Uefa Women’s European Championship Qualifier, Tallaght Stadium, 7 June 2016
Ding, ding, ding.
Excited chatter is drowning out the sounds of the Luas tram.
It’s a beautiful summer’s evening in Dublin, and the red line to Tallaght is typically busy. While most of the passengers are commuters with headphones in after a long workday, a large group catches the eye. They are responsible for much of the buzz amidst the humdrum. And the colour, kids and adults alike wearing green.
It heavily suggests that they are going to the same place I am.
The ‘O’Sullivan 10’ jerseys confirm it.
Everything clicks. This is the family of Ireland midfielder Denise O’Sullivan, who will face Montenegro at Tallaght Stadium that evening.
And me? I am an aspiring sports journalist about to cover my first international match.
June 2016, straight out of college. The 42 have bravely sent their new intern, whose mind is racing. Thoughts aren’t just about the job at hand but logistics and procedure and practice. Where is the media entrance? How do I get to the press box? What even is accreditation?
The sight of the O’Sullivans puts me at ease. At least I know I’m going in the right direction!
I don’t remember a whole pile about the game itself. It was a heavy win for Ireland, but, a decade on now, I couldn’t have told you the exact scoreline until I looked it up when writing this essay. Áine O’Gorman and Stephanie Roche both scored hat tricks, though I can’t recall the finer details.
What I do remember is how it made me feel. I loved every minute of it.
As someone who grew up playing, I didn’t know much about women’s football outside my own bubble. This felt like a whole new world opening up before my eyes. A seminal moment, both personally and professionally.
I was hooked. I had caught the bug not many people knew existed. Thankfully, others have since joined me.
Ireland won that dead rubber Euro 2017 qualifier 9-0, a record-equalling victory at the time. Megan Connolly, Louise Quinn and Fiona O’Sullivan joined O’Gorman and Roche on the scoresheet, while rising duo, Denise O’Sullivan and Katie McCabe, came off the bench in the second half.
Katie McCabe celebrates with Stephanie Roche and Méabh De Búrca. Tommy Dickson / INPHO
Tommy Dickson / INPHO / INPHO
Just 946 fans watched on from the stands.
I was one of two people in the press box, alongside Aaron Clarke of LetsTalkLOIW.
We’ve shared many more full ones since, in packed stadiums, from Tallaght to Australia.
***
Swish.
Is there a more satisfying sound than a ball hitting the back of the net? Or a more euphoric feeling than scoring a goal?
I have many happy memories from my sporting childhood, but one stands out.
Playing with a boys’ team, respect had to be earned. A goal from a tight angle in a small-sided game one day certainly helped. Again, the finer details are hazy – my age and the result to name but two – but I remember the post-match debrief vividly.
I walked the pitch – ‘field’ is probably more appropriate – with my dad, and he jokingly checked the side-netting for a hole.
‘There’s no way it went straight in! From THERE?’
We tried to reenact it, no doubt with some poetic licence. On the end line, parallel with the post.
He acted like it was the best goal scored in history. We couldn’t wait to get home and tell Mam, and, above all else, bring bragging rights into the next intense garden battle with my little brother.
I was walking on air, 10ft tall. Dreaming.
It’s how it makes you feel.
My local club, Kingscourt Harps AFC in Cavan – a county full of lakes and drumlins in the north-east of Ireland – is where I played most of my football through the years.
From climbing the ranks with the boys to establishing a senior women’s team, there have been no shortage of highs and lows, ups and downs, successes and failures. But the memories made and friendships formed far outweigh all else.
There were stints with regional teams and other opportunities, but nothing quite beats playing with those you grew up with.
While Gaelic football took hold, at times, and injuries conspired against me, I always found a way back to the beloved red and black.
Winning the Leinster LFA Junior Shield Final in 2023, with my family and partner watching on, was one of my proudest sporting achievements.
A few months later, I stood with some of those same teammates and friends amid a sun-drenched Sydney Harbour, holding a flag which read, ‘Kingscourt Harps Ladies On Tour. COYGIG.’
