Almost unbelievably, our rendezvous with doom in Paris passed off without Ireland being beaten, a state of affairs helped by the fact that the match didn’t actually go ahead, savage minus-10 temperatures having caused the game’s postponement. I can only imagine how frustrating the entire experience must have been for those who shelled out their hard-earned loot to go over, but from the team’s point of view, it may have done no harm at all.

Sure, this forces Ireland into the unprecedented situation of having to put themselves through the grueller on four consecutive weekends. But this daunting prospect may be outweighed by the fact that we will now face Italy fresh, fully-rested and in prime position to register a morale-boosting victory in advance of the Parisian assignment, rather than heading over there deflated and demoralised a mere six days after the loss to Wales (as originally scheduled), staring down the barrel of two straight losses and a stillborn Six Nations campaign.
Obviously, a loss to the Italians on home soil would definitively confirm that we’ve fallen on dark times, but I can’t see it happening. We humped them 36-6 a few months ago at the World Cup, after a testing first half was followed by the sort of implosion on the Azzurri’s part that never seems a million miles from the surface. Even on their better days, isolated moments of atrocious Italian defending have a tendency to grossly distort the final scoreline and thoroughly undermine the phenomenal effort they invariably put in up front.
The English have bludgeoned their way to a 100% record after two games despite looking pretty shocking, the only discernible attacking ploy in their armoury being Charlie Hodgson’s uncanny knack of charging down opposition kicks in their own danger-zone. This, combined with Owen Farrell’s remarkably accurate boot, has been just about good enough to get the job done so far, but their line-up is still frighteningly low on ingenuity and, to be blunt about it, basic quality.
The Welsh have been a joy to watch, freewheeling and fearless, almost intuitive in their anticipation of one another’s movements – but they are not the finished article either, with set-piece weakness and suspect defending still a problem. They nearly let the Scots back out of the coffin during the teams’ recent meeting, and if Stuart Hogg hadn’t had a try unjustly ruled out for a knock-on, there’s every possibility the Scots might have mounted a preposterous comeback from 27-6 down to seize a draw.
Indeed, the Scots bossed the final quarter of that game completely, did likewise for much of the game against England, and despite an apparent phobia of scoring tries which has now entered the realms of black comedy, will in all likelihood be a tougher nut for Ireland to crack than is generally appreciated.
Meanwhile, Trappy’s Army get the serious business of Euro 2012 preparation under way next week with a friendly against the enigmatic Czechs. In an ideal world, this would afford the manager a perfect opportunity to start the process of bedding in Messrs. Coleman and McClean, with mere months to go before we enter our first major finals in a decade against three richly talented opponents with a midfield that might charitably be described as ‘functional’ and ‘workmanlike’. But Trap is nothing if not consistent, appears terminally loath to place faith in anybody under the age of 25, and the chances of him risking either of Ireland’s emerging young sensations can be estimated as slim.
I am not attacking the venerable Italian here, whose achievement in restoring safety-first savvy to the Ireland team deserves to be recognised as a feat of no small magnitude. He has got us to where we are, and there is some validity in the argument that Coleman, excellent going forward, still represents a significant risk defensively. But exactly the same charge could be levelled at Stephen Ward and Stephen Kelly: Ward, in particular, had a nightmare in Moscow and would not get away with a display like that this summer.
McClean’s rise has been positively meteoric, and he has surely shown more than enough to warrant serious consideration as a starting first-XI option. But Trap’s is a set-up where it appears almost impossible to fast-track one’s way into the line-up without being deemed to be jumping the queue.
Far more disturbing are the reports that Stephen Ireland is now apparently considering gracing the team with his presence, the other lads having done the hard work by actually qualifying for a major tournament in his absence.
In view of everything we’ve learned about the lad to date, it doesn’t seem too cynical to speculate that he quite fancies the idea of becoming a national hero this summer. Sure, international football is an unpaid inconvenience and completely beneath him when it’s a qualifier in Slovakia and the club season is in full swing. But the Euro finals look like an infinitely more glamorous assignment: the eyes of the world will be fully fixed on the tournament, and the lack of tangible financial remuneration would surely be off-set by the general boost to his profile and the possibility that a starring role this summer would surely add a few zeroes to his market value.
As with Carlos Tevez, I can only respond: are you fucking serious? The fact that a genuinely committed Stephen Ireland would enhance the team’s on-pitch prospects is, surely, self-evident. Hence the argument now being advanced in some quarters that welcoming him back into the fold is a matter of simple common-sense.
But principle has to count for something. There is simply no spin that can be placed on the ‘Grannygate’ fiasco which comes close to justifying his behaviour towards the team and fans at the time, and there are certain boundaries that cannot be crossed without permanently relinquishing one’s right to wear the shirt.
Factors such as reliability, loyalty and trustworthiness remain paramount even in 2012, and the Cobh man has made a number of witheringly dismissive statements about the international set-up in recent years which betrayed not the slightest hint of contrition.
In fact, the last time I had such a bad gut feeling about an Ireland international footballer’s commitment to the cause, the player in question surpassed my worst suspicions and distinguished himself by walking out on the team a week before the start of a World Cup. I won’t hark back here to the Saipan saga, which has been done to death, except to state that I don’t think Ireland would have acquitted themselves any better at the World Cup had Roy Keane made an 11th-hour return (and, lest we forget, his talent was truly immense compared to that of Stephen Ireland). And even if he had, we would have lost something far more valuable in the process.
To put this as kindly as I can, I think Stephen Ireland will be more than entitled to a summer of rest, relaxation and recuperation after a full season of labour at club level, and has earned a few months off. We shall press on regardless, and we haven’t done too badly without him. Once more with feeling: Poland, here we come.