A BANNER IN the Blackrock End of Páirc Uí Chaoimh immediately caught the eye.
‘Anois An tAm.’
The Ireland WNT Supporters Club had added some colour and character to the empty grey stand, and among flags and flares, the message was clear last Friday night.
Now is the time.
As Kyra Carusa’s early opener rolled into the goal before it in slow motion, Ireland were daring to dream. She wheeled away with arms outstretched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, before pounding her chest and letting out a roar. COME ON.
Abbie Larkin leapt into her arms as Carusa was enveloped by an onslaught of Irish bodies; Katie McCabe executed the perfect knee slide amidst the ecstasy.
The incessant rain added to the scene – and this was just the beginning of another special night on Leeside.
Kyra Carusa celebrates scoring. Ben Brady / INPHO
Ben Brady / INPHO / INPHO
There were orange waves and green counter punches – and superb Courtney Brosnan saves – for the guts of 50 minutes either side of half-time, before a few minutes of madness.
Dutch substitute Jackie Groenen hit the deck in the middle of a sweeping move, Aoife Mannion the guilty party. There followed a chorus of boos from the 12,500 fans, captain Dominique Janssen slotting home from the penalty spot, and the comeback inevitably on.
But no.
Fifty-nine seconds later, Larkin was sliding into the corner at the Blackrock End after lifting home, turning from provider to scorer. She rose to her feet and let loose a primal scream, before staring down the RTÉ TV camera and unleashing another COME ON.
The same message was sent to the crowd as Larkin broke free from her teammates, purple bibs from the bench having joined the party. The Páirc was rocking.
Less than 10 minutes later, it was silenced again. Another Dutch sub, Victoria Pelova, squeezed through a gap and made it 2-2.
Stick or twist? Settle or gamble? Carla Ward opted for the latter, not content with just a World Cup play-off, and targeting historic – and improbable – automatic qualification. She emptied her bench of attacking threat and changed shape, leaving the rest to the Gods in a grandstand finish.
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Cometh the hour, cometh the woman. Amber Barrett and That Big Toe.
The super-sub who had sent Ireland to their first World Cup moved them ever closer to their second with a dramatic 90th-minute winner.
— Ireland Football ⚽️🇮🇪 (@IrelandFootball) June 5, 2026
There were reminders of her previous sporting lives as she embraced the roar; a shoulder off the back post in a nod to her Gaelic football days, a dash to the corner having been a talented sprinter in childhood, and another knee slide in a chaotic flurry of emotion.
Four of her teammates slid in after her, the pile-on inevitable in biblical rain. A drenched Ward hugged her staff, but stopped herself to bark on instructions for injury time.
Fingernails were chewed off by the time Leanne Kiernan walked for a second yellow card, but hands could be dropped from mouths when the final whistle arrived.
For fans and players it will have felt like an eternity, yet mere seconds for journalists furiously typing in the press box (poor us). The same goes for the Páirc Uí Chaoimh grounds staff, who immediately switched to Munster hurling final mode.
The haze of green and orange agony and ecstasy carried from the pitch to the bowels of the stadium; a famous win exalted, a shock defeat bemoaned.
The greatest result in the history of the Irish women’s team? Probably. But no time for debate. Onto France, winner takes all.
Ward’s parting words – “Let’s fucking go” – were ringing in The 42′s ears driving back through Cork city and onto the M8, no let-up from the rain as the roads began to flood on a wild journey home.
After a 3am arrival on Saturday morning, Sunday’s wake-up call was at the same time 24 hours later (again, poor us) for the trip to Grenoble, via Lyon.
A six-hour flight delay at Dublin Airport (world’s smallest violin) wasn’t the ideal start, but a Paddy Power billboard in Terminal 2 provided some comedic relief.
Emma Duffy / The 42.
Emma Duffy / The 42. / The 42.
*****
Grenoble is known as the Capital of the Alps, a picturesque city at the foot of mountains where the Drac and Isère rivers meet. It is lively in places, quiet in others; walkable and scenic.
A base for winter sports, there are endless parks and museums to explore on the ground, while cable cars known as ‘Les Bulles’ – bubbles in English – connect it to the summit of La Bastille hill. The views from the medieval fortress are beautiful.
The weather was a welcome change to what felt like a February’s night in Cork, the mercury nearing 30 degrees as Ireland trained in searing sun on Monday afternoon.
