Sod it: Hanafin not very sporting as battle gets mucky

MARY HANAFIN was expected to turn over a sod yesterday.

No, don’t be silly, no one would refer to her party leader in such an offensive way — even if he has already demoted her twice — but rather a sod of turf at a new football club in her constituency.

Strangely, for the publicity seeking missile the Minister for Sport usually is, Ms Hanafin proved a no-show at the ceremony.

Having probably endured the worst relationship of any Cabinet member with the Taoiseach, Hanafin clearly wanted to relish her moment in the limelight and did not intend to waste it at a muddy sports pitch in Dún Laoghaire.

Ms Hanafin knew the contest was tightening, and after a clumsy start to his would-be coup on Sunday night, Micheál Martin regained some ground with a morning radio blitz which even seemed to smoke the tottering Taoiseach out of his bunker.

After initially having no public engagements during the day, the media was suddenly informed he’d be traipsing along to EirGrid late-afternoon.

At last, Brian Cowen would be able to claim he was in power, not merely in office — well, he’d be able to claim he was in a power company at least.

When told Mr Cowen would be down to talk to us after a swing through EirGrid’s control room, a collective shudder went through the waiting press pack.

Calamity Clowen in the electricity supply giant’s control room?

Was that really such a good idea? With his unlucky touch, surely the chances of the country suddenly be plunged into darkness must have spiralled dramatically.

Thankfully, the lights stayed on as Mr Cowen emerged to face the microphones, but he — as usual — had precious little to say once in front of them.

But Brian Lenihan did, or rather his little brother Conor did as he was unleashed as the Finance Minister’s attack dog — though this being Conor, it felt more like an attack hamster.

Cowen was a “dead man walking” according to Conor, well he didn’t quite say that himself, but said it’s what the party activists thought. Oh, and Conor added that no one believed Cowen didn’t discuss Anglo during that notorious game of golf with bank boss Seanie FitzPatrick — a golf game which in itself brought back all those horrible memories of the infamous Haughey era, the littler Lenihan squealed.

Well, that’s according to people Conor had talked to that is — Conor is keen to watch his own back should the Taoiseach survive, while sticking the knife into Mr Cowen’s back at the same time. Slippery. But that seems to be the way the Lenihans are playing this one — they don’t really want either side to win.

Mr Cowen later appeared on the evening news to declare himself a “fighter” — a stocky Rocky if you will — and to announce that FF had “enjoyed unpopularity” because of the decisions they’d taken. Well, at least someone enjoyed the last two-and-a-half years of disaster then.

Strikingly, Martin’s key argument for support was not that he could help FF stay in government at the election, but that he might — just — be able to stop Sinn Féin overtaking it as the main opposition party. How the mighty have fallen.

Finally, Ms Hanafin surfaced live at prime time on Pat Kenny’s Frontline — which is a bit like a shouty, political Jeremy Kyle Show, but without the paternity tests, or the fun — but refused to declare her hand.

Ms Hanafin has been waiting a long time for her revenge on the Taoiseach who sent her tumbling down the Cabinet ladder and was clearly savouring her moment in the spotlight. The Sports Minister is far too ladylike to ever publicly compare Mr Cowen to a sod, but she left him guessing whether she was going to turn him over like one none the less.