Moral victories unlikely to suffice for Irish boss Kenny
Two outstanding documentaries on a brace of iconic figures in the Republic of Ireland’s chequered international soccer history have been screened more than once on terrestrial television in recent months.
At a most enjoyable informal seminar I attended last Easter in Dublin, the majority of the high-profile panellists named Liam Brady as our best-ever player. The majestic Dubliner spent almost seven seasons in Italy when Serie A was the place to be for the world’s best players. Totally and utterly loyal to the Irish cause, for even the most meaningless of games, his career in the green jersey which he loved ended very badly. Ireland failed to qualify for a major tournament when he was in his prime, and a combination of age, suspension, injury – and a row with the manager – dictated that his array of gifts were never on show at the top international stages.
The most iconic figure was not even an Irishman! The late Jack Charlton’s crude but effective tactics for almost ten years in the green ‘bainisteoir’ bib (the gruff but likeable Geordie would have made some fist of pronouncing that term!) provided us all with a near-decade of unsurpassed memories. And, of course, he was the aforementioned manager who fell out with Brady. Thankfully, the latter’s programme clarified that Jack had written to him to apologise for any perceived mishandling of the manager-player relationship.
When one English wit heard in the 1990s that “Glenn Hoddle had found God”, he opined: “Wow, that must have been some pass!” Well, Jack’s talent-laden players played many a one-two with the Man in the sky, but nobody really cared so long as we qualified for major tournaments. This scribe had been a devoted follower of the team for a dozen years before the arrival of Big Jack, but far too often traipsed back down from Dalymount Park or Lansdowne Rd on the N4 (and, worse again, the even-lengthier journeys in pre-motorway times) utterly dejected at our failure to make the big-time.
With more than a little help from Gary Mackay, that doom and gloom all changed in late 1987 with a ‘back door’ qualification for Euro ’88. In truth, ever since there has been an air of disappointment when the ‘boys in green’ fail to make the Euros and/or the World Cup.
Every new campaign brings fresh hope and I can seldom remember a better atmosphere in and around Dublin 4 than the one experienced eight days ago with the arrival of one of the top teams - if not the very top team - in world football. There could hardly be a tougher start to the Euro ’24 qualifiers than the visit of the French. Those of us who spent a never-to-be-forgotten eight days in Germany in 1988 crave for a return to that great football nation next summer.
However, already the road looks treacherous. Stephen Kenny will never be another Jack Charlton. Kenny’s very mediocre playing career contrasts sharply with Charlton’s long and glittering time as a no-nonsense centre-half with Leeds Utd and England. Accordingly, the affable Dubliner would need extra-special managerial skills to command the level of respect which Big Jack could in an instant, in any dressing room.
Kenny is now three years in the Abbotstown hot seat and, to his credit, has honoured his commitment to have his charges play a passing game, with an absence of one-twos with God, or hoofs into Row Z. Ironically, however, one of his blatant problems in this regard is the absence of any player fit to tie Brady’s laces. Or the laces of Andy Townsend, Mark Lawrenson, Ronnie Whelan, Kevin Sheedy, or Paul McGrath, all of whom were available to Jack as central midfielders of the very top quality in and around the mid-1980s.
I have listed six players. As it happens, Kenny now picks three midfielders from six players of the same ‘ordinary’ standard. Josh Cullen is usually listed as our top midfielder, and the very likely promotion of Burnley to the Premier League next season should certainly sharpen his skills, but he and the other five are hardly on the radar of any club with Champions League ambitions. Therein lies Ireland’s main problem. And methinks will continue to do so.
Nathan Collins and Evan Ferguson look like they may end up being at least close to a top-class defender and striker respectively, but otherwise Kenny is picking from quite an ordinary group. He seems to have commanded enormous respect from his troops and his intentions are hugely honourable, but this columnist has always detested excitement of any sort at moral victories, albeit Cullen’s horrendous error which gifted Benjamin Pavard the game’s only goal, and Mike Maignan’s breathtaking late save from Collins (“the best ever save on Irish soil”, according to a certain Packie Bonner) were the two incidents which dictated the outcome. Indeed, one can only imagine Big Jack roaring from the best seat in the sky to Cullen at that fatal moment, “Stop f****ing around with the ball.”
The reality now is that the ‘boys in green’ will almost certainly need a bare minimum of a draw against Greece in the Agia Sophia Stadium on June 16 to maintain realistic hopes of securing an automatic qualification slot as one of the top two teams in the group. The signs are that The Netherlands may not be quite as potent as was originally feared, but the Greek match is likely to be the litmus test three days before a guaranteed (surely?) win in the Aviva against Gibraltar.
We would all like Stephen Kenny to get a break or two down the line. But the blunt assessment of probably his second most successful predecessor Mick McCarthy that “management is a results-driven business” is totally correct. A Greek tragedy can’t be countenanced.