“Nothing to lose and everything to gain” had been the dispatch from Ward, who added that beating France to automatic World Cup qualification would be “one of the biggest stories in world football”.
Unfortunately, that didn’t materialise at Stade des Alpes, the stunning 20,000-capacity stadium that the city’s Ligue 2 football and Pro D2 rugby teams share.
Melvine Malard broke Irish hearts once more, her 40th-minute wonder-goal ultimately settling the score. The French attacking carrousel had been moving through the gears, and the Manchester United star struck the killer blow with a moment of individual magic.
Lacklustre Irish defending from a quick corner opened the door, the ball bouncing in the box and ricocheting off Malard’s head. She may not have known much about it initially, but she watched it all the way as it dropped from the sky, before unleashing a spectacular acrobatic effort, which cannoned off the underside of the crossbar and nestled in the back of the net.
The 7,500-odd home fans erupted, vigorously waving French flags, as the stadium announcer exclaimed, ‘MELVINE’ to which they replied ‘MALARD’ over and over and over.
They groaned and whistled as Thiniba Samoura was given her marching orders for a jersey pull on Emily Murphy in the 72nd minute, the small but vocal pocket of Irish fans embracing the lifeline.
Larkin missed a golden opportunity shortly afterwards; her instant reaction to throw her hands to her head, as Constance Picaud stepped up once more.
Abbie Larkin reacts to a missed chance. Ben Brady / INPHO
Ben Brady / INPHO / INPHO
Ireland had other chances – while Caitlin Hayes was outstanding at the back – but Ward was more conservative here. Barrett and Saoirse Noonan being held until the 88th minute raised eyebrows, with Larkin and the impactful Jess Ziu introduced earlier. 1-0 was how it would finish.
A cacophony of blue, white, and red fireworks congratulated France on automatic qualification for next summer’s tournament in Brazil; Ireland were left disappointed in a hue of smoke.
It will lift as endless positives are taken from the group campaign, and attention turns to the play-offs later this year.
That Ireland are gutted to miss out on direct qualification at the hands of big hitters France shows the progress made.
Anois An tAm.
Perhaps fittingly, the journey home wasn’t direct for The 42. We jumped on the wrong Lyon-bound train at Grenoble Station, and had to take the scenic route.
Here’s to more of that in October, as the Road to Brazil continues.
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From Cork to Grenoble: A whirlwind few days on Ireland's World Cup crusade
A BANNER IN the Blackrock End of Páirc Uí Chaoimh immediately caught the eye.
‘Anois An tAm.’
The Ireland WNT Supporters Club had added some colour and character to the empty grey stand, and among flags and flares, the message was clear last Friday night.
Now is the time.
As Kyra Carusa’s early opener rolled into the goal before it in slow motion, Ireland were daring to dream. She wheeled away with arms outstretched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, before pounding her chest and letting out a roar. COME ON.
Abbie Larkin leapt into her arms as Carusa was enveloped by an onslaught of Irish bodies; Katie McCabe executed the perfect knee slide amidst the ecstasy.
The incessant rain added to the scene – and this was just the beginning of another special night on Leeside.
There were orange waves and green counter punches – and superb Courtney Brosnan saves – for the guts of 50 minutes either side of half-time, before a few minutes of madness.
Dutch substitute Jackie Groenen hit the deck in the middle of a sweeping move, Aoife Mannion the guilty party. There followed a chorus of boos from the 12,500 fans, captain Dominique Janssen slotting home from the penalty spot, and the comeback inevitably on.
But no.
Fifty-nine seconds later, Larkin was sliding into the corner at the Blackrock End after lifting home, turning from provider to scorer. She rose to her feet and let loose a primal scream, before staring down the RTÉ TV camera and unleashing another COME ON.
The same message was sent to the crowd as Larkin broke free from her teammates, purple bibs from the bench having joined the party. The Páirc was rocking.
Less than 10 minutes later, it was silenced again. Another Dutch sub, Victoria Pelova, squeezed through a gap and made it 2-2.
Stick or twist? Settle or gamble? Carla Ward opted for the latter, not content with just a World Cup play-off, and targeting historic – and improbable – automatic qualification. She emptied her bench of attacking threat and changed shape, leaving the rest to the Gods in a grandstand finish.
Cometh the hour, cometh the woman. Amber Barrett and That Big Toe.
