The best team DID wIn

LET US go back in time to the events preceding the Nazi takeover of Lansdowne Road. You may recall that a football match had been in progress, and that the Republic of Ireland were trouncing England 1-0.

Everything that I saw during this half-an-hour of unarmed combat seemed to verify what Foul Play has believed to be the case for a long time now.

Mind you, regular readers will know that events are constantly verifying the deeply-held convictions of Foul Play to the extent that they seem to be arranged for that specific purpose. And anyone who retorts that Foul Play tipped Arsenal to win the Carling Premiership pulling up, clearly wasn’t reading between the lines.

There, between the lines, you would have noticed that in predicting victory from Arsenal, there was a clearly implicit suggestion that they would flop horribly, their manager would be charged with war crimes, and their tricky winger would emerge as a world-class degenerate.

Anyway, Ireland’s 1—0 victory over England (the result stands in my record books) was further proof (if proof was, as they say, needed) that the Republic are basically a better team than England.

Most pundits agree that the Republic are more “together” than England, and have managed their resources more effectively. Between the lines, however, there is the implication that these resources are “meagre”, “slim”, “threadbare”, and so forth, and that Jack has made a silk purse out of a sow’s lug.

To this I say, “bollocks”.

I think that it is possible to demonstrate on a player-by-player basis, almost with mathematical precision, that Ireland are likely to beat England come what may, as Vicky Leandros so rightly pointed out whilst winning the Eurovision Song Contest for little Luxembourg, (though I believe that she is a Greek national). (Very interesting. I’ll check that out immediately – Ed.)

In goal, there is nothing between Alan Kelly and David Seaman, other than the fact that Kelly’s name doesn’t rhyme with “semen”. There’s a lot of that stuff flying around Highbury these days.

Our full-backs Denis Irwin and Gary Kelly have no peer in the Premiership. We are already ahead on points.

Moving to the centre of the defence, we have Paul McGrath, and they have Tony Adams.

I rest my case.

If they are similar in any way, it is that they both like to “live life to the full”, except that Adams got jailed for it. He took his eye off that ball as well.

Gary Pallister and Phil Babb? I’d go for Babb, because unlike Pallister, his face isn’t contorted at all times into an expression which approximates that of a day shitting razorblades. It encourages the opposition when they see a man so unhappy in his work.

On then to the engine-room, and a choice between “Keano” and Paul Ince, the Duracell midfielders. They are both whole-hearted, high-skilled belligerent, and occasionally violent players, but “Keano” appears to relish it more. I’ll go for “Keano”.

Andy Townsend has stated that “Platty” isn’t fit to lace his boots, and that’s good enough for me. The lacing of boots is a crucial element in effective midfield play. Otherwise, you’ll just be tripping over yourself. Andy gets the nod over “Platty”.

John Sheridan as opposed to Dennis Wise? Don’t make me fucking laugh.

All that the likes of Wise and Adams and even Ince prove is that England’s players have more difficulty staying out of the slammer than their barbaric supporters.

Young Jason McAteer and Darren Anderton will both embark on mazy dribbles for you, but with Anderton, there is more of a sense of premature ejaculation. Jason is also better craic, and he has a background in boxing which can come in handy in the heat of battle. It’s a 50-50 ball between Jason and Darren, but for reasons of prejudice, I will give young Jason the edge.

When it comes to sticking the ball in the net, propelling the orb into the onion-sack, putting the sphere in the cobwebs, my calculation, on initial perusal, would appear to be difficult to sustain. (Until you remember the fact that Steve Staunton can score goals, directly from corners, for Christ’s sake – Ed)

Quinnie and Aldo versus Shearer and Ferdinand? Quinnie and Coyne versus Shearer and Le Tissier? Peter Beardsley versus David Kelly! Hmmm, it’s a teaser.

Let us say that on a good day, Shearer and your old uncle Ernie would be quite a formidable proposition, but then, Shearer has to get the ball before he can sweep it between the posts.

And having established that the rest of the England team are so demonstrably inferior to their Republic counterparts, he is more likely to get hypothermia up there than to get on the end of a pass.

Quinnie, meanwhile, is serviced by such a wealth of sheer class that he can even set up Tommy Coyne for the odd strike.

Le Tissier and Big Cas? Well, Big Cas is far better in the air than Big Mattie. There is no denying that, is there?

Le Tissier has a French name, but Cas has actually gone to France, and scored oodles of goals. That must count for something.

Both Cas and Mattie only play for 20 minutes, except that Mattie is actually on the field for the full 90.

Give or take a couple of lucky free-kicks and the odd circus trick, I’d call it . . . a draw.

While the extraneous events at Lansdowne Road were deeply disturbing, if only for demonstrating the merits of police brutality, or the park, it was no contest, mate.

We have beaten England 1-0, and beaten them 1-1 on three occasions. Again we beat them 1-0, match abandoned.

The best team wins.