Two of my friends, Sarah and Lauren, with the Kingscourt Harps flag at the Sydney Opera House. Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
My tour was different to theirs, but here we were on the other side of the world, bound by our love for football. And, most definitely, in a honeymoon phase on the morning of Ireland’s Women’s World Cup debut.
The recollections of 2002 are few and far between, bar the television being rolled into the classroom in primary school, Damien Duff’s bow, and some kerfuffle or other surrounding Roy Keane.
I have been told endless stories about Italia ’90 and USA ’94, and like the rest of my generation, feel like I missed out.
This is our time.
***
4 April 2017 –
The sights and sounds coming out of Liberty Hall are startling.
An extraordinary press conference is underway, with 14 Irish women’s national team players standing together in their fight for fairness.
Legendary captain Emma Byrne is leading the charge as they demand improved treatment and conditions.
The soundbites paint a grim picture: ‘the dirt on the FAI’s shoe’ and ‘fifth-class citizens’ among phrases used.
Shocking, but not surprising, unfortunately. It will resonate with most girls and women in sport.
“What we are fighting for here is equality,” as Byrne says during the press conference. “We are fighting for the future of women’s football.”
That landmark day. Trailblazers like her, and those who came before, are pointed back to time and time again in the years that follow.
Pioneers who always had to travel uphill against the wind.
They walked, so Katie McCabe, Denise O’Sullivan et al. could run.
They put their heads above the parapet for the next generations to reap the rewards.
Advertisement
Liberty Hall paved the way for everything that followed.
***
11 October 2022 –
The final whistle at Hampden Park is met with an orange outburst of emotion. Some players run, arms outstretched. Others drop to the ground. Many embrace in wild jubilation.
McCabe and O’Sullivan try to do all three at once, grasping each other and collapsing together near the sideline, overcome with unbridled joy.
Ireland celebrate World Cup qualification at Hampden Park. Alamy Stock Photo
Alamy Stock Photo
Finally.
A first-ever major tournament. The World Cup.
Wow.
I am shaking in the press box, trying my best to capture the moment between recording on my phone and typing furiously to file a match report for The 42.
Where does one even start?
Amber Barrett’s toe-poke. Courtney Brosnan’s penalty save.
A stunning 1-0 win over Scotland on a night of nerves and drama and magic.
All the disappointments, all the challenges and hardships and near misses, evaporate there and then.
If this is how I feel, a penny for the players’ thoughts.
Those initial moments, that rush of blood, that nirvana, will never be forgotten.
It’s how it makes you feel. It really is.
***
20 July 2023 –
Stadium Australia is heaving with over 75,000 people packed in for a sold-out blockbuster.
A huge press box is full of international journalists, as the co-hosts open the tournament and Ireland make their World Cup debut. I spot Aaron, and the knowing smile speaks a thousand words.
Seven years on from that game against Montenegro, these are very different times. Women’s football is booming worldwide.
The growth has been something to behold. So too, the rollercoaster journey that this Irish team has been on. It has all led to this very moment.
The noise is deafening as Katie McCabe leads her side out onto the biggest stage, emotion threatening to take over as ‘Amhrán na bhFiann’ is belted out and broadcast worldwide.
Goosebumps are fine but no tears, please. There’s a job to be done.
Selfishly, and maybe wrongly, I feel like I have been on this journey too. I sense an inexplicable connection or bond with the team. Even if I wasn’t covering them on the journalistic beat, that would remain the case.
Perhaps it’s younger Emma, who grew up before women’s football hit the mainstream. Maybe it’s because they’re living out my dream. Or it’s just a special group of players who have captured hearts and minds and put our little country on the map against all odds.
I’ve guarded against becoming a fan with a typewriter, always trying to stay true to journalistic values, but I won’t ever deny that love.
And the fact that every high and low is felt in tandem.
Pride is the overwhelming feeling that night in Sydney, but gut-wrenching disappointment soon takes over as Ireland are undone by a second-half penalty.
1-0. So close yet so far.
A general view of Ireland's World Cup debut at Stadium Australia. Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
A few days later, in Perth, I have to stop myself from banging the table in the press box as McCabe scores Ireland’s first World Cup goal and delivers ‘The Moment’ we all yearned for.
