TV VIEW:YOU HAD to worry there were people in that underground car park last week, just going about their business, packing their shopping in to their boots, when a curious character lurking in the shadows began peering around pillars and shouting about South African rugby being in a state of panic because of new IRB directives .
Those who didn’t recognise him would have had the living daylights scared out of them, the others might just have said: “There, there, George, calm down – would you like a lift home?”
“Jeez, it was like Hitchcock,” said Brent Pope, his daylights on the studio floor, while Conor O’Shea just looked frightened, as if Norman Bates had walked in on him while he was having a shower.
Hook, though, just shrugged, sure where else would you film your pre-match analysis but a city centre underground car park?
Over the panel’s shoulders, through the studio rear window, so to speak, we could see a two thirds full/one third empty stadium, sort of burying that auld canard about the rugby folk being recession-proof. Unless, of course, they’re wintering in Montserrat.
The smallish crowd, though, offered the panel the happy prospect of being able to hear Francois Pienaar’s pre-match thoughts from pitch-side, but he’d hardly opened his mouth when the stadium announcer started: WELCOMING EVERYONE BACK TO THE HOME OF IRISH RUGBY with decibel-defying gusto. Lads? We might be broke, but we’re not deaf.
Brent raised our spirits by pointing out that South Africa were short of just the 13 world-class players, while George suggested the other two had been on the lash all week after their end-of-club-season celebrations.
The omens, then, were good for our FIRST MATCH AT THE REFURBISHED HOME OF IRISH RUGBY (and football).
Hook, in fact, thought the South African team selected for the game was so rubbishy he tipped them to win. Why? Well, he thought Ireland were ‘rubbisher’, much of his ire directed at the selection of Mick O’Driscoll, his belittlement of whom bordered on the, well, less than pleasant.
What about the other O’Driscoll? “If Brian O’Driscoll was a Ferrari motor car,” he said, “he’d be in the knackers’ yard – if that’s not a contradiction.” “It is,” said Tom McGurk. Brent and Conor nodded. So did we.
Off we went. Uh oh. You know that music from the shower scene? Hit “play”. Half-time.
Gloom and doom. And gratitude to the referee. “Nigel Owens now joins Eamon de Valera and Michael Collins as a hero of the Republic – he has saved us from embarrassment, he has given us everything,” said an indebted George.
Over on the BBC, Jeremy Guscott confessed himself to be “staggered”.
“I thought South Africa would get demolished by Ireland.” Keith Wood just stared in to space (ie the upper decks in the stadium).
Back on RTÉ, George, to his credit, was staying calm. “It’s a failure of management! We’re rubbish! Incompetent! Badly captained! Badly coached! No direction!” “A ridiculous over reaction,” sighed Conor.
Second half. Ah, Ronan. Come on, admit it, how many of you danced around the living room while under the assumption his conversion went over, all the time hollering: “TAKE THAT, HOOKIE BABES”? Scarlet.
A stirring fightback, no? Well, yeah, but it didn’t alter the panel’s mood. Just a lick of paint over a gaping fracture, the conclusion.
Tracy Piggott and Declan Kidney carried out the post mortem, Kidney visibly wilting and promising 15 changes to his next team. Ha.
“I didn’t learn anything from that,” complained McGurk of the coach’s no-panic post-match assessment. “Confession is supposed to be in a dark box with a slide and a priest – he wasn’t going to confess live on television he and his team made a right Horlicks of it,” said Hook. True. “Bless me, Tracey for I have sinned” was always a bit unlikely.
After the defeat and the post-match “WE’RE DOOMED!” consensus you’d need a bit of good news to pick you up. Happily, we got it, at half-time in yesterday’s Liverpool v Chelsea game. Richard Keyes beamed. “We have breaking news from the hospital!”
By then we knew that studio guest John Barnes’ wife was due a baby any minute. And? “Seven pounds, seven ounces – he’s called Alexander,” Richard informed us.
“Aw, it’s gotta be Fernando,” complained Jamie Redknapp, perhaps assuming Barnsie’s wife had spotted Torres’ first-half goal between contractions.
Barnsie was, needless to say, chuffed, but there was an element of the novelty having worn off, this being his seventh child.
“If you get a call is there a chance you might have to go?” Richard had asked him before the game. “Not at all, I’m a professional ’til the end,” he’d said. “Top man!,” said Jamie, “well, he’s dunnit six times before, ‘asn’t he?”
So, then, welcome to planet earth, Alexander. We’ll trust you’re hale and hearty, and perfectly formed. Unlike, say, Spurs’ Gareth Bale. As Jamie said of him after his display against Inter Milan, “he literally has three lungs”. Literally.
