One legacy of the so-called Jack Charlton years in Irish soccer is that the call to play in England, with the rest of the world, proved quite irresistible. Scouts, aided and encouraged by mega-rich clubs, trotted down to the park to sniff out those kids most likely to succeed and, before you could say "offside," many had found a nice little spot in some boot-room or other across the water.
Life as a professional footballer - the ultimate vocation for any youngster. Glamour, glitz and goals. But step out of line, and the vultures descend. All week, we wondered if Lee Bowyer and Jonathon Woodgate, questioned by police in Britain for their alleged part in a racial attack outside a disco, would play in yesterday's Premiership match with Sunderland. An hour before kick-off, Sky Sports's George Gavin, in the dark tunnel under the Stadium of Light, confirmed they would indeed start.
Nobody was really very surprised. In professional football, you put out your best team. That's what every manager would do. That's exactly what David O'Leary did. He didn't have any choice in the matter, and he could hardly be faulted for what did or didn't happen outside a night-club. On Friday night, on Hold The Back Page on Sky Sports, the group of British football writers brought in to sit around a table and give their views on everything fully exonerated O'Leary and predicted the duo would play. No room for sentiment.
On Saturday night, John Giles, on RTE One's The Premiership, raised a far more interesting point of view than any of the scribes had managed to proffer on Sky the previous night. Giles, a tough tackler on the pitch in his own time, but an equally tough disciplinarian who lived by the rules, made the point that clubs are effectively "throwing money", as he put it, at young players. Left hanging in the air, you just wondered if the whole money thing has gone totally crazy. How do they learn to cope with live in general if they get things handed to them so young?
Every time that either Bowyer (frequently) or Woodgate (occasionally) touched the ball in yesterday's televised match, the Sunderland supporters boohed. Sky's team choose to ignore such derision and limited their comments to some inane remarks. "It must have been a difficult few days for Lee Boywer and Jonathon Woodgate and Leeds in general," etc, etc. But, then, you don't really expect Sky to dig too deeply or to alienate people they have helped make into little gods.
Ever since all the thirty-something Leeds United fans have jumped back out of the closet, there has been a growing interest here in Ireland in Leeds and their progress under O'Leary. An Irish manager and a bevvy of young Irish players - Kelly, Harte and McPhail - in the team makes that understandable. But yesterday's game was even more interesting because of the growing Irish connection with Sunderland.
High up in the TV studio, except for a few minutes when he had to walk on to the pitch (crutch included) to fetch his player of the month award, the Irishman most synonymous with Sunderland gave his views. Honest as ever, Niall Quinn had a word for O'Leary. "He's got to come out and SAY that Leeds are going for the title," opined Quinn.
At the break, Quinn sportingly enthused about "the vision" of McPhail whose delicate outside-of-the-boot pass set up Jason Wilcox for Leeds's first goal. Just how long will we have to wait until he gets the chance to do something similar in an Irish jersey, we wondered?
And, yet, the line that stuck in the memory was a throw-away one from commentator Martin Tyler when Sunderland introduced teenager Michael Reddy and told us he was signed for £53,000 from Kilkenny City. "Probably a lot of money to Kilkenny City, but a pittance as far as the Premiership," he said. Which only went to prove that Giles is right to be worried about the amount of money floating around in the current climate.
Domestic football here is unlikely to ever rise to such fanciful notions about itself.
There was a time that RTE seemed jinxed in their efforts to bring us some really good homebrewed soccer. Scoreless draws in high-profile games with some poor crowds and consequently poor atmosphere combined to thwart their best attempts to imitate the wealthier and flashier broadcast hosts from across the water.
But things just seem to get better and better this season and Friday night's package from Tolka Park on Network 2 hammered home the point: you can - and RTE have - do your best by beefing up a programme with stats, analysis and quick, quality replays (all aided by the presence of more cameras at the games) but one thing you can't legislate for are goals. But, on Friday night, the fabulous Baker boys were singing their own tune. Thankfully.
Admittedly, this was the type of match made for television. Two clubs with a rich tradition in the game; a derby element; managers and players who have been around the corner more than once. As Brian Kerr stated in setting the scene, "if they (Shamrock Rovers) lose tonight, they're out of it . . . it's very important for them not to lose".
Eoin Hand had anticipated that the wide men would have a huge influence on the match, and he was proved correct in his assessment. When Richie Baker showed Olympic sprint speed to skin his marker and flash home the Shels' first goal, commentator Jimmy Magee let the player's wizardry speak loudest by keeping his own words to a minimum. "Wonderful pace, terrific skill," opined Magee.
By half-time, Kerr needed no spur from interviewer Darragh Maloney to enthuse about the younger Baker. "He's nothing short of sensational . . . scored a smashing goal, held it up, tackled, passed it. Really sensational," said Mr Soccer. Just over 45 minutes later, Magee and company were enthusing over the other Baker boy, Dessie, who scored as cheeky a goal as you're ever likely to see. "Top class, it's too easy for him," remarked the younger Baker boy of his brother's cheekiness. Three-nil, and some further proof that home-based players can perform too. But it all just left you wondering, though, how long the likes of Richie Baker will stay here, what with all that money being thrown at players across the Irish Sea.