An Olimpico, for good measure.
But Canada come from behind to win 2–1 and eliminate Ireland.
Amidst the heartbreak and through tears, McCabe has a simple message: ‘Do it for the love of it.’ It’s one that has stayed with me and is not unique to football. It applies to everything in life.
“For myself and each and every player on the team,” the captain says, “the reason we started playing football was because of the love we have for the game and the smile it brings to our faces; the people you meet along the way, the teammates you have, and creating special moments like this.
“This is our first-ever major tournament and I know for a fact, given those performances we put in, it won’t be our last. I want young girls and young boys in Ireland to dream and look up to us, because it could be them one day, representing their country.”
“It was about creating history, getting here, but it’s also about leaving a legacy behind as well,” she adds. “We’ve given those girls and boys in Ireland the chance to dream and be like us one day. I hope we’ve done them proud; I hope we’ve done the nation proud.”
***
Don’t get me wrong, the Irish women’s national team – and Irish women’s football in general – drives me mad at times, too.
But, sure, isn’t that the case with any true love?
Crushing lows come with intoxicating highs. Fury with fondness. Bad times with good.
The controversies and issues are plentiful. Missing out on Euro 2025 qualification was particularly painful. Bigger picture developmental problems gnaw.
As one Irish political party famously said, ‘A lot done, more to do’.
But strip it right back to the basics. The heartbeat of it all. The why.
Over 45,000 women and girls are registered as playing regular competitive football in Ireland.
There has been a 79 per cent increase in participation since 2022, as per the FAI strategy 2026-29.
Underage girls’ sections at clubs across the country are exploding – in a welcome change to when I and most of the Irish team were growing up.
That is legacy. Bigger than any result.
Unfortunately, at the time of writing, I am no longer one of the 45,000 playing competitively. But I know I won’t stay away long. I can’t.
I’ll always feel connected through my work, but nothing beats playing. Even just kicking a ball, a few keepie-uppies here and there, or hearing that swish of the net.
That feeling that brings you right back to the garden as a kid, dreaming.
Do it for the love of it. In football and in life.
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'I was hooked. I had caught the bug not many people knew existed'
COYGIG: The Irish Women’s National Team
Republic of Ireland 9-0 Montenegro
Uefa Women’s European Championship Qualifier, Tallaght Stadium, 7 June 2016
Ding, ding, ding.
Excited chatter is drowning out the sounds of the Luas tram.
It’s a beautiful summer’s evening in Dublin, and the red line to Tallaght is typically busy. While most of the passengers are commuters with headphones in after a long workday, a large group catches the eye. They are responsible for much of the buzz amidst the humdrum. And the colour, kids and adults alike wearing green.
It heavily suggests that they are going to the same place I am.
The ‘O’Sullivan 10’ jerseys confirm it.
Everything clicks. This is the family of Ireland midfielder Denise O’Sullivan, who will face Montenegro at Tallaght Stadium that evening.
And me? I am an aspiring sports journalist about to cover my first international match.
June 2016, straight out of college. The 42 have bravely sent their new intern, whose mind is racing. Thoughts aren’t just about the job at hand but logistics and procedure and practice. Where is the media entrance? How do I get to the press box? What even is accreditation?
The sight of the O’Sullivans puts me at ease. At least I know I’m going in the right direction!
I don’t remember a whole pile about the game itself. It was a heavy win for Ireland, but, a decade on now, I couldn’t have told you the exact scoreline until I looked it up when writing this essay. Áine O’Gorman and Stephanie Roche both scored hat tricks, though I can’t recall the finer details.
What I do remember is how it made me feel. I loved every minute of it.
As someone who grew up playing, I didn’t know much about women’s football outside my own bubble. This felt like a whole new world opening up before my eyes. A seminal moment, both personally and professionally.
I was hooked. I had caught the bug not many people knew existed. Thankfully, others have since joined me.
Ireland won that dead rubber Euro 2017 qualifier 9-0, a record-equalling victory at the time. Megan Connolly, Louise Quinn and Fiona O’Sullivan joined O’Gorman and Roche on the scoresheet, while rising duo, Denise O’Sullivan and Katie McCabe, came off the bench in the second half.
