House of pain after World Cup cull
Itâs a beautiful place for an execution.
This morning a few players will see their World Cup dreams perish in a brutal scene, as Declan Kidney shakes his head in brisk, business-like meetings: pack your bags son, youâre off, and not to the land of the Long White Cloud.
Just kidding. It doesnât really happen like that at all. Our notion of the World Cup cull, which is scheduled in Irelandâs case for today, probably leans a little on stories from the soccer world such as Paul Gascoigne wrecking the fittings in Glenn Hoddleâs hotel room when the latter left him out of the England World Cup squad for the 1998 tournament.
(Note to any enraged Irish players: donât think of that this morning. Those lampshades and coffeetables in Carton look nice, and are probably very dear.)
That doesnât mean exclusion is painless. As recently as last week Leo Cullen spoke about the shock of not making the 2003 World Cup squad â how he didnât see it coming until he got a phone call which more or less told him to put away the big suitcase he had packed.
But itâll be different in a lot of ways today.
For one thing, a lot of the players will know already. The shock of being told makes for good dramatic reading, but in most cases it doesnât exist.
âDeclan (Kidney) would explain to individuals where they stand,â says former international Alan Quinlan.
âHe wouldnât blindside players like that. You can be sure some guys have been told already, while others were playing for their places last weekend against France. But they know that, theyâll know thatâs the scenario.
âYou wouldnât have players being completely shocked. That wonât happen, it might have happened in the older days, but Declan is too good with people, too good with his man-management skills, for that to happen nowadays.â
That doesnât mean there isnât a particular atmosphere in the Kildare hotel this morning.
Quinlan went through it a couple of times and can envisage a certain quality to breakfast-time.
âEveryoneâs just tense and nervous â a certain number of guys know theyâll be on the team but thereâs a good few guys who are close â they had a chance with the games this weekend, say, and theyâll know how well theyâve done or not, whether theyâve helped their chances with their displays.
âBut youâd notice the tension, certainly, on a morning like this.â
Itâs hard when the players whoâve been culled leave the hotel, also. Those whoâve been told their seats on the plane are safe are delighted, naturally, but as Quinlan says, thereâs a reluctance to rub it in.
âEveryone on the plane is sad for those who havenât made it, which makes for a strange enough atmosphere â you have guys who are elated but who canât show it because there are friends of theirs who arenât going.
âThey just pack up and go and though theyâre on standby, which is the next best thing, itâs difficult for them because theyâve worked really hard. There are always certainties but the lads who are on the edge . . . in 2007 it was very difficult for the likes of Jamie Heaslip, who would have been very close to making the final squad.
âYouâd feel the pain of the lads that donât go because playing in a World Cup is such a massive opportunity, itâs what youâve worked so hard for, and then you lose out at the last possible moment.â
Irish Examiner rugby columnist Donal Lenihan has seen the final cull from both sides â as player in the 1987 and 1991 World Cups, and as manager for the 1999 tournament.
He echoes Quinlan on the build-up to today.
âIâd imagine anyone who isnât going either knows or has a fair idea at this stage, it wonât come as a complete shock to them. Thereâd be a fair amount of consultation going on in the run-up to this morning.â
It wasnât quite like that in 1987 ...
âNo, there was the old system for that first World Cup â a letter, and if you werenât at home for the post you might have heard it on the radio. There were certainly a few anxious phone calls flying around between fellas that morning, because there would have been a 26-man squad â tighter numbers, which meant fewer places.
âOn the one hand the best part of being a manager or a coach is telling someone theyâre getting their first cap, World Cup or not. The hardest part is leaving them out, but thereâs a right way to do that, too.â
Scant comfort, maybe, to those whose cars are nosing over the speed bumps on the driveway out of Carton House this morning. But thereâs always 2015.
* Contact: michael.moynihan@examiner.ie Twitter: MikeMoynihanEx