David Sneyd
reports from the Fortuna Arena, Prague
SO CLOSE. SO brutally, painfully close.
By the end of this penalty shootout, in which the Republic of Ireland had taken control when Caoimhin Kelleher had saved from Mojmir Chytil, the players mostly stood still and shocked and beaten in the centre circle.
Czechia celebrated all around them.
Misses for Finn Azaz and Alan Browne will be haunting, ghosts that will linger and stalk them.
Another World Cup will pass Ireland by, and this will hurt like no other given progress to the play-off final in Dublin on Tuesday was firmly in their grasp.
Slowly, slowly, slowly came the despair, released in a gruesome manner at the end of that penalty shootout.
Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
From the wild, exotic high of Budapest, this was such a feeling of familiar agony. In the three hours before kick-off, a tall man with a long, black puffer jacket and a short woman in a sort of metallic purple coat began handing out fliers to Ireland fans as they gathered before entering the away end of the Fortuna Stadium.
“Sauna Club” read the title, and while some curious members of the 1,024 travelling Green Army happily – perhaps innocently – stuffed the flyers in their pocket, others were far less, er, green.
“What’s this then? Sauna Club, is it? Of course it is, yeah,” one scoffed.
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Those who qualified for a designated away ticket have travelled the world with this team. There isn’t a trick in the book they don’t know. They’ve been there, done it, and now bought the rubber parrot face mask in honour of Troy.
They’ve seen it all.
Until this.
This was another experience altogether. Ireland saw a 2-0 lead snatched from them. A nine-minute spell in the first half led to the away side taking control courtesy of Parrott’s penalty and a comical own goal from Czechia goalkeeper Matej Kovar on 19 and 23 minutes respectively.
The home fans were stunned, their players too, but when Ryan Manning pulled back captain Ladislav Krejci four minutes later, their talisman Patrik Schick made no mistake from the spot.
Heimir Hallgrimsson's side let a 2-0 lead slip in Prague. Ben Brady / INPHO
Ben Brady / INPHO / INPHO
Until that error in judgement by the Ireland left back, everything else about this performance was pretty much perfect. The selection calls Heimir Hallgrímsson made – primarily Jack Taylor in midfield and Chiedozie Ogbene on the right wing – were justified and helping Ireland’s level of control.
That seemed to be the case as the second half wore on. The home side grew desperate; they looked tired and lacking in ideas, until Krejci was allowed a free run into the six-yard box from a free kick near the corner flag.
He rose highest at the near post and his equaliser salvaged their hopes, revitalising their play for a spell until Ireland again took back control for the final minutes in extra time.
Penalties decided things, though, and Browne’s miss (adding to the one in the Euro 2020 play-off shootout against Slovakia) followed by Jan Klimen’s successful effort sent Ireland to despair.
What this week has reminded us, though, as people from the four corners of the country converged on Prague, is that an emotional connection with this team has been rekindled.
It burns bright again, with hope and belief in equal measure for a group of players that now must find even greater resolve to come back from this heartache.
The manner of this defeat will leave scars.
For so many, their first sporting love is the Ireland football team. There have been days when they’ve felt bereft and beaten and struggling to see the light, but nobody ever wants to forget about love.
It is not something that should be easily given up on, even if there can be plenty of reasons to find that easy way out.
It inspires and sustains us, and that has been so very evident around the streets of the Czech capital since Tuesday afternoon.
Nathan Collins dejected at the final whistle. Ben Brady / INPHO
Ben Brady / INPHO / INPHO
It is a corny, easy cliché but these Ireland fans have proven to be a credit to their country. Granted, it’s as if a switch flicks in some whenever a camera appears, and some can sense the glare of the TV lights as if it were a glorious apparition which they must adore in front of.
But this love and this feeling is not false. The pain being felt now is hard and deep.
There is nothing fake about how Ireland have made them feel, but the reality is that Ireland will not be going to the World Cup. To make it worse, there is now a friendly to be played with the losers of the other semi-final, North Macedonia, in Dublin next Tuesday.
Irish funerals often tend to be celebrated more wildly than weddings but the prospect of that fixture feels like having your laces handed back to you when you’ve had your runners robbed.
As the second half of this tense occasion, with so much on the line, unfolded, the seconds were utterly agonising.
The World Cup – well, a play-off final – came closer and closer into view with every minute, yet our sanity and sense of perspective felt further away than ever.
Imagine if Jayson Molumby’s strike on 53 minutes was just an inch or two to the left and didn’t strike the post. Nathan Collins also had an effort lash off the upright in the first half, a precursor to the chaos that followed.
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Collins, Dara O’Shea and Jake O’Brien had been imperious in defence, winning first contact headers to clear and sweeping up the afters, not to mention buying and selling the Czech forwards by ensuring the referee knew about every contact.
But in that moment for the equaliser, such work was undone.
And what else can be said about Troy?
His two finishes from the spot were lethal, as he had been against Hungary. The same side, the same outcome. Another moment sums up his importance. It was around the 55-minute mark and a hopeful ball had been fizzed down the left channel.
Parrott was about 20 to 25 yards behind it and the Czech defender was clear favourite to sweep up and retain possession. Instead, the Ireland striker sprinted like a man possessed. His face contorted and his teeth gnashing, he took deep breaths and forced the ball out for an Ireland throw.
Relief for those behind him, selfless and leading by example. The same can be said of the superb Ogbene, who has effectively been placed in cold storage by Sheffield United over the last few months but delivered a red-hot performance.