Just 946 fans watched on from the stands.
I was one of two people in the press box, alongside Aaron Clarke of LetsTalkLOIW.
We’ve shared many more full ones since, in packed stadiums, from Tallaght to Australia.
***
Swish.
Is there a more satisfying sound than a ball hitting the back of the net? Or a more euphoric feeling than scoring a goal?
I have many happy memories from my sporting childhood, but one stands out.
Playing with a boys’ team, respect had to be earned. A goal from a tight angle in a small-sided game one day certainly helped. Again, the finer details are hazy – my age and the result to name but two – but I remember the post-match debrief vividly.
I walked the pitch – ‘field’ is probably more appropriate – with my dad, and he jokingly checked the side-netting for a hole.
‘There’s no way it went straight in! From THERE?’
We tried to reenact it, no doubt with some poetic licence. On the end line, parallel with the post.
He acted like it was the best goal scored in history. We couldn’t wait to get home and tell Mam, and, above all else, bring bragging rights into the next intense garden battle with my little brother.
I was walking on air, 10ft tall. Dreaming.
It’s how it makes you feel.
My local club, Kingscourt Harps AFC in Cavan – a county full of lakes and drumlins in the north-east of Ireland – is where I played most of my football through the years.
From climbing the ranks with the boys to establishing a senior women’s team, there have been no shortage of highs and lows, ups and downs, successes and failures. But the memories made and friendships formed far outweigh all else.
There were stints with regional teams and other opportunities, but nothing quite beats playing with those you grew up with.
While Gaelic football took hold, at times, and injuries conspired against me, I always found a way back to the beloved red and black.
Winning the Leinster LFA Junior Shield Final in 2023, with my family and partner watching on, was one of my proudest sporting achievements.
A few months later, I stood with some of those same teammates and friends amid a sun-drenched Sydney Harbour, holding a flag which read, ‘Kingscourt Harps Ladies On Tour. COYGIG.’
My tour was different to theirs, but here we were on the other side of the world, bound by our love for football. And, most definitely, in a honeymoon phase on the morning of Ireland’s Women’s World Cup debut.
The recollections of 2002 are few and far between, bar the television being rolled into the classroom in primary school, Damien Duff’s bow, and some kerfuffle or other surrounding Roy Keane.
I have been told endless stories about Italia ’90 and USA ’94, and like the rest of my generation, feel like I missed out.
This is our time.
***
4 April 2017 –
The sights and sounds coming out of Liberty Hall are startling.
An extraordinary press conference is underway, with 14 Irish women’s national team players standing together in their fight for fairness.
Legendary captain Emma Byrne is leading the charge as they demand improved treatment and conditions.
The soundbites paint a grim picture: ‘the dirt on the FAI’s shoe’ and ‘fifth-class citizens’ among phrases used.
Shocking, but not surprising, unfortunately. It will resonate with most girls and women in sport.
“What we are fighting for here is equality,” as Byrne says during the press conference. “We are fighting for the future of women’s football.”
That landmark day. Trailblazers like her, and those who came before, are pointed back to time and time again in the years that follow.
Pioneers who always had to travel uphill against the wind.
They walked, so Katie McCabe, Denise O’Sullivan et al. could run.
They put their heads above the parapet for the next generations to reap the rewards.
Liberty Hall paved the way for everything that followed.
***
11 October 2022 –
The final whistle at Hampden Park is met with an orange outburst of emotion. Some players run, arms outstretched. Others drop to the ground. Many embrace in wild jubilation.
McCabe and O’Sullivan try to do all three at once, grasping each other and collapsing together near the sideline, overcome with unbridled joy.
Finally.
A first-ever major tournament. The World Cup.
Wow.
I am shaking in the press box, trying my best to capture the moment between recording on my phone and typing furiously to file a match report for The 42.
Where does one even start?
Amber Barrett’s toe-poke. Courtney Brosnan’s penalty save.
A stunning 1-0 win over Scotland on a night of nerves and drama and magic.
