Learning Points: Jack Charlton taught us how to dream
Every nation has that moment, where it steps out from the shade of its dark past. When it reaches far beyond what was thought possible and in that single moment allows its people to dream.
History is littered with such moments; the Battle of Little Bighorn where great warrior leaders such as Crazy Horse and Chief Gall were inspired to victory over general Custer and his vainglorious bunch by the vision of Sitting Bull, George Washington crossing the icy Delaware or Alexander the Great out manoeuvring Darius and his magnificent Persian army, the list could go on and on.
These moments teach us that the impossible is possible, that we can achieve anything when we put our minds to it. We have many such moments on this beautiful island, Wolfe Tone’s ‘argument on behalf of the Irish people’ Michael Collins surreptitiously fighting the British army, The Good Friday Agreement, and yet often these moments of transformation are not just achieved through the political arena but rather the sporting one.
Few moments in my childhood meant more to me than Ray Houghton’s goal against England in Euro 1988. That looping headed goal signalled Ireland’s arrival on the international stage and loudly declared that we were now to be taken seriously.
This was a David and Goliath moment, an Ali versus Foreman. This was the moment we finally healed the psychic scar of oppression and for the first time started to hold our heads up.
We were no longer just good craic and nice supporters; we were there to actually achieve something. And after that moment we suddenly believed we could.
Last Saturday the nation woke to the sad news of the passing of Big Jack Charlton. The man who orchestrated one of the most profound and transformative shifts in any nation’s psyche.
The man who, quite simply, taught us to dream. When someone passes that means something to us, we often like to heap hyperbolic praise on them. Even the great detractors change their tune and speak in reverential dulcet tones, for we don’t speak ill of the dead here, perhaps for fear of retribution later on.
And if anyone was capable of imposing his will on a people, Big Jack was the man - alive or dead. And yet, there is nothing hyperbolic about the impact Jack Charlton had on this nation.
The 1980s were a bleak time to grow up in Ireland.
Ireland’s labour market was one of the worst-performing in Europe. The unemployment rate rose from 7% in 1979 to 17% in 1986 capped only by massive emigration to the UK or America. Our shores silently watched our children transform into their new identity, the great Irish diaspora, while our leaders told us we "were living way beyond our means".
There was very little to be hopeful for, very little to hold your head up for. We were a country losing our children to unemployment and sectarian violence.
In this backdrop, Jack Charlton stepped into his new role as Ireland’s football manager. I often wondered did he know what he was getting himself and his family into?
Surely he couldn’t have known how hungry we were for a father figure. A figure that didn’t let us down, that didn’t preach or steal from us. Charlton had applied for the England manager role but didn’t even receive a letter to say he was unsuccessful in his application.
Obviously a driving factor in his eagerness to make the Irish team a success. And the old, slightly tweaked dictum came to life; England’s loss became Ireland’s opportunity.
I often feel, in my work as a psychotherapist, my job is to help people see themselves fully, as they are. Over the years, layers of labels and negative feedback have distorted their view of themselves.
To be an instrument of change all you are really doing is allowing the client to see themselves free from all the destructive labels that have held them back.
And when I think of what that goal meant for all of us on this Island, I think of all the labels we thought about ourselves as a nation due to endless years of tyrannical oppression, church and state.
In that single moment, Jack Charlton and his team taught us to dream. Taught us that we should dare to dream and to be bold and never except anyone as our master.
There have been few moments in my life that illuminate the importance of believing in yourself more than Euro '88.
For too long we were taught to feel guilty about who we are and what we wanted to be.
Jack Charlton arrived on our shores and in his inimitable, uncompromising style told us to "give it a lash" and never give up.
And we, as a nation, thanked him by turning him into a god.
