Inside Track: The pints were on Parrott, but little else to celebrate on a night of woe

The town was easily traversed last Thursday evening. I make the journey each evening around 7 o’clock, and whereas it can be slow and sometimes frustrating, this time the passage was clear.

The difference was easily explained. This was a World Cup night, the kind that catches the imagination of even to most lukewarm sportspeople.

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It was a reminder of 1990, 1994, and 2002. But on all of those occasions, it was matches in the finals that were about to be played – this time, it was a qualifier. That didn’t matter, however.

Beat Czechia and the Republic of Ireland would be a step closer to making the trip across the Atlantic in a few months’ time. Then, come this Tuesday evening, there’d be another reason for the country to go green.

I chose a local to take in the action. Had I chosen another, I’d have been toasting Troy Parrot after he put a penalty away.

It’s said that the proprietor of the other watering-hole told customers that if the hero of the win over Hungary scored first, he’d put up a pint for everyone – and, presumably, a short for the non-gulpers.

Our place was heaving when Ireland came up with a second goal, but almost immediately, there was silence, except for a few foul words directed at Ryan Manning.

On a night of numerous kicks from the spot, his needlessly conceded one carried the biggest, well, penalty.

Still, the mood was good at half-time, the score standing at 2-1. “We’d have taken that if offered it before the game,” said an onlooker who’d have been at the game had he been able to get a ticket.

No one in particular was fingered after Czechia grabbed an equaliser, but consensus was the defending could have been better. That it came minutes from full-time, this goal was harder to take than the earlier one.

No goals in extra-time, and, as it gave way to the penalty shoot-out, my thoughts turned to the chaps who were up in the crow’s nest writing for the following morning’s papers.

They would have had an intro in mind when Ireland went two in front. It would, however, have to be scrapped when the 90 minutes ended with the teams on equal terms.

No score in extra-time – the game would have to be decided on penos. By now, I’m not only thinking of the writers, but also those back in the office, the ones tasked with finally putting the story to bed.

There’d be screams from the printers. There are men here who want to get home.

But what can the scribbler do about it? – the game’s not over until the ref blows the whistle for the last time, in this case, when the shoot-out throws up a winner.

The scribe has to wait until the bitter end, first of all, before putting his intro together, and then follow with several paragraphs.

I found myself in this situation a few years ago, but on a much less auspicious occasion. In fact, it doesn’t really deserve to be mentioned, but I’m going to with it anyway.

A Sunday newspaper wanted me to send on so many words from an O’Byrne Cup match with Westmeath in Haggardstown on the Saturday night.

Get it in by 9 o’clock, I was told. That wouldn’t have been a problem had Pat McEneaney got the starters up to the line at the appointed time, 7.30. But he didn’t – it was much later when he threw in the ball.

The call came through at 9 o’clock: “Have you anything for us?”

“No, they’re still playing.”

Shane Lennon had a great game that night, scoring a goal and a whole lot of points, so I opened with that, and then added a few more pars along with the teams, my ear red from what I’m sure was being uttered at base.

It read reasonably well when it appeared in print.

As always, those on the dailies got through their Thursday night work before the extended deadline was reached.

The paper I read the following morning had five stories on the game, and, as expected, all of them dwelt on the mistakes, the heartache, the penalties and a result that couldn’t have been forecast when the score stood at 2-0.

My mind is nimble enough to be able to recall the World Cup qualifier draw at Dalymount almost 70 years ago.

Ireland were playing a star-studded England team that included a number of the famous Busby Babes. Victory for the home team would force a play-off with the Three Lions for a place at the 1958 finals.

It was a live possibility with only minutes remaining, Ireland leading 1-0. But then Johnny Ateyo got his head to a Tom Finney cross. The 45,000 crowd fell into silence.

Last Thursday night’s result was in the same category.