All the disappointments, all the challenges and hardships and near misses, evaporate there and then.
If this is how I feel, a penny for the players’ thoughts.
Those initial moments, that rush of blood, that nirvana, will never be forgotten.
It’s how it makes you feel. It really is.
***
20 July 2023 –
Stadium Australia is heaving with over 75,000 people packed in for a sold-out blockbuster.
A huge press box is full of international journalists, as the co-hosts open the tournament and Ireland make their World Cup debut. I spot Aaron, and the knowing smile speaks a thousand words.
Seven years on from that game against Montenegro, these are very different times. Women’s football is booming worldwide.
The growth has been something to behold. So too, the rollercoaster journey that this Irish team has been on. It has all led to this very moment.
The noise is deafening as Katie McCabe leads her side out onto the biggest stage, emotion threatening to take over as ‘Amhrán na bhFiann’ is belted out and broadcast worldwide.
Goosebumps are fine but no tears, please. There’s a job to be done.
Selfishly, and maybe wrongly, I feel like I have been on this journey too. I sense an inexplicable connection or bond with the team. Even if I wasn’t covering them on the journalistic beat, that would remain the case.
Perhaps it’s younger Emma, who grew up before women’s football hit the mainstream. Maybe it’s because they’re living out my dream. Or it’s just a special group of players who have captured hearts and minds and put our little country on the map against all odds.
I’ve guarded against becoming a fan with a typewriter, always trying to stay true to journalistic values, but I won’t ever deny that love.
And the fact that every high and low is felt in tandem.
Pride is the overwhelming feeling that night in Sydney, but gut-wrenching disappointment soon takes over as Ireland are undone by a second-half penalty.
1-0. So close yet so far.
A few days later, in Perth, I have to stop myself from banging the table in the press box as McCabe scores Ireland’s first World Cup goal and delivers ‘The Moment’ we all yearned for.
An Olimpico, for good measure.
But Canada come from behind to win 2–1 and eliminate Ireland.
Amidst the heartbreak and through tears, McCabe has a simple message: ‘Do it for the love of it.’ It’s one that has stayed with me and is not unique to football. It applies to everything in life.
“For myself and each and every player on the team,” the captain says, “the reason we started playing football was because of the love we have for the game and the smile it brings to our faces; the people you meet along the way, the teammates you have, and creating special moments like this.
“This is our first-ever major tournament and I know for a fact, given those performances we put in, it won’t be our last. I want young girls and young boys in Ireland to dream and look up to us, because it could be them one day, representing their country.”
“It was about creating history, getting here, but it’s also about leaving a legacy behind as well,” she adds. “We’ve given those girls and boys in Ireland the chance to dream and be like us one day. I hope we’ve done them proud; I hope we’ve done the nation proud.”
***
Don’t get me wrong, the Irish women’s national team – and Irish women’s football in general – drives me mad at times, too.
But, sure, isn’t that the case with any true love?
Crushing lows come with intoxicating highs. Fury with fondness. Bad times with good.
The controversies and issues are plentiful. Missing out on Euro 2025 qualification was particularly painful. Bigger picture developmental problems gnaw.
As one Irish political party famously said, ‘A lot done, more to do’.
But strip it right back to the basics. The heartbeat of it all. The why.
Over 45,000 women and girls are registered as playing regular competitive football in Ireland.
There has been a 79 per cent increase in participation since 2022, as per the FAI strategy 2026-29.
Underage girls’ sections at clubs across the country are exploding – in a welcome change to when I and most of the Irish team were growing up.
That is legacy. Bigger than any result.
Unfortunately, at the time of writing, I am no longer one of the 45,000 playing competitively. But I know I won’t stay away long. I can’t.
I’ll always feel connected through my work, but nothing beats playing. Even just kicking a ball, a few keepie-uppies here and there, or hearing that swish of the net.
That feeling that brings you right back to the garden as a kid, dreaming.
Do it for the love of it. In football and in life.
*****
‘Glory Nights & Heartache – The Lives of Irish Soccer Supporters in Fifteen Matches’ is edited by Dermot Bolger, published by New Island, and available now for €17.95.
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