Trap and the Pressing game
After all, it was just more of the same from Irish football’s foremost hurler of abuse on the ditch, a man who seems incapable of mounting a perfectly reasonable argument — that Ireland’s brand of football is often far from uplifting under Giovanni Trapattoni — without expressing it in the shrill, self-righteous tones of an insufferable pub bore.
But, considering all the gaiety he brings to the nation, we wouldn’t really have it any other way. And especially not in a slow week ahead of a dead rubber game, when Dunphy’s latest descent into self-caricature was the straw which broke the camel’s back as far as Stephen Hunt was concerned.
It was coming near the end of Hunt’s typically engaging but hardly headline-grabbing rap with the press in Malahide last Monday when, entirely unprompted, the player — as he’s wont to do on the pitch — revved up from nought to 90 in an instant, at first wading into unnamed critics of the Irish team before quickly showing his true hand and dubbing Dunphy “a skinny little rat.”
Not for the first time, those of us obliged to measure out too much of our lives in mining unquotable quotes, had reason to be grateful to the Hull man’s honest, no-frills approach.
But, in truth, we probably owed an equal debt of thanks to Dunphy for his provocative role in a gripping co-production which was altogether more entertaining than the yawn-fest which ensued at Croke Park on Wednesday.
But perhaps the most illuminating angle on the spat was provided by Trapattoni who, in a cool dismissal of the pundit, claimed not to know “this reporter” and, in general terms, affected to sideline criticism of his style as a largely irrelevant matter of opinion.
Now, I’ve little doubt that, before the Italian’s thoughts ever turned to our grand little country, Eamon Dunphy would have loomed about as large in Trapattoni’s mind as Stephen Hunt. Or, for that matter, Andy Reid.
But, now 17 months into the gig, I’m equally sure that the Italian is well up to speed on the disproportionate influence that three men in a television studio can have on the national mood.
However, I’m also inclined to believe that, frankly, Trap still doesn’t give a hoot. Because, after you’ve spent something like half a century experiencing a close-up view of the sharks of the Italian football media in full-blown feeding frenzy, anything Dunphy has to say by way of criticism, must seem, by comparison, about as troubling as the bite of a flea.
Marco Tardelli doubtless agrees. The Italian icon has been a model of courtesy, friendliness and easy-going humour in all his dealings with the Irish media but, when I sat down to interview him last year, a very different picture emerged of his press relations back in the day.
Recalling that many Italian journalists had objected to his inclusion in the national squad for the 1978 World Cup finals in Argentina, Tardelli told me: “My way of playing was very strong, very physical, very stressful psychologically. So when I finish the season, every season, I am dead. It’s true. But after the preparation in the World Cup training camp, I am fresh again, a new player. But the journalists were very difficult, even nasty to me. When I was young, if the journalists wrote something that was not correct, I would confront them, f**k off, you know.”
When I feigned shock, he laughed: “It’s okay, I was young. Now I understand some things I did not before.”
But it was surely a steep learning curve. By the time the opening phase of the next World Cup finals came round in 1982 — and before Tardelli would score that celebrated goal as Italy defeated West Germany in the final — the Italian camp’s relations with a hyper-critical media were so badly strained that the players opted for a press boycott. In Italy, it’s known as ‘silenzio-stampa’ and it meant that only the veteran goalkeeper Dino Zoff, was made available to journalists as, after a poor start, the team swaggered to triumph. Schadenfreude, anyone?
By 2002, it was Trapattoni’s turn to feel the heat as national manager when Italy were dumped out of the World Cup finals by South Korea. This week in Dublin he spoke about how he is still haunted by the refereeing decisions which went against this team that day but not all in the Italian media sympathised with the manager at the time.
One commentator lashed Trapattoni for his “inbred, maddening, bloody defensive tactics”. Suggesting that the manager’s approach was asking for trouble, another compared the team to “a rich man who drives around a dangerous neighbourhood with a Rolex on his wrist, his arm hanging out the window” whilst, memorably, a La Stampa writer declared: “A real team would have won even if the referee had been Korean. Moreno, with his face which looked like a depressed cow, has allowed Italy to hide behind an umbrella made by cry-babies.”
Like I say, even the Dunph would have to go a bit to top that sort of stuff.
Thus far, Trapattoni’s dealings with the media here have been almost universally cordial (if not entirely comprehensible), although there was brief hint that the rumbling volcano might finally erupt when, just moments after the emotional rollercoaster that was the 2-2 draw with Italy, he found himself questioned on live television about the continued omission of Andy Reid.
But, creditably under the circumstances, Trap just about kept his cool, something which tends to come easier to a football manager when the points, if not always the performances, continue to stack up in his favour. Criticism of selection and tactics, and a media focus on a player or players not being picked — the 70-year-old Italian has been through all this before, many times and to the power of 10. But he knows he will remain bullet-proof as long as he keeps getting the results.
Which only makes the imminent play-off all the more defining. For the first time since he took up the job, there will be no wriggle room, no safety-net, no table to prop up Irish hopes. Being hard to beat will not be enough. Even if the games are drawn and go all the way to penalties, only one result will suffice. For Trapattoni, for the team, supporters and critics alike — it’s finally win or bust time.
Hold onto your hats.
