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For long enough it didn’t look that way as the Cork crew battled it out having secured an early lead from a superbly executed header after a precision driven corner. Drogheda would equalize in similar fashion at the same end of the ground in the second half to launch themselves on the path to a memorable victory.
Normally, I go to these games with my friend Paddy. He drives and we anchor in the car park across the road from Weavers and then enter through the side of the ground that houses the home support. Last night, with the weather fine, I walked the thirty minutes that it takes to reach the ground from my home. Did the same after the game, a hip flask of Jack Daniels heavier, deriving considerable serenity from my bourbon fuelled stroll.
Once in town there were taxis aplenty but such a pleasant evening would be wasted inside one, not to mention the fare.
My walk to the ground took me up the Windmill Road where, rather than add to my journey and make the extra few hundred yards around the stadium, curiosity got the better of me and I decided to sit with the Cork fans. At least I thought they were the Cork fans until the Drogs equalised. There then seemed to be more of us than them in the visitors' side. At times it was funny watching old codgers my age mouth expletives at each other, first a Drogheda accented insult followed by a curse with a Cork inflexion. A female steward planted herself in the short gap between the warring seniors, a smile throughout, sort of knowing it was hot air.
The Ultras were as loud as ever but it was worthwhile to view them and their salvo of flares head on across the field of play. Their side's comeback the catalyst for a cacophony of joyous celebration.
The Ultras were as loud as ever but it was worthwhile to view them and their salvo of flares head on across the field of play. Their side's comeback the catalyst for a cacophony of joyous celebration.
Right in front of me was an Asian kid with his dad. Each goal netted by the Drogs led to me and him exchanging a high five. His excitement and enthusiasm reminded me of much younger days at the Oval cheering on Glentoran. As we parted we again high fived before his dad and I shook hands.
This victory over the Cork men, the first in a decade, leaves Drogheda in poll position to be playing top flight Irish soccer next season. Cork, eight points adrift, seem certain to face a play off if they are to meet the Drogs next season. If they are to have any hope, they need to get players like Malik Dijksteel in the frame of mind where staying on the pitch matters. In receipt of a second yellow for a stupid push while the game was not in play his departure was the turning point in the match. Prior to him walking the plank he forced a save from Andrew Wogan that Liverpool’s Allisson Becker would have been proud of. Many Cork fans might feel aggrieved that Dijksteel in his debut for Cork was arguably responsible for the precarious position their team now finds itself in - facing the drop.
Solitude is home to Belfast side Cliftonville. Last night solitude at the Weavers meant something different. It is not that the Sartrean principle that hell is other people has any purchase at the games, but it was a different experience from a change of vantage point. That said, I'll be more than happy to have Paddy back for next week's clash with UCD.
Often when I hear Cork mentioned I am reminded of a quip by the late Jim McAllister made one day in Connolly House - Cork, me arse, it's the dirtiest hole in Ireland. It is a hole they are likely to plummet through if they fail to halt the decline.
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You old Hooligan, Anthony, I deplore such activities at sporting events, old boy, me being such an angelic fan 🤣🤣🤣.
ReplyDeleteCaoimhin O'Muraile