The super-sub who had sent Ireland to their first World Cup moved them ever closer to their second with a dramatic 90th-minute winner.
There were reminders of her previous sporting lives as she embraced the roar; a shoulder off the back post in a nod to her Gaelic football days, a dash to the corner having been a talented sprinter in childhood, and another knee slide in a chaotic flurry of emotion.
Four of her teammates slid in after her, the pile-on inevitable in biblical rain. A drenched Ward hugged her staff, but stopped herself to bark on instructions for injury time.
Fingernails were chewed off by the time Leanne Kiernan walked for a second yellow card, but hands could be dropped from mouths when the final whistle arrived.
For fans and players it will have felt like an eternity, yet mere seconds for journalists furiously typing in the press box (poor us). The same goes for the Páirc Uí Chaoimh grounds staff, who immediately switched to Munster hurling final mode.
The haze of green and orange agony and ecstasy carried from the pitch to the bowels of the stadium; a famous win exalted, a shock defeat bemoaned.
The greatest result in the history of the Irish women’s team? Probably. But no time for debate. Onto France, winner takes all.
Ward’s parting words – “Let’s fucking go” – were ringing in The 42′s ears driving back through Cork city and onto the M8, no let-up from the rain as the roads began to flood on a wild journey home.
After a 3am arrival on Saturday morning, Sunday’s wake-up call was at the same time 24 hours later (again, poor us) for the trip to Grenoble, via Lyon.
A six-hour flight delay at Dublin Airport (world’s smallest violin) wasn’t the ideal start, but a Paddy Power billboard in Terminal 2 provided some comedic relief.
*****
Grenoble is known as the Capital of the Alps, a picturesque city at the foot of mountains where the Drac and Isère rivers meet. It is lively in places, quiet in others; walkable and scenic.
A base for winter sports, there are endless parks and museums to explore on the ground, while cable cars known as ‘Les Bulles’ – bubbles in English – connect it to the summit of La Bastille hill. The views from the medieval fortress are beautiful.
The weather was a welcome change to what felt like a February’s night in Cork, the mercury nearing 30 degrees as Ireland trained in searing sun on Monday afternoon.
“Nothing to lose and everything to gain” had been the dispatch from Ward, who added that beating France to automatic World Cup qualification would be “one of the biggest stories in world football”.
Unfortunately, that didn’t materialise at Stade des Alpes, the stunning 20,000-capacity stadium that the city’s Ligue 2 football and Pro D2 rugby teams share.
Melvine Malard broke Irish hearts once more, her 40th-minute wonder-goal ultimately settling the score. The French attacking carrousel had been moving through the gears, and the Manchester United star struck the killer blow with a moment of individual magic.
Lacklustre Irish defending from a quick corner opened the door, the ball bouncing in the box and ricocheting off Malard’s head. She may not have known much about it initially, but she watched it all the way as it dropped from the sky, before unleashing a spectacular acrobatic effort, which cannoned off the underside of the crossbar and nestled in the back of the net.
The 7,500-odd home fans erupted, vigorously waving French flags, as the stadium announcer exclaimed, ‘MELVINE’ to which they replied ‘MALARD’ over and over and over.
They groaned and whistled as Thiniba Samoura was given her marching orders for a jersey pull on Emily Murphy in the 72nd minute, the small but vocal pocket of Irish fans embracing the lifeline.
Larkin missed a golden opportunity shortly afterwards; her instant reaction to throw her hands to her head, as Constance Picaud stepped up once more.
Ireland had other chances – while Caitlin Hayes was outstanding at the back – but Ward was more conservative here. Barrett and Saoirse Noonan being held until the 88th minute raised eyebrows, with Larkin and the impactful Jess Ziu introduced earlier. 1-0 was how it would finish.
A cacophony of blue, white, and red fireworks congratulated France on automatic qualification for next summer’s tournament in Brazil; Ireland were left disappointed in a hue of smoke.
It will lift as endless positives are taken from the group campaign, and attention turns to the play-offs later this year.
That Ireland are gutted to miss out on direct qualification at the hands of big hitters France shows the progress made.
Anois An tAm.
Perhaps fittingly, the journey home wasn’t direct for The 42. We jumped on the wrong Lyon-bound train at Grenoble Station, and had to take the scenic route.
Here’s to more of that in October, as the Road to Brazil continues.
To embed this post, copy the code below on your site
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