Our cup overfloweth

IN bygone days when the extent of my sporting horizon was confined to whether Cork could win an All-Ireland, the highlight of the year was witnessing the hurlers, or occasionally the footballers, parading silverware through the streets on an open-topped lorry.

The late seventies were particularly rewarding with the hurlers returning with the Liam McCarthy Cup for an historic three-in-a-row.

In those days open-top receptions for our sporting heroes was the sole preserve of the GAA. So much so that when I headed off to the inaugural Rugby World Cup in New Zealand and Australia in 1987, a friend suggested cynically that the next time he would see me was parading the William Webb Ellis trophy rounding Paddy Barry’s corner en route up Patrick Street.

Alas it never happened.

Selecting my sporting highlight of 2006 is a no-brainer. To be present in the Millennium Stadium, Cardiff on May 28th and witness Anthony Foley lift the Heineken Cup was an almost spiritual experience, akin to Moses reaching the Promised Land.

To appreciate the moment even more it was necessary to have been in Twickenham in 2000 when Ronan O’Gara’s penalty at the death veered outside the left hand upright. You had to be in Cardiff in 2002 when the stark realisation emerged that even despite the hand of Neil Back, Munster were just not quite good enough.

Add in the semi-final defeats to Stade Francais in 2001 and the epic against Wasps in Lansdowne Road in 2004 when Trevor Leota’s try in injury time led many to believe Munster would never win this tournament.

Despite being immersed in Munster rugby for so long, it really only dawned on me how far the Munster phenomenon had grown when I arrived in Cork airport to travel to Twickenham on the morning of the 2000 final against Northampton. To see two jumbo jets parked on the tarmac to shuttle hundreds of supporters across the Irish Sea brought the enormity of the event home. Cork airport didn’t do jumbos, and still doesn’t to my knowledge.

That support reached a zenith in Cardiff last May. Every hotel, hostelry, restaurant and B&B was given over to the Red Army. As a result, the incredible scenes that evolved under the closed roof in the Millennium Stadium will live long in the memory. Strike that. They’ll never be forgotten.

An hour before kick off, 65,000 Munster men, women and children, all bedecked in red, engulfed the arena. I couldn’t help but reflect that my first time playing for Munster outside of Ireland took place on the back pitch of this stadium against Cardiff in 1981. That game was preparation for the forthcoming clash against the touring Australians and was played in front of a fanatical Cardiff support of 10,000. Any Munster support that day was confined to exiles living in England and numbered no more than 50.

The only other sporting experience I can recall that came anyway close was the 1995 World Cup final between South Africa and New Zealand in Johannesburg. That was the day Nelson Mandela arrived on the field in the No 6 jersey worn by the captain Francois Piennar. When South Africa won the cup for the first time, by virtue of a late drop goal in extra time by Joel Stransky, the crowd went ballistic. Cardiff was different though; “our own” were playing.

So often in finals it takes a spark of genius or a moment of inspiration to separate the two teams. That seismic moment fell to Munster’s Peter Stringer in May. The blind side break which left French great Serge Betson grasping at thin air was that defining moment.

The picture of the diminutive number nine flying through the air with the shark-tooth gumshield remains the abiding image of the day. The little man with the big heart captured the biggest prize of all.

The response at the final whistle was incredible, a powder-keg of frustration exploding as people hugged and kissed strangers. Many sat, bewildered and in tears as they waited for ERC chairman Jean-Pierre Lux to present the trophy to Munster’s outstanding captain, Anthony Foley. Having experienced all the years of disappointments and narrow defeats nobody deserved to accept the cup more than the Shannon man. Incredibly, he started all but one of the 77 games Munster had played in Europe to reach that point.

If Pienaar led a glorious lap of honour to the backdrop of South Africa’s tribal theme song “Shosholoza”, the Munster players enjoyed a similar experience to the inspirational “Stand up and fight”. Even if Munster go on and retain the trophy this season, which is a distinct possibility, it will never quite be the same as that moment in Cardiff.

Three days later Parnell Place was thronged at the point where the Cork hurlers faced their public only months earlier having just missed out on another historic three in a row. The celebrations on this occasion were reserved for a rugby team. Almost twenty years after the prospect was first mentioned, an international trophy finally made its way through the streets of Cork. While I was still on the outside looking in, there was no-one prouder.