TV VIEW:WE WERE trying to remember who John Hayes reminded us of on Saturday when he led the Irish team out at Twickenham with all the comfort of Dustin Hoffman in Laurence Olivier's dental chair.
It was that moment when Ireland’s own Marathon Man looked over his shoulder and realised his now former friends had hung back in the tunnel, leaving him all alone in the centre of the pitch, that prompted us to ask: “Who’s he like?”
Ah! Paul McGrath after his testimonial at Lansdowne Road 12 years ago.
“You’re the most popular player ever to play for Ireland, have you any explanation for that yourself,” he was asked. He came a bit close himself to looking over his shoulder, wore an expression of utter befuddlement, and whispered: “Who, me?”
Birds of a feather, you have to conclude, the White Pearl of Cappamore striking us as a man who’d rather have his molars unsympathetically drilled by a Nazi dentist than be taking centre stage and gathering the plaudits.
“One hundred times he’s been buried in the frontrow,” said Tom McGurk, but like ourselves he knew he’d rather be there than sitting in front of a microphone. Especially when he could be buried in the frontrow barbecuing prime English beef.
Over on the BBC Keith Wood gave up trying to coax Hayes in to confessing that he was a bit of a legend, getting considerably more out of him when the conversation turned to the lambing season in Cappamore.
The day’s big question, though, was: could Hayes Co fleece England once more? Absolutely, insisted George Hook, who first took time out to pay tribute to the Bull. “I’ve always felt a terrible sense of disappointment for John Hayes,” he said, explaining that if, as a young man, he’d played loosehead rather than tighthead he’d have been a better prop forward. As touching a tribute as we heard all day. (Apart from when he said “Tomás O’Leary couldn’t pass quickly behind the Maginot Line”).
The match. “Ireland will win comfortably,” said George, “that means in the last 10 minutes I’m not going to be chewing my fingernails.”
Excellent.
Brent Pope? “I think Ireland will win, but I think we will be biting our nails in the last 10 minutes – it will be very tight . . . 19-15 to Ireland.”
Killjoy. And, need it be said, Brent was hopelessly wrong, apart from the nail-chewing bit, the final score, was in fact, 20-16. And he calls himself a pundit?
As Ryle Nugent put it when the decisive try was scored: “Tommy BooooooOOOOOOOooooooowe!!!!!!” Our thoughts. Exactly.
Mind you, when the camera picked out a crestfallen Martin Johnson in the stands, his frustration and dismay needing no subtitles, we felt for him. In a “ha ha ha ha ha” kind of way. Juvenile, of course, but look, this is Martin Johnson we’re talking about.
George, nails bitten to the quick, rejoiced. Seriously. Then he started reminiscing about past Twickenham triumphs . .. “and in 1623 Spikey Reilly dummied his way past Cecil Hardy-Harr and set up Semtex O’Siochain for the winning try” – prompting Brent and Conor to nod off. They were awakened by George’s address to the nation, when he insisted rugby “crosses the political, the class and the religious divides”, leading us to believe when the Irish Invictus is made George will vie for the role of Nelson O’Mandela.
If they ever make the Cross-Country Skiing version of Invictus Justyna Kowalczyk will be yer only woman. Toe to toe – ski to ski? – she was with triple gold medallist Marit Bjoergen all the way through their 90 minute trudge in the snowy backwoods of Vancouver.
And after all that torture there were but inches between them as they approached the finishing line, every time you thought one of them was about to keel over from exhaustion they came again. Kowalczyk prevailed, just, in a gobsmacking climax. “These women have the lungs of Shetland ponies,” said Hazel Irvine, which we assumed was a good thing.
We tried, honest, to enjoy the figure skating, but concluded we’d rather sit in Laurence Olivier’s dental chair before watching it again. “She had one triple and didn’t hit the second triple flip, so just the double there, but the triple flip, double toe, double loop, the triple toe loop, triple lutz and triple loop all had exquisite solid landings – lovely, lovely, lovely job,” said Robin Cousins after Japan’s Akiko Suzuki did her thing. It reminded us of ugly experiences with logarithm books, when the maths teacher would inform you you were holding it upside down. Like figure skating, we never noticed the difference.
