Kieran Shannon: A positive from the defeat to Wales? Our frustration shows we still care

Ireland's Will Connors consoles Billy Burns after the game. Picture: INPHO/Tommy Dickson

At first this was going to be a bit of a moan about all the moaning that can come with an Irish rugby defeat — just as some victories of theirs can trigger an overreaction as well.

But then it dawned. The condemnation of the ‘folly’ of Peter O’Mahony with some even calling that he should be dropped as well as suspended; the frustration over Billy Burns’ lamentable kick to the corner and how Ireland coughed up a winnable game that seemed hopeless at one point; the speculation and lack of conviction over whether Andy Farrell is the man to take us beyond this campaign and all the way to France 2023; it actually all stems from a sense that this matters. This mattered. The complaining came from a sense of caring, or at least of interest. We’d been stirred again. We’d stirred again.

It’s been a while since a sports contest triggered that kind of reaction. During the second lockdown, it was often remarked — and rightly so — just what a necessary and welcome distraction the inter-county championships were.

Every weekend, there were games and stories to brighten up those dark evenings, something to talk about, something to think about: Mark Moran and Mayo in Tuam having their own and the rest of us believing again. Thomas Galligan and the rest of those mad Cavan boyos. Callum Lyons. Mark Keane. Tony Kelly. Gearóid Hegarty. Conor Sweeney and Colin O’Riordan with a bit of Mick Hogan thrown in. Austin Gleeson. Gearóid Hegarty again before inevitably the Dubs yet again.

But then the last Saturday before Christmas, the lights were turned off in Croker. And then along came Christmas itself, leaving a level of devastation in its wake that it never has before. The subsequent lockdown has been the bleakest yet. Not only are the kids and the rest of us unable to play outdoors in pods more than one but most of us haven’t had a real team to root for on the box.

Sure, we’ve still kept an eye on the Premier League, but if you don’t have your own dog in that race, what is there to really get animated about? With Liverpool finally ending that 30-year famine, there’s no narrative to really hold our attention, or at least since United’s slim chance segued into none.

The US sports have only been able to do so much as well. It’s too soon since the bubble in Florida and too far from the next playoffs to get excited about LeBron & Co. We stayed up as always to watch the Super Bowl but as much as his name suggests he’s from these parts, Tom Brady ain’t.

But Johnny Sexton and the boys are — or at least most of them are. They play for here.

We’re of course aware that they’ve been plying away for their clubs and even country in recent months. But the PRO14, as even a recent derby like Munster-Leinster proved, needs a passionate crowd as extras to stir the passions of those at home.

It was too soon in the Champions Cup in more ways than one to get excited about it, while the autumn nations series seemed to lack the intensity and interest of a traditional autumn international series, again probably because there was no one at it.

But the Six Nations is different. Even though there was no crowd to sing along with or greet the national anthems over the weekend, it still sang of tradition and familiarity and representation. And even though it’s become a bit too regular an occurrence these past 24 months to be concerned and complain about Ireland’s lack of conviction and consistency, there was also strangely enough a certain comfort in such familiarity.

This column grew up when it was simply the Five Nations, something the tournament should consider returning to or else find a sixth nation other than Italy.

And like so many of our generation, moments and men from those years are forever etched in our minds: Ginger in Twickenham, Ollie Campbell and the Triple Crown and Molly Malone; Ciaran Fitzgerald pointing to his temple and Michael Kiernan drop kicking over the bar in ’85.

But for the most part, those years were the dogdays. While we’d always tend to beat Wales in Cardiff, they’d inevitably beat us in Lansdowne. As would the Scots. With no Italians around, we were the ones who usually ended up stuck with the wooden spoon.

And yet on those February and March Saturdays we’d always watch, just as we’d tune in and listen to RTÉ Radio on the Sunday for Ned van Esbeck and other commentators suggest how half the team should be changed for the following match against the French.

And there’d be moments of magic to sustain us, like a Simon Geoghegan twist of the hips and a try in the corner.

Irish rugby, primarily because of a watershed that occurred this month 21 years ago, obviously expects and demands more, and we should expect and demand more of Irish rugby. They are now professionals. If they want the perks, they should be able to take some of the brickbats too.

It is still too early in this campaign — and in Andy Farrell’s managerial tenure — to make any judgements about him and his set-up. Eight years ago, we won in terrific style in Cardiff; remember Simon Zebo’s bit of magic? And remember what happened? We didn’t win another game under Declan Kidney and Wales won every subsequent game to win the championship.

Every second year on average since the game went professional, a team has caught fire at the start of the Six Nations and gone on to win the Slam. But just as likely to happen is that teams will take games off one another.

Maybe this is the year the French win their first Slam since 2010. Or maybe this weekend is when we take down a fellow big gun, something we’ve done every year since the Five Nations became the Six Nations back in 2000.

For now, we’ll hold judgement on Farrell. We often hear after we crash out at the quarter-final of a World Cup that the next couple of years should be about trying different options, different ways, even if it involves some growing pains and disappointing results in the Six Nations — yet those same people are now billing this Saturday as a “must-win”.

As Donal Lenihan wrote in these pages, this is a time where Ireland need cool heads on and off the field. Contrary to some critics, rugby players undergo enormous self-criticism; no sport in these islands is as familiar with the harshness of the video room. But within Andy Farrell’s set-up, they will know Cardiff wasn’t a catastrophe either.

It’s a time of frustration for sure, but not for despair. And that frustration isn’t necessarily all bad.

This may never have been truly Rugby Country but this is truly rugby season, or at least for now.

In the coming years, the Six Nations or whatever it’ll be called won’t be free to air and we won’t be watching it the way we did as kids or our kids do now.

So while we can, there’s something to savour in so many of us turning on the box next Sunday and all watching at once as Ireland’s Call strikes up — even if we’ll all be giving out about it.