Ready for a new chapter of sporting dreams

IT SEEMED entirely appropriate at a time of unprecedented activity in the construction sector in this country that Lansdowne Road should finally play host to the demolition experts.

In truth they didn’t need to work very hard — experts predicted the fabled structure would collapse of its own accord within a period of twenty years. With the rest of the Dublin skyline pock-marked with giant cranes, a few more in the vicinity of Ballsbridge wouldn’t attract too much attention.

It may not have been pretty, but it was home. That is why when I left the stadium for the final time after the last ever rugby game to be played at the old Lansdowne between Leinster and Ulster in December 2006, I was forced to take stock of a patch of ground that held so many wonderful memories.

The intervening period — 2007 World Cup excepted — has been good for Irish rugby. With a Grand Slam and a pair of Heineken Cup and Magners League successes in the bag, it is fitting that the international rugby team finally plays host in a stadium that mirrors its ambition on the field.

Much has changed in this country in the three year period since the redevelopment of Lansdowne Road started. Unemployment, emigration and a spiralling national debt now define the personality of a nation where sport seems to offer the only respite to the doom and gloom across our airwaves.

On returning to rugby headquarters for the first game in the magnificent new setting last Saturday week, at least I was reminded of some of the lasting, if sadly scarce, benefits of the boom years. The journey from the Jack Lynch tunnel at Dunkettle to the Red Cow roundabout can now be negotiated comfortably in two hours while the stadium itself incorporates all the facilities and modern comforts that both players and spectators can be justifiably proud of.

Up the road, the Berkeley Court hotel has quickly re-established itself as the focal point for all things rugby and the most familiar rendezvous point for long lost friends. On collection of my accreditation for the game the impact of the new stadium immediately began to take shape. One of the perks of working with RTÉ is that they provide a pass for the brand new underground car park deep in the bowls of the stadium.

When I finally negotiated my way through the demi-monde and re-emerged in daylight, I find myself standing on the site of the old back pitches where those torturous Sunday morning sessions took place in readiness for the international season. The pitches are no more, replaced by a brand new artificial model, a combination of fibre and rubber — no requirement to get down and dirty on that surface.

For twelve years I regularly travelled to Dublin on a Saturday evening having already played for club or province in the afternoon for those punishing Sunday morning endurance tests under a variety of international coaches from Tom Kiernan, Willie John and Mick Doyle to Jimmy Davidson and my former skipper Ciaran Fitzgerald. Sadly two of those great men are no longer with us and will never get to sample the delights of the new arena.

While the modern player now undergoes a ‘recovery session’ on the morning after a game, we also were recovering — but in most instances from the self-imposed carnage of a late night in the nation’s capital. The coaches knew that too and regularly made us pay dearly. I don’t miss that Sunday morning torture.

While the old Lansdowne was a barren place when empty (as it was on many a team run or when Cork Con travelled to play Wanderers or Lansdowne), it came to life on international Saturdays.

There was no greater feeling in sport than when the referee hammered on the dressing room door demanding we make our entrance. Those seconds when you walked with your international team-mates down the narrow corridor, contemplating battle, were very special. Then the sight of that gentleman of the IRFU, the diminutive figure of the late Harry Booker, who would remind not to slip with those metal studs on the tiles that adorned the steps.

On first sight the crowd on the East Stand would stand in unison and provide a rapturous welcome. I feel sorry for the modern players in some instances as they now enter the pitch seven minutes prior to kick-off when the majority of the patrons are still sampling the delights of the multiple bars and corporate facilities. That was a regular occurrence in Croke Park. In that sense, new isn’t necessarily better.

Lining up to receive a kick off with the crowd only feet away was inspirational especially if you were the one who managed to take clean possession — into the game straight away. I will never forget the last few minutes of the 1982 Triple Crown and Five Nations championship-defining game against Scotland when, with an unassailable lead we could savour the prospect of victory. Preparing to chase a 22 drop out, the massive crowd were in full voice with the signature tune of the time ‘Cockles and Mussels’. I can still see the occupants of those sideline seats offering the thumbs-up sign with heartfelt joy and emotion etched on their faces. There wasn’t too much to be cheerful about back in those recessionary days either. Lansdowne Road may not have been particularly inviting for the visiting teams but to us it was wonderful.

Lansdowne Road, or the Aviva Stadium, as we are now forced to call it (I would have preferred The Lansdowne Aviva) is now set to play host to the dreams of a new and highly talented bunch of Irish rugby and soccer internationals. The most striking thing for me is that the design, with the crowd once again within touching of the lineout, lends itself to generating an intimidating cauldron for even the most experienced and talented opposition. Within a short few months the current Irish side will certainly experience that with South Africa and New Zealand set to grace us with their presence.

Lansdowne Road will always have a special place for me, but will now have to survive in the confines of our mind’s eye. Then again, the same is true for the other Five Nations venues such as Twickenham and Murrayfield, which have been completely rebuilt. Cardiff Arms Park has had a series of rebirths and is now the Millennium Stadium while France have abandoned the highly charged atmosphere that made the Parc des Princes such an unique venue to play in.

Under those circumstances the reincarnation of rugby headquarters is long overdue. As my father is wont to say, ‘time waits for no man’.