But Ireland were the ones burned at the end, and from the glorious, thrilling joy of Budapest last November, March in Prague will be remembered only for heartache.
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Ireland feel a brutal World Cup pain with ghosts that will stalk and linger
SO CLOSE. SO brutally, painfully close.
By the end of this penalty shootout, in which the Republic of Ireland had taken control when Caoimhin Kelleher had saved from Mojmir Chytil, the players mostly stood still and shocked and beaten in the centre circle.
Czechia celebrated all around them.
Misses for Finn Azaz and Alan Browne will be haunting, ghosts that will linger and stalk them.
Another World Cup will pass Ireland by, and this will hurt like no other given progress to the play-off final in Dublin on Tuesday was firmly in their grasp.
Slowly, slowly, slowly came the despair, released in a gruesome manner at the end of that penalty shootout.
From the wild, exotic high of Budapest, this was such a feeling of familiar agony. In the three hours before kick-off, a tall man with a long, black puffer jacket and a short woman in a sort of metallic purple coat began handing out fliers to Ireland fans as they gathered before entering the away end of the Fortuna Stadium.
“Sauna Club” read the title, and while some curious members of the 1,024 travelling Green Army happily – perhaps innocently – stuffed the flyers in their pocket, others were far less, er, green.
“What’s this then? Sauna Club, is it? Of course it is, yeah,” one scoffed.
Those who qualified for a designated away ticket have travelled the world with this team. There isn’t a trick in the book they don’t know. They’ve been there, done it, and now bought the rubber parrot face mask in honour of Troy.
They’ve seen it all.
Until this.
This was another experience altogether. Ireland saw a 2-0 lead snatched from them. A nine-minute spell in the first half led to the away side taking control courtesy of Parrott’s penalty and a comical own goal from Czechia goalkeeper Matej Kovar on 19 and 23 minutes respectively.
The home fans were stunned, their players too, but when Ryan Manning pulled back captain Ladislav Krejci four minutes later, their talisman Patrik Schick made no mistake from the spot.
Until that error in judgement by the Ireland left back, everything else about this performance was pretty much perfect. The selection calls Heimir Hallgrímsson made – primarily Jack Taylor in midfield and Chiedozie Ogbene on the right wing – were justified and helping Ireland’s level of control.
That seemed to be the case as the second half wore on. The home side grew desperate; they looked tired and lacking in ideas, until Krejci was allowed a free run into the six-yard box from a free kick near the corner flag.
He rose highest at the near post and his equaliser salvaged their hopes, revitalising their play for a spell until Ireland again took back control for the final minutes in extra time.
Penalties decided things, though, and Browne’s miss (adding to the one in the Euro 2020 play-off shootout against Slovakia) followed by Jan Klimen’s successful effort sent Ireland to despair.
What this week has reminded us, though, as people from the four corners of the country converged on Prague, is that an emotional connection with this team has been rekindled.
It burns bright again, with hope and belief in equal measure for a group of players that now must find even greater resolve to come back from this heartache.
The manner of this defeat will leave scars.
For so many, their first sporting love is the Ireland football team. There have been days when they’ve felt bereft and beaten and struggling to see the light, but nobody ever wants to forget about love.
It is not something that should be easily given up on, even if there can be plenty of reasons to find that easy way out.
It inspires and sustains us, and that has been so very evident around the streets of the Czech capital since Tuesday afternoon.
It is a corny, easy cliché but these Ireland fans have proven to be a credit to their country. Granted, it’s as if a switch flicks in some whenever a camera appears, and some can sense the glare of the TV lights as if it were a glorious apparition which they must adore in front of.
But this love and this feeling is not false. The pain being felt now is hard and deep.
There is nothing fake about how Ireland have made them feel, but the reality is that Ireland will not be going to the World Cup. To make it worse, there is now a friendly to be played with the losers of the other semi-final, North Macedonia, in Dublin next Tuesday.
Irish funerals often tend to be celebrated more wildly than weddings but the prospect of that fixture feels like having your laces handed back to you when you’ve had your runners robbed.
As the second half of this tense occasion, with so much on the line, unfolded, the seconds were utterly agonising.
The World Cup – well, a play-off final – came closer and closer into view with every minute, yet our sanity and sense of perspective felt further away than ever.
Imagine if Jayson Molumby’s strike on 53 minutes was just an inch or two to the left and didn’t strike the post. Nathan Collins also had an effort lash off the upright in the first half, a precursor to the chaos that followed.
Collins, Dara O’Shea and Jake O’Brien had been imperious in defence, winning first contact headers to clear and sweeping up the afters, not to mention buying and selling the Czech forwards by ensuring the referee knew about every contact.
But in that moment for the equaliser, such work was undone.
And what else can be said about Troy?
His two finishes from the spot were lethal, as he had been against Hungary. The same side, the same outcome. Another moment sums up his importance. It was around the 55-minute mark and a hopeful ball had been fizzed down the left channel.
Parrott was about 20 to 25 yards behind it and the Czech defender was clear favourite to sweep up and retain possession. Instead, the Ireland striker sprinted like a man possessed. His face contorted and his teeth gnashing, he took deep breaths and forced the ball out for an Ireland throw.
Relief for those behind him, selfless and leading by example. The same can be said of the superb Ogbene, who has effectively been placed in cold storage by Sheffield United over the last few months but delivered a red-hot performance.
But Ireland were the ones burned at the end, and from the glorious, thrilling joy of Budapest last November, March in Prague will be remembered only for heartache.
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