30 YEARS ON from A Night in November, the one that inspired the monodrama by the same name by Marie Jones, it’s worth considering the context.
The Republic of Ireland women’s national team were coming up the road to play their final Nations League game, the 14th game of a never-ending season.
In Belfast. Against Northern Ireland. The North. The six counties. Like it or not, there is a political and cultural context that players wouldn’t give a fig about, but that doesn’t diminish the significance here.
However. The central character in the aforementioned play was Kenneth Norman McCallister. A dole clerk, he was immensely proud of the kind of low-level antagonism he could inflict on Catholics with the power his job gifted him.
Indeed, an amusing aside to the plot was the satisfaction he derived from being accepted into the local prestigious golf club ahead of his Catholic boss.
Sounds petty? Oh boy. Where were you while we were getting high?
Well, the twist came when Kenneth attended the famous 1993 World Cup qualifier between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. The scenes that night and the interactions he had forced him to question everything.
By the following summer, he was in New York, cheering on the Republic at the World Cup. The feelgood payoff line to wrap it all up was, ‘I am a free man, I am a Protestant man, I am an Irish man!’
Not all share Kenneth’s crisis of identity. In the north, the subtle cues blend with the obvious. That’s why the playing of Amhrán na bhFiann before this fixture was hugely historic. Ever since the split of the FAI from the Belfast–dominated Irish Football Association, the anthem of the Republic had never been played in Windsor Park.
It’s one of those curiosities that you couldn’t quite believe until it comes true, but there we are. In any event, only a smattering of these players were even alive at the time.
Needless to say, it passed off peacefully. But this wasn’t ever going to be contentious, like an Orange Parade going along the nearby Lower Ormeau Road.
What does it prove? More than you’d think.
But cast your mind back to that night in October last year when the women’s team had achieved their qualification for the World Cup. ‘The Celtic Symphony’ got a dressing-room rendition that all would love to regret.
The tragedy of it was that it overshadowed a fine win over Scotland and Amber Barrett’s fine tribute afterwards to the victims of the Creeslough disaster when 10 people lost their lives in an explosion at a petrol station.
Initial revulsion was soon replaced by an indignation at the line of questioning that Rob Wotton pursued with Chloe Mustaki in a Sky Sports interview.
Absentee politicians were only delighted to keep the focus on the incident but in time it was set in the natural context: a group of sportspeople giddy and high on their achievement, not paying too much attention to consequences.
Happened before. Will happen again.
But instead of ‘Ooh Ah Up The Ra’, the familiar, clever banner of ‘Ooh Ah Up The Mná’ was behind the goals here for the first half as first Lucy Quinn, then Heather Payne profiting from a Quinn cross to the back stick within a minute of each other, helped ease any potential stress.
Northern Ireland still had skin in the game and a couple of reducers were delivered in the first half to Katie McCabe.
God Save The King might be the official anthem of the Northern Ireland team but in reality, it has been ‘Sweet Caroline’ for Ulster sport stars for years.
As it was cranked up pre game, the injured Rachel Furness attempted to get the press box joining in and as the game progressed, her emotions and throat got more raw.
After Kyra Carusa and then a superb McCabe goal switched the game to exhibition territory, there was a chance to take in the overall scenery.
Fans of each side sat among each other. Chants for the home team would sporadically spring up again. As Louise Quinn’s bullet header from a Megan Connolly corner sailed beyond the reach of Maddison Harvey Clifford, you were left wondering just how little ego Eileen Gleason must have to not want more of this?
Here’s the question to ponder though: would a game between the two representative teams of men have passed off in such a mood of relaxed conviviality?
There was a time not that long ago when a settled Stormont Government made it feel that all sides and shades had reached a time when all were very happy in their own reality.
If there was a high point, it was during the 2016 Euros. Both sets of supporters were genuinely glad to see the progress of each other. Relations between them impressed the locals so much that The Medal of the City of Paris was presented to both sets of supporters for their ‘exemplary behaviour and sportsmanship’.
When Robbie Brady’s header hit the net and the Republic beat Italy, then-First Minister Arlene Foster Tweeted, ‘Well done Rep of Ireland. My goodness what a result!’
Deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness attended the Northern Ireland game against Germany.
It was mainly surface stuff, but it mattered then, and such gestures now would still matter.
But it couldn’t happen. Do we even need to mention James McClean?
The momentum of then has been replaced with posturing and ego. Stormont does not sit ever since the DUP were ousted as the largest party. Figleaf excuses are offered. Few people buy it.
Northern Ireland’s intransigence has been punished by the Tory government cutting funding. Ordinary people suffer. Mental ghettoes are reinforced.
So, no. It appears unlikely that a men’s international would be played in such spirit. All we can do for now is let the women show us the way.
