The Dome of Dreams

Whoever builds it, we are in for a treat when the new national soccer stadium opens. It will be along the lines of the SkyDome complex in Toronto, home of the Blue Jays baseball team—truly "complex" is the operative word. The SkyDome is so fantastic that people go there for a good time when there is nothing on—neither games nor rock concerts nor religious meetings. It is a tourist attraction and leisure centre all by itself. It houses a hotel for all seasons. Our own yoke, albeit smaller in scale, will mean that the days of farting, belching and absorbing rain, while watching action on the pitch, are done.

The retractable roof is one of the technological features to watch. In Toronto it takes 20 minutes to roll back over eight acres of turf and terrace. Fans go early to take in the sight, ooohing and ahhing as it slides back to reveal sun, moon or stars, or closes to protect from falling snow. The video-replay screen is huge, to compensate for the dwarf-like stature of players down below on the faraway pitch.

Long before the roof rolls back and the players run onto the field, fans are already in a party atmosphere. The SkyDome offers an enormous variety of entertainment in the rooms and halls built into alcoves in the seating, all of which afford a view of the field of dreams. There are classy restaurants and fast-food joints, information technology playrooms where you can call up everything you ever wanted to know about the sport of your choice, halls of fame where you can gaze upon the features and memorabilia of the Gods, movie theatres where you can watch the games of yesteryear. A day wouldn't be long enough in SkyDome to just catch up on sport. A fan could spend a luxurious lifetime there—instead of slumping at home in front of the TV sports channel, which is what many of them do anyway.

The upmarket restaurants allow you to drink and eat like royalty on the terrace overlooking the pitch, the frankfurter joints allow you to munch and watch like you were standing in a crowd in Dalymount, the Planet Hollywood provides rock 'n' roll and sport in one mega-package. There's hardly any need to go and sit in the stands, though 45,000 people regularly insist on making that ultimate sacrifice. Next night they're just as likely to come back for a concert or a Billy Graham revival rally. Fianna Fáil are just going to love the new football stadium. Tribunals of inquiry could take up the slack in it.

(Since the government and the FAI are fighting over who gets to build and run the joint, and developers will want a slice of the lucrative action, it is a fair bet that there will be a run on brown paper envelopes between now and the great opening, and a further Tribunal run to trace the provenance and destination of the envelopes.)

No matter. The spin-off for tourism will be enormous—not just foreign tourists but people coming up from the country to enjoy the mighty yoke. With rugby going the way it is in the North—on a roll—the new stadium will become a focus for cross-border enterprise, with Unionists being lured down for a good time.

Sonia will run there, U2 will play there, pro-lifers will yell there, the Socialist Workers Movement will have to mount a full-time picket there to denounce the comings and goings of fat-cats and reactionaries. Corporate Ireland will buy boxes there, the rest of us will queue for tickets there, small children will be brought there as an alternative to a wet day on Sandymount Strand.

If it is anything at all like the SkyDome, it will be the leisure mecca of Ireland. It is the future and it works.