FAI in the line of fire

JOHN DELANEY just knew it was going to be one of those godawful shitty days last Thursday week.

JOHN DELANEY just knew it was going to be one of those godawful shitty days last Thursday week.

After waking at 5.40am to the FAI’s unfortunate capacity for own goals and self-inflicted gun wounds, Delaney girded himself for the worst.

The world had come down around Ireland’s World Cup campaign before it started. Its star player was preparing for a flight home on the orders of the manager while friend and foe were clamouring aboard a runaway train with a giant banner reading: “The FAI couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery.” Oh and by the way, Delaney was finalising the annual accounts of the Association for approval that afternoon.

The 33-year-old Waterford man, the youngest officer in the history of the FAI, kissed his pregnant-with-twins wife Emer and drove headlong into the force of a full blown crisis.

“It was evident straight away that we would have to host a press conference.

"There are times when you know you are dealing with the biggest event in your life outside the birth of your children. Humans have a great sense of smell, and you could see trouble coming around the corner on this one,” Delaney reflected.

Working on the simple premise of damage limitation, he undertook a round of media interviews that would make Tony Blair weary.

The FAI had 24 hours to get their side of the story out, and Delaney, well versed in the ways of the media from father, Joe, was covering all bases.

From Morning Ireland through a live TV conference on to the Six One news and through to Prime Time, Dunphy’s Last Word and Vincent Browne’s radio show, Delaney broke every rule of an organisation in crisis — he was up front, available and honest.

Did it work? Positively. Did it change our impression of the FAI? Take it easy, there, cowboy.

The thing is that Delaney and his chief executive, who through a happy (for him) confluence of circumstances was in the air en route to Japan while everything was exploding around Merrion Square, recognise they are paying for the sins of past administrations, and will continue to do so for some time and tournaments to come.

Delaney says there were footballs available in Saipan 13 days ago, but not the tournament-specific variety. There should have been an FAI representation at Tokyo customs to ensure the DHL cargo was expressed through to their hideaway island in the Pacific, and the FAI must accept their already brittle reputation has been further bruised.

You sense from talking to Delaney that he realises that already. “I hate things being done wrong. I don’t mind defending my own decisions and mistakes but.......well, we’re not happy about it. Let’s leave it like that.”

In his column in this newspaper last Thursday, Andy Townsend spoke of the ‘Ole Ole’ mentality of the FAI, the sense of a jolly-up from Italia 1990 that was still prevalent in Merrion Square. “The FAI haven’t realised that things have moved on,” wrote Townsend. Delaney stresses that this is precisely the mindset they are bent on changing.

“We’re well aware of the image that is out there and it will take time to change. But if we start by being up front and more professional in everything we do, then it will be a good start.”

Ironically, the FAI believed they had learned from the mistakes of Joe Delaney’s time by appointing Ray Treacy and spending lavishly on a small American-controlled island in the Pacific. It was, literally and metaphorically the most expensive element of the World Cup adventure.

With Keane back in Manchester and Delaney holding the fort in Dublin, their mutual friend, solicitor Michael Kennedy, became the favourite speed-dial option for mediation.

Delaney had struck up a good friendship with Keane’s London-based representative during squad bonus negotiations for the World Cup. Even after their ultimate failure to reunite the Man Utd skipper with the Irish squad the FAI treasurer was keen to underline the sterling efforts of Kennedy, whose father-in-law passed away during the turmoil.

Perhaps he was being a touch modest, but as he set off for 14 hours of solitude aboard a flight to Tokyo on Thursday, Delaney was still bemused by the affair. “I don’t think the kit and footballs issue was the reason Roy left, and I do feel in FAI terms it has been a case of ‘give a dog a bad name’.

“Certainly it has been a difficult week and by the time I went for three or four pints last Saturday night in Waterford I was exhausted to a point that I could never previously recall. How are we perceived now? Well I hope that when I meet up with the lads in Japan that they might feel we have handled the crisis pretty well at home. That would be a start.”

As a former executive officer of Waterford United, Delaney is all too aware of the gaps in Irish soccer. But he still believes the Republic’s Japanese campaign can be remembered fondly.

“I was coming home with Gary Breen from the Niall Quinn testimonial in Sunderland and he was telling me how all the lads at the Stadium of Light were enthralled by Ireland’s team spirit. Now is the time to use that.”

Of course the constant firefighting takes its toll. “Between Eircom Park and the national stadium and now this, it’s been impossible to formulate strategy for the future. Hopefully when this is all over we can get back to administration.” Hopefully.

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