A Day We Will Never Forget

(26 Mar 2009)

 

Prologue

6am (ish) – Wake up and first thought is how do I feel on this day of days – to be honest I am a little anxious – will I get a ticket, will Ireland do the job (I subsequently find out that George Hook also woke early and was very anxious having been confident all week!). My first (and only) mistake of the day is made, although it turns out to be a blessing. Thinking it was 6.30am I get up and get moving – 30 minutes later the 6 O’clock news comes on the radio – time for a relaxing breakfast and chat with my wife (who is now also awake and worrying about me, the ticket and the match).
 

The Journey Begins

7am (ish) - Start heading for airport – sun is shining over Sandymount – it is a clear beautiful morning – good sign. Port Tunnel is closed – but I should have known because diversion takes me by Croker and I have my first emotional moment of the day – I am thinking of Dad, of the Dubs, of Ireland’s other wins this year, C’Mon Ireland – keep focussed, keep moving. I am only a fan – how must the players be feeling.

7.30am – What’s this – Fog – North County Dublin is covered in it – keep the nerve – focus on the job at hand. The Airport is mobbed but bristling with excitement and giddiness – this Day is ours and we ain’t gonna miss it – fog or no fog. Plane is delayed 60 mins – information sheets are out – need to change train time for London to Cardiff leg, ring Cardiff train station to see if they have a left luggage facility (they don’t !), ring hotel to confirm as I won’t be stopping there now until tonight.

12.15pm – Arrive Paddington – Next Train to Cardiff is 12.35pm – make decision to leave overnight bag in Paddington Left Luggage (it closes at 11pm and if I am not back in time so be it!) – am now 1 hour behind – train due in Cardiff at 2.45pm – leaving just under 3 hours to get a TICKET. Stay calm, stay focussed. Remember, the Gods have already decided – all I can do is put myself in the right place to receive my fate – take out an extra £100 just to reassure the Gods I am doing my bit.

12.45 pm – still in Paddington waiting for the ‘special’ train to take off (or whatever trains do) – this one doesn’t appear to be doing much. Have my first break though of the Day – the chap in the seat in front of me is London Welsh and is heading to the match – I enquire about a spare ticket and lo and behold he says he has access to two, is awaiting phone calls and will see what he can do with the one he does not need. Turns out Geoff (my new best friend) is a Welsh Barbarian heading to a lunch with them – he is anxious to get to Cardiff for the lunch. My strategy is very clear – stick close to Geoff (man-mark him!). Do a good job to look disinterested while Geoff awaits his calls – keep busy by tuning into the radio stations along the way – Radio Berkshire whose main worry appears to be the Reading soccer match – finally Geoff declares that the second ticket has been taken from his grasp and he will not now be in a position to give it to a complete stranger. Goodbye Geoff.
 

Cardiff – Game on

3.35pm – Arrive Cardiff – turns out the ‘special’ train was not so special and took 1 hour longer than a scheduled train – Cardiff is a sea of Green and Red – the place is heaving – the sun is shining – I get my first view of the Stadium – it’s GAME ON.

Within 1 minute I am confronted by the first offer – he asks me my limit – I reply I have none and enquire what is his objective – he replies he wants ‘top dollar’ (a very Welsh expression for enough to buy several sheep and a plot of land for grazing them) – unknowns to me Geoff The Barbarian has witnessed this and grabs me by the arm declaring that on no account will he let a Welsh man do that to me – he suggests I stick with him and he will see if there is a loose ticket at the gig he is attending – to quote Geoff some very important people are at his gig and this is my best chance – I am now in Geoff’s hands.

I am not allowed into the gig, but Geoff tells me to wait upstairs in the public area – there is a bar and large screens – he has my mobile number and he will call me. I get my first drink of the day and start the hunt for the TICKET in earnest. The next 2 hours will decide my fate and the two hours after that will decide Ireland’s fate – both are inter-linked now – nothing will be left in the locker room. I take up a position where people are entering / leaving and take out my specially composed sign. It reads ‘Jackie Kyle is my grandfather. I need to represent him at the match’. I am getting lots of reaction and the Welsh people are being very kind and sincere. One chap informs me that I should head for the Angel Hotel where many Welsh meet to exchange tickets with their pals. Often, a loose one can emerge. I note this advice, in case Geoff doesn’t deliver. A second Welsh man (whose daughter I paid £1 to hold my sign while I went to the loo!) takes my mobile number and promises to ring if anything materialises.
 

Time to hit the streets

4.30pm – No word form Geoff – decision time – I hit the first floor and blag my way into the Welsh Barbarian gig – I find Geoff and he confirms that some of the ‘very important people’ he mentioned don’t even have a ticket – so I thank him again. It is now time to hit the streets – 60 minutes between me and ignominy.

4.33pm – On the way to the Angel Hotel hoping my guardian angel is on the job – run into first tout who asks me if I am selling – I say I am looking too – next minute he shouts over to his pal who is 100 yards away – turns out the friend has one ticket left – I need one ticket – the deal is struck. As I count out my money 3 more people come up to him to offer to buy it – but he sticks with me. I have my TICKET – Game On ! No doubts in my mind that this ticket is not genuine – first thing I check is that it is enter by Gate 3 – yes, I can see Gate 3 ahead. Why I think this means it is genuine is not rationale but ‘don’t stop me know’ is the soundtrack in my head.
 

