The grouches had been bah humbugging since programme one. Every sport in the country, bar football, rugby and golf, was left livid. A debate raged over the difference between ‘great’ and ‘popular’. Should actually winning something outweigh a moment that prompted the most sustained singing of Ole Ole Ole Ole and the highest consumption of beer?
Meanwhile, everyone from Barry McGuigan to Arkle’s descendants, from Clare hurling fans to snooker diehards, from Seamus Darby’s family to Tour de France devotees were, most likely, boycotting the finale.
But apart from that, Ireland’s Greatest Sporting Moment was controversy-free and went without a hitch.
We were, then, down to the final four contenders, only one of the moments occurring this century - Pádraig Harrington’s first British Open triumph. Which meant viewers under the 30-ish mark might as well have been looking at Pathé footage of World War II when Munster, Ray Houghton and Packie/Dave popped up on their screens.
RTE’s decision to use the first past the post electoral system, rather than proportional representation, meant that there was a severe danger of the football vote being split between Ray Houghton and Packie Bonner/Dave O’Leary, allowing rugby or golf to sneak in. But when Evanne Ní Chuilinn gave us news of the earliest voting it was evident that there were no flies on the football community, the bulk of them opting for Packie/Dave, who led handsomely.
Ray, though, was up first on the hustings, so had the earliest chance to appeal to the voters, he and his running mate Ronnie Whelan arriving in the studio to the strains of Christy Moore’s Joxer. It was the summer of ’88 all over again.
And it was, of course, in the year of eighty-eight, in the lovely month of June, that Ray put the ball in the English net, the copious replays of the moment reminding us that the aftermath of the goal featured what was then the most common sight in sport, Tony Adams putting his arm up to appeal for offside.
Next on the couch with Des Cahill were Tony Ward and Jimmy Bowen who were canvassing for Munster beating the All Blacks, the only one of the final four that wasn’t actually live on our tellies. Back then we were lucky if the news was live.
Prickly contention
Evanne raised the prickly contention that because it was a midweek game and there was a possibility that the All Blacks might have been, well, a bit chilled going in to the fixture, that its greatness was undermined. Jimmy insisted, though, that “it’s not in their DNA” to take games lightly. ‘Alone It Stands’, then, was their verdict on the victory’s place among the four candidates.
Next, Pádraig . By the time he was done, all you could conclude was that if he was to run for áras an Uachtaráin, he’d crush anyone standing in his way, his manifesto so convincing he had us raucously Ole-Ole-ing while waving a five iron in the air, rather than an inflatable banana. And, by the by, he was the only man on our ballot paper who looks younger now than when he did his memorable thing.
When he began reliving his final round at Carnoustie, you had a sense he wouldn’t be done by next July, when the 2018 tournament gets under way at the same venue. “I had 238 yards to the flag, in to a cross wind, out of bounds left, out of bounds long, water short ….”, his eyes narrowing like he was taking on the 18th all over again. By now you wanted Des to intervene and - spoiler alert - tell Pádraig he won, so all was good.
Next, Packie/Dave. Those born between, roughly, 1993 and 1996 will only remember Bill O’Herlihy’s immortal line - “ALF has been deferred” - after that Italia 90 penalty shoot-out, possibly leaving them with a lingering rage against all things football, when all they wanted to know was if extraterrestrial ALF had eaten the Tanners’ cat Lucky. (Happily, he didn’t).
Des asked Packie if he had prepared for penalties. He had, he said, as best he could, but reminded us that it wasn’t so easy back then to research Romania’s spot-kickers. Those born between, roughly, 1993 and 1996, would wonder why on earth he didn’t use YouTube, unaware, perhaps, that it hasn’t been around forever, its birth only occurring in 2005.
Speaking of the pitter patter of tiny feet. “I was conceived after your penalty,” one admirer told Dave after bumping in to him in recent times. Davo apologised for bringing sex in to the discussion, but it was after the watershed, so Ireland’s Greatest Sporting Birds and Bees Moment shouldn’t have offended anyone.
Before the final count, time for a chat with Sonia O’Sullivan, Donal Lenihan, Eamon Dunphy and the incomparable Ted Walsh.
Did Ted think we had the right final four? “No.” But. “For me, one of the great moments is right now, sitting next door to Sonia O’Sullivan - bar I had Arkle on this side of me,” he said, tapping the right side of the couch. Arkle, God rest him, died in May 1970, so there was some sense of relief that he wasn’t sitting beside Ted.
The panel’s verdict. Eamon summed up most of their feelings on the matter:
“My head says Pádraig , my heart says the penalty shoot-out.”
Ted: “Have you got a heart?”
The result? Packie/Dave. By a single per cent from Padraig.
“Ole, ole, ole, ole …..,” the audience bellowed.
Not quite Genoa all over again, but we’ll take what we can get. A happy day relived. Bah humbug to the grouches.
