Switzerland of the 21st century". He didn't say what would happen to the current Switzerland under this plan. Now, maybe we know. In Cologne on Monday, there were signs that Switzerland is turning into the Ireland of the 20th century. No doubt they were gripped by the game back in Basle and Berne. But for the neutral observer - no, wait a minute, that won't work - for the rest of us, the match was a crime under the Convention on Torture. The Swiss fans were colourful in inverse proportion to their team, watching which sapped your will to live.

By the end of 120 minutes, the RTÉ studio panel was paraphrasing Harry Lime: ". . .In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, 50 years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? Not a meaningful shot on goal, that's for sure." We all agreed with the panellists about the poverty of the Swiss tactics. And we tried to ignore the massive bodhrán player in the room, until Liam Brady finally acknowledged the striking similarities with Genoa.

Of course the Swiss lost the penalty shoot-out, thereby missing a quarter-final with Italy, so they may be going through the Irish experience in reverse. If they are, economic depression, mass emigration and centuries of colonisation now await. They can blame their team manager for not being more adventurous.

Ireland's new-found sophistication vis-à-vis the World Cup has been helped massively by our failure to qualify. Without the emotionalism that has clouded judgment in past tournaments, we can watch the football as purists, hoping the best team wins, or whatever. The purist in me would like to see Argentina lift the cup. Unfortunately, the purist in me was recently bought out by the pragmatist, who had backed Miroslav Klose at 20-1 to be tournament's top scorer and who then drew Italy in the office pool.

So to hell with entertainment. I now refer to the Germans in the first person plural (we make bodhráns in Bavaria, you know). But come the semi-final, I want Italy to win, despite yet another goal from the gallant Klose, who will go on to score his seventh, eighth and ninth of the tournament when clinching the third-place play-off. I know this is selfish, but I can't help it. I'm a victim of the rampant materialism created by Ireland's so-called boom, which shows no signs of relenting, and certainly not on Inis Oírr.