Hors de CombatThe expression on Brian Ashton's face when he realised his team had beaten France and reached the final of the World Cup reminded me of Jack Charlton's face when David O'Leary turned around, arms raised having slotted that penalty against Romania in Italia '90.
A trance-like, flabbergasted state, conscious that something wasn't quite right, but desperate for his face to remain emotion-free in case he laughed out loud and prompted reality to intervene and snatch the dream away. Ashton recently referred to the man who invented the game as "The lad, eh, Ellis", so perhaps the similarities between the pair run even deeper than I'd thought.
However surprising England's achievement in reaching the final is to the "experts", the England coach seems equally baffled. Caps off to him for admitting he's not sure how they got there; it was particularly refreshing to see in this age of post-win self-projection, as it must have been tempting to be creative with the truth.
Mind you, it's probably the only place you'd find England being creative. The consensus seems to be that you have to admire them for achieving it, which might be a valid point, but you don't have to admire them for how they've achieved it. I'm not saying they're negative, but it wouldn't surprise me if they go into the final playing for a draw, extra-time and penalties.
It was a pretty depressing encounter all told. France's traditional strengths of risk, daring and spontaneity were strangled out of them by a maddeningly cautious coach and replaced by a ponderous and predictable gameplan which was poorly executed.
England, on the other hand, continued to play with the sophistication of school-yard bullies, with the fat boys keeping the ball for themselves and only giving it to the small boys if they agreed to kick it, ie, fat boys have ball in rolling maul, opposition fat boys fall on the ground, ball goes to small boy who kicks it into touch or drop kicks it between the sticks. Not sure William Webb Ellis - he who supposedly picked it up and ran with it for the first time - would be so willing to put his name to a trophy attained in such a manner.
But I'm sure Brian Ashton couldn't give a cobblers about "The lad, eh, Ellis" now that England are in Neverland. It says it all that one is left hoping cynical South Africa lift the cup that bears his name.
Apart from all that, it was a great match!
The annoyance of France's exit is compounded by the fact that, having had a long association with supporting lost causes, I decided to back a team who were capable of winning it. I should add that, as a Leeds United and Ireland supporter, these are testing times. It's a fair reflection on their respective states that when you look at Irish soccer, Irish rugby and Leeds, the latter - mid-table in League One (Division Three to you and me) - represent the best hope of lifting the spirits or a trophy.
Whatever about the complex psychology of the Irish dealing with our own success, we find it infinitely more difficult to deal with England's. The reaction in Ireland to any English triumph is always compelling. The common tactic is to pretend it doesn't bother us that the team we thrashed eight months ago could become world champions again. Then there are those who simply spit out "Sure fair play to them" through fixed grins, desperate to conceal the volcanic rage which bubbles beneath.
It's not that I'm anti-English - I quite like Chris de Burgh - but some of us make a greater effort to conceal our feelings than others. My taxi driver from the airport recently was not what you'd call a diplomat.
"I hate the English, I can't stand them."
What, all of them?
"All the ones I know. Ignorant, you know?"
What soccer team do you support?
"Man Utd."
Do you like their English players?
"Ah, that's different. (Shouting out the window) Indicate will ya? Ya ***kin' eejit."
It was a long trip.
As we look forward to Saturday's big prize we can only ponder how different it all could've been had Ireland performed even close to their potential. Instead, we'll watch the biggest game in the sport where the sole Irish representation will be the ref.
Still it's only a blip. The blip started in Argentina when we lost the two summer Tests. The blip continued in our warm-up games when we lost to Scotland, burgled Italy, and a further blip was narrowly avoided when we nearly lost our captain in a "friendly" blip against Bayonne. The blip then moved on to our World Cup campaign, where we didn't perform against Namibia and almost lost to Georgia. The blip made its way to Paris where we did lose to France and were soundly beaten by Argentina. It's believed the blip may still be on the loose.
Since England became world champs in 2003, Ireland have beaten them every time they've played them and - harsh as it sounds - if they win on Saturday Ireland could beat them for the next four years and they wouldn't care. Suffice it to say, blip off!