Deliverance

4.38pm – I am in – can you believe it. All very simple in the end – but I really believed it would happen (the Irish team would call it self-belief) – I am privileged and honoured to be here – to represent my family (Aileen & Harriet), the Mc Donough family, the Cosgrove family, all of Ireland. It seems so natural that I am here, but I do appreciate that many things had to happen along the way, not least of which is Aileen and Harriet encouraging me to go for it.
 

The Match

Pre-match singing – have never heard anything like this – the Welsh can sing. Connect directly to Clonskeagh so they can share in the atmosphere. Go down near the front to see Woody, Jonathan Davies and John Inverdale getting ready for the Beeb – they are enjoying the crack with the crowd. The Irish are doing their warm up in front of us – they look relaxed and focussed. I hope they know that I made it !

I take my seat and introduce myself to all The Welsh people around me. I ask if there is anything they want to say about Ireland to get it out of the way now. They assure me they like Ireland. Lawrence and his son Rhys were expecting another club member to be beside them – they will have to put up with me shouting my head off instead.

The anthems next – ours is poor but it doesn’t somehow seem to matter – the Welsh one is uplifting for everybody. What transpires next is well documented. I will only recount here the emotional experience of one who felt every kick, every tackle, and every refereeing decision as it unfolded.

First Half
We are good – a little nervous, tentative but good – Wales make 3 to 4 half breaks, but our defence holds tight. The lineouts are ours, but we lack the finishing touches. Our tactics appear to be wrong – we have been in the Welsh ’22 three times and have come away with ‘Nul Points’. Meanwhile Wales kick 2 penalties. 0-6 to Wales – it’s time to have a chat – halftime. I try to reply to the many texts I have received during the first half from Ireland – people want to know am I in, what is it like. In the second half the texts dry up as the Nation holds its breath as to what will unfold.

 

Second Half
What a first ten minutes – Ireland explode – up the intensity and the pressure – before you know it (i) Drico does the No. 7 job again and (ii) T. Bowe grabs ROG’s kick and is in under the sticks. The Irish suddenly all stand up at once – we are everywhere and we are all signing and jumping and hugging heretofore strangers. Could it really be this easy – NO. Wales gradually claw their way back – penalty by penalty. The intensity goes up another few notches – we are fighting back but not getting any scores.

 

Final 10 Minutes
We survive tremendous Welsh pressure only to finally go behind to a Jones drop goal – I look at the Irish team and led by O’Connell they all rush to the half way line – they know what they need to do. What happens next may have gone unnoticed – Wales claim the kick off – Philips passes back into the 22 to Jones who kicks it out on the full. Ireland now have the lineout in the Welsh ’22. This directly leads to the series of rucks, which gives ROG the drop goal chance. Words cannot describe the unrefined joy that erupts – but wait, we need to dig in for a few more minutes – secure the ball and put in under the jersey. It is hard to describe what happens next – we seem in control but just as we look safe Wayne Barnes awards Wales their 17^th penalty (we got 4 !) on the half way line – this is the equivalent of jumping out of a plane – we have just been kicked out without a parachute.

I cannot watch – I am on the floor – at this point I believe we are to lose everything – has it really come to this. Despair suddenly turns to disbelief and very quickly to an outpouring of sheer joy. Grown men are crying now – hugging each other – letting big roars out of them – we have finally arrived at this moment and it feels FANTASTIC.

 

The Party

It has been a privilege to have witnessed this first hand. I hope I have described some of the emotions and drama of the day as it happened to me and then the team. The next set of scenes are all tinged with nostalgia and high jinks – Jackie Kyle (my grand father !) being interviewed and then shaking hands with Drico – surely Ireland’s two greatest ever players. Drico coming over to us to be mobbed by the crowd and finally rescued by the stewards. The Bull with the biggest smile on his face like he just won first prize for one of his Heifers. They all pass by us – ROG, Jamie, Luke my man, Rob, Stephen Ferris suddenly moving well again – they too drink it all in. What must the men of ’48 be feeling now – a sense of release perhaps. What about all the great players that never had this – Slats, Willie Duggan, Mike Gibson, Willie John, Whigs Mulcahy, Ray McLaughlin, Ollie & Tony, Gallaimh & The Claw, Woody & Axel – it reminds us how hard it is to achieve this.

 

Final moments

Leaving the ground and the spontaneous signing of The Fields

Welsh people continually shaking your hand – they are truly a gracious people and know how to behave (unlike Warren Gatland I am afraid)

Meeting people queuing for the train back to London – not knowing if we would make it and not really caring.

Finally making it to the last carriage and the almightiest party kicking off – 2 ½ hours of signing, champagne, cheese and grapes and bread being handed out – the last time I saw this king of togetherness and camaraderie was when we queued for The Pope in ’79.

Finally making it to London at 10.50pm – 10 minutes left to collect the bag – did I ever doubt it - dining in a Greek restaurant before I collapsed into my hotel.
 

Postscript - The End but really only The Beginning.

The world, at least briefly, seems a better place. The hotel provide me with a free Sunday Indo – I read AJ O’Reilly’s article about Jim McCarthy (Back row in ’48) regaling him with stories for 61 years – Jim will have to share the stage now with the new crop of heroes. It’s time to go home.

Remember this date – the day Ireland delivered.

 

Kevin Mc Donough – 21^st March 2009