The game must go on

The Last Straw: For those who think sectarianism should have no place in sport, the month so far has been a game of two halves…

The Last Straw: For those who think sectarianism should have no place in sport, the month so far has been a game of two halves. It started well, with news of a Belfast camogie team training at the home of loyalist soccer club Linfield. But then, with the forces of enlightenment one-nil up and apparently cruising, came a dramatic setback in Glasgow.

According to Wednesday's Scotsman newspaper, local BBC bosses decided that, in the event of Pope John Paul dying during last week's televised cup match between Rangers and Dundee United, they could not risk the Rangers' fans' wrath by interrupting the football with a newsflash.

In broadcasting terms, the Pope is a "category A" world leader, and his death would have seen programmes elsewhere in Britain replaced immediately by live broadcasts from Rome. But not in Scotland. Hot on the heels of the Linfield-camogie accord, bigotry and intolerance had struck back for an undeserved equaliser. "Gutted" was a typical reaction in the forces of enlightenment's dressing room.

On the night of the Glasgow game, the Pope was believed to be close to death. On the other hand, Rangers were believed to be close to the Scottish CIS Cup Final. And, as nervous BBC executives wrestled with the potential clash, the Scottish Daily Record reports they considered four different options on a sliding scale of match-intervention.

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Option 1 was the doomsday scenario: going live to the BBC News 24 network, as would happen elsewhere in the UK. A less drastic possibility was cutting to local news anchorwoman Jackie Bird (spooky coincidence, but no relation to Charlie). Option 3 was the minimalist approach: presenter Dougie Donnelly announcing the Pope's demise while the match continued on screen. But even this was considered too risky. So instead the bosses decided to ignore any news from Rome until the game was over.

Grounds for hope about ecumenism in Scottish soccer rest on the fact that the BBC's decision was criticised by Rangers supporters. Or, to be exact, by "sources close to the Glasgow club's supporters", which (I swear) is what the paper wrote. "The average [ Rangers] supporter appreciates the need to relate such a piece of breaking news," these sources were quoted as saying. But I don't know. Sources close to this column have about as much confidence in the average Rangers fan as the person who spoke to the Scotsman obviously did.

Pope John Paul and Linfield have one thing in common: they both appeared at Co Louth venues in the autumn of 1979. But their appearances are remembered for widely different reasons. Older readers may recall that Linfield's European Cup tie against Dundalk was an end-to-end, ding-dong struggle in which two fiercely-committed sides - the gardaí and Linfield supporters - fought each other to a stalemate on the terraces.

Against this backdrop of violence, a football match also broke out, and it too ended in a draw. But the second leg was taken from Windsor Park and played behind closed doors in the Netherlands, where Dundalk won. Two rounds later, the Louth team entertained Celtic for a place in Europe's last eight, needing to win only 1-0 after an epic 3-2 defeat in Glasgow.

There was no fighting in Oriel Park this time. There wasn't room to fight: I was one of an estimated 17,000 fans in the ground, and if we'd all breathed out at the same time, there would have been trouble. In any case, it was probably the friendliest football match in history, between two teams whose supporters sang all the same songs.

It came just after the Pope's visit, and entrepreneurs with leftover tricolours featuring the papal portrait descended on Dundalk, where grateful Celtic fans snapped up the flags, delighted at something that would offend Rangers supporters - twice - at the next old-firm match.

As a flavour of those times, and lest it be assumed that the Pope's message of love and peace had rubbed off locally, I should point out that the chants that night included "18 dead and the Pope lives on", a reference to the IRA's Warrenpoint ambush, sung to the tune of Camptown Races. The game itself never threatened the atmosphere of brotherly sectarianism. Dundalk had a chance in the last minute, but didn't have the bad taste to score. Celtic went through, on a nil-nil.

Had a camogie team found itself in Windsor Park in 1979, the sticks would have been for self-defence. Happily, the Pope has lived to see better times in Ireland, in which a Linfield manager can welcome camogie training at Windsor as, and I quote: "a small way of showing respect and love, and helping your friends". In this spirit, we can only hope the forces of enlightenment will keep their shape. Maybe they can overcome Rangers in extra time.

Frank McNally

Frank McNally

Frank McNally is an Irish Times journalist and chief writer of An Irish Diary