Stadium fails to match occasion

Last Saturday was a great day for Irish rugby.

A superb performance by the Ireland team and management underpinned a day of dramatic entertainment played out in front of a committed and absorbed audience. What a pity such a glorious gladitorial contest had to take place in such a pitiful arena.

Those of you who have been to Twickenham, Murrayfield, the Millennium Stadium and Stade de France know what it is like to watch a rugby match in a proper international stadium.

Munster may have lost the final, but to experience Cardiff last May was a joy.

The Millennium stadium is right in the centre of the city so we were able to leave our chosen public house and be sitting in our seats within 10 minutes. Once in the stadium, there was easy access to food, beverages and toilet facilities.

Trying to get a jar or burger in Lansdowne Road is an exercise in perseverance and patience, while I chanced upon a man in the bowels of the stadium who had gone to the soccer international against Switzerland and was still trying to find the toilet.

Then there’s the pitch. Pardon my French, but €400,000 to get laid? I hope the IRFU kept the receipt. It might have helped unsettle the Australians but it was not a surface suitable for international competition.

There was a layer of water sitting on top of the grass, particularly noticeable in the goal areas and all along the 22m line at the North end of the ground. An Irish Examiner photographer said afterwards that he was sinking in up to his ankles as he patrolled the pitch taking snaps.

We also need to examine the pre-match formalities. This is how it unfolded on Saturday: 14.18: Teams run out on the pitch in tracksuits and line up facing the West Stand.

14.20: President McAleese emerges and the Army band play the first few bars of Amhrán na bhFiann causing slight confusion as some mistake it for the official rendition of the National Anthem.

14.21-14.23: McAleese meets the teams and officials while the band plays ‘World in Union’.

14.24: Rendition of Australian anthem.

14.26: Official rendition of Amhrán na bhFiann. As the song ends Australian players break away ready to start the match.

14.28: Aussies called back as Ireland’s Call begins.

14.31: Match eventually kicks off.

Down Under, there are generally cheerleaders and razzmatazz before kick-off but when the teams emerge it’s two anthems and off we go (unless the All Blacks are performing the Haka).

So one can only imagine what was going through the minds of the younger Aussies.

‘Strewth George, who’s this Sheila?’ they must have thought, before “G’day Mary, good to meet ya.”

Then: “Crikey, these guys have another anthem? Aw, fair dinkum mates, we’ll be here all arvo.”

Irish rugby is a 32-county game and political sensitivities were behind the commissioning of ‘Ireland’s Call’ and that’s fair enough, especially for those who remember the awful rendition of ‘Rose of Tralee’ at the 1987 World Cup.

But why can’t we play Amhrán na bhFiann in Dublin and Ireland’s Call when we go abroad? It has to be better than the current 13-minute pre-game fidget fiasco.

Lansdowne Road is a proud, old stadium that has served the country well. Tradition is important but it must not be allowed stand in the way of progress and the old girl is simply no longer up to the job.

It’s like the ageing cabaret singer who has entertained punters in the working man’s club for years. She gives it her all but is finding it harder and harder to mask the onset of age. It’s tough on the owner, who feels great loyalty towards Vera. But things change and he knows the punters come first.

It’s time to find a younger, bustier replacement.