“We're not just going to France to take part.”
There’s shades of Conor McGregor about David Meyler. He’s not boastful – far from it – but the Cork midfielder was always a fighter at heart. Battling back to playat the highest level after not one but two serious knee injuries proves his bonafides as a warrior. So too does the fact that he clawed his way into Martin O’Neill’s final squad against fierce opposition.
“A lot of the lads guaranteed selection with their performances in qualifying,” he reasons. “And rightly so. They’ve done tremendously well. For the few scrapping for it, you’ve got to make sure you’re doing everything you can – and make sure that the manager knows you really want to be a part of it. I try to live with that mentality, and carry that approach to everything.”
It’s a mentality that certainly stood him in good stead when he was deployed as an emergency right-back against world champions Germany in Gelsenkirchen, showcasing both his versatility and his mental strength – as well as no small amount of ability. Now, the same outlook is in evidence on the eve of Euro 2016.
“As much as we’re smaller than the countries in our group, we want to make a name for ourselves. We’re not just going to France to take part. We’ll have game-plans worked out for each opponent, which the manager will be talking through with his coaching staff. You can bet any amount of money: he’s got designs on getting out of the group.”
The same grand ideas were probably in place four years ago, when Ireland were well and truly slung out of the tournament at thec group stage. What’s different this time?
“I can’t say a hell of a lot, given that I started playing for Ireland after the last tournament,” he laughs. “I can’t make comparisons between this squad and the last. But there’s a great togetherness on this occasion, and a real drive to succeed. You have the younger players – well, I suppose I’m 27 at this stage – but the guys I’ve played with the whole way through, since under-20s are here: Seamus Coleman, Ciaran Clark, James McCarthy, James McClean. Then you’ve the likes of Shay Given, Robbie Keane and John O’Shea, all of whom have 100-plus caps and have been to the big tournaments before. So it’s a combination of youth and experience, along with a manager who has a great track record over the years. He’s come in and brought fresh ideas – just look at the job he’s done, along with [assistant manager] Roy Keane and [head coach] Steve Walford.”
It was inevitable that the name of Cork’s most renowned midfielder would come up. Anyone from the Rebel City who plies his trade in the centre of the park is likely to attract comparisons to Roy the Boy, but David’s connection runs deeper. It was during Keane’s tenure as Sunderland manager that the Rochestown native traded his hometown club of Cork City for the bright lights of the Premier League, where he observed first-hand the often under-appreciated coaching ability of the Irish No. 2.
“People forget how great his achievements at Sunderland were. Taking over at a side at the bottom of the Championship and leading them to promotion with a record number of points was phenomenal. He’s helped me develop as a player; it’s nice to get pointers from someone who’s played in your position. He understands it better than I do, because he played at the very top for so many years. And obviously, he’s a winner. He won seven Premier League titles at Manchester United, and success is burned into him. It’s the same with the manager: that success, and that confidence, which they have, spreads throughout the squad.”
David arrives in France with his own momentum, having helped Hull to secure promotion to the Premier League via the play-offs. And, having seen what happened in the top division in the last year, they won’t be there just to make up the numbers either.
“The last time we were promoted, Leicester lost in the playoffs,” he recalls. “That season, we beat them at the King Power, and drew at home. The following year they went up, but looked destined for relegation until going on a six-game winning streak, which is amazing: that’s the sort of thing a Chelsea, Man City or Man Utd would do. Looking at what happened this season, it gives any team hope of what you can do when you have that hunger to succeed.”
The fact that the domestic triumph ran right into the Euro preparations meant David was left thirsty as well as hungry – not that you’re likely to hear him complain about missing out on a few shandies.
“I’ll have a pint when I’m allowed to,” he grins, “but you won’t see me at the end of a bar the night before a game. That’s just not professional. If I go to my local bar in Douglas, where I know the staff and the regulars, it’s not ‘Oh, there’s a footballer’. They’re saying ‘Oh, Dave’s home’. I’m no different to a fella getting back from Australia.”
This writer, having abandoned the People’s Republic himself, knows the feeling of going back to where everyone knows your name – but it’s hardly the same.
“I’ll ask you a question here,” he replies, turning the tables. “What’s the difference between me and you?” Three stone, 15 caps, and a couple of hundred grand would be the correct response, but he’s on a roll here. “There’s really not that many differences between us.”
Given that members of the Trinity Street Massive have spent years trying to convince anyone who’ll listen that working for Hot Press is like playing in the Premier League, I hardly need convincing. Neither, at this point, do the nearby representatives from 3 and the FAI, who had earlier looked on in utter bemusement as we agreed that, yes, the ideal way to begin an interview was to play a game of table tennis.
“We’re both from Cork,” he says, as though our indecipherable exchange of ‘likes’, ‘y’knows’ and ‘biys’ would have left any room for doubt. “You played GAA for Bishopstown, I played for Blackrock. You went to school in Togher, I went to school in Ballintemple. We’re even the same age. But I get put on this pedestal.”
He shrugs.
“I’ve heard funny stories about things I’ve supposedly done when I wasn’t even in the country! It doesn’t faze me. You have to deal with it: you know you can’t change people’s opinions. I just worry about letting my Mum and Dad down. They’ve raised me to be better than some of the stuff that does happen.”
On occasion, Mum and Dad have had to deal with the 24/7 nature of life in a goldfish bowl.
“They were out one night having a drink, when a fella who probably had about 15 too many approached them and started hammering me. My father wouldn’t rise to it, having been involved in sport, but with my mother it’s different. That’s still her son he’s talking about. I’m a mummy’s boy, and I don’t mind saying that! But for every bad incident like that, there’s ten good ones. My father still goes to mass every week, and the priest and everyone else will be asking after me, and talking about how I’ve been doing.”
That 1:10 ratio isn’t always as generous online!
“When you’re winning, and playing well, and chipping in the odd goal, Twitter’s your best friend. Then you have a bad moment, and the whole thing explodes in your face. It can get nasty at times, so you need a thick skin. They say football’s great because everyone has an opinion, and I agree with that – but not everyone’s opinion matters. I’ve been slaughtered after a performance, and I’ve had the manager come out and say I was the best player on the field. Which one do you think matters to me? I’ve recently become a father, and I’ve seen players getting things where their kids are mentioned. People could say anything about me and I can take it, but bringing in my family does make it different.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t suffer from itchy Twitter fingers.
“I’m not too bad,” he laughs. “I think you’d have to talk to James McClean about that!”
As the clock ticks down to the kick-off against Sweden, thoughts of Twitter, pints and everything else are banished – as, indeed, are nerves.
“In our profession, you can’t afford to be nervous,” he states. “You have to concentrate, and focus 100%, ready for the job at hand. That means training as you mean to play, using every moment of every session, and leaving nothing in the tank. I don’t want to turn around in a few months’ time and say, ‘I really should have done more’.”