A Cock ’n’ Istanbul Story

THE UGLY scenes concerning Shamrock Rovers and Shelbourne over the transfer of players and bad vibes all round, are symbolic of a recurring syndrome in League of Ireland football.

It happens when a team has a very good season, perhaps even winning the League. The celebrations ensue, everyone gets rat-arsed for the week, the trophy is paraded before the multitudes, and everyone looks forward to drawing Barcelona in the European Cup, humiliating them in front of their fiercely partisan supporters in the Nou Camp stadium.

When the frenzy eventually dies down, the committee meets to formulate a Code of Practice designed to cope with their new-found status as champions of Ireland.

The first item on the agenda is players. A team-sheet is produced, and the names of all the best players are ticked off. Then, the committee must decide the most convenient way of getting rid of them, preferably to their main rivals.

There may be some conflict, as the members argue over whether these are the best players, or whether they might inadvertently be off-loading one of their bad layers. It is important to keep all of the bad players.

There are many ways to accomplish this off-loading procedure, and most of them have been tried. Squabbling over contracts, over expenses, or just generally acting the bollocks. One way or another, it must be done.

Then the committee must address its energies to the pressing task of getting rid of the manager, the ashen-faced supremo whose tactical genius and motivational flair have been lionised in the world’s media, and who has become a folk hero to the young.

Again, there are any amount of ways you can do this, and if you’ve figured it out right, the selling of the good players will dovetail neatly with the constructive dismissal of the supremo.

He might argue, like an eejit, that he wants to buy more good players, not banish the ones he has got to the four corners of the known world. He might want an extra fiver in pay. He might want the chair in the dressing-room lavatory to be fixed.

Inevitably, it will end in tears, with a new manager and a squad of shit players. They will not draw Barcelona, they will draw Ararat Yerevan, nestling in the foothills of the Ural Mountains, and lose a packet in travelling expenses. Needless to say, they will be slaughtered.

If everything goes according to plan, they will be relegated at the end of the season, and ideally, they will file for bankruptcy.

In a small community such as the League of Ireland, such ingenious machinations ensure that everyone will have their day in the sun.

Everyone, that is, except Drogheda United, who, to the best of my knowledge, have never won anything, ever.

For a while during the ’80s, the Shamrock Rovers team managed by Jim McLoughlin were creating dangerous precedents by repeatedly winning the League, cheating the system by retaining the services of their good players and manager.

Emergency measures were called for, and a halt was eventually put to their gallop. Glenmalure Park is now an attractive housing development.

Intriguingly, the G.A.A. is beginning to emulate these shrewd practices. With increasing professionalism, new standards must be established.

Thus, the Derry manager Eamonn Coleman has been dismissed with the last drop of porter barely quaffed from the Sam Maguire Cup. This was a highly-skilled job, as the players are completely opposed to the sacking of Coleman, and he was in America when he heard the news.

This is doing it in style.

Regardless of the style with which The Republic win in Liechtenstein, it will count for nothing. UEFA has decided that goal difference doesn’t matter against the joke nations, which begs the question, what the fuck are they doing there at all?

The likes of Liechtenstein, San Marino and The Faroes are obviously going to lose to all round them, and if they have any function other than that of irritant, it is in the sadistic scoring of dozens of goals against them.

Now, UEFA has abolished this form of target practice, even though it is an acknowledged skill of the game. Instead, goal difference will apply in relation to matches between teams who finish on equal points. The world is becoming an increasingly complex place for poor Jack Charlton.

Manchester United flew in and out of Istanbul at 40,000 miles an hour, pausing awhile to register a result against Galatasaray, and staying out of fights with the police.

The game was described as “absorbing”.

For sure, boring 70,000 deranged, psychiatric Turks into submission is quite an achievement.

Police forces around the world have been studying this new development in riot control. Water-cannon, rubber bullets and tear gas are now becoming obsolete.

The latest technique is to bore the arses off them until they want to go home quietly. If it means holding an “absorbing” football match, then so be it.

Readings from the Education Supplement of The Irish Times are thought to top the agenda as Bill Clinton’s peace-warriors quell the madness of Haiti.