BOD is the definition of an Irishman
The retrospective arrangement, Joyce called it. All the choices, all the decisions — everything is vindicated by the right result at the end.
Last Saturday night in Paris is a good example, but not just in terms of game plans and tackling technique.
Long before the Six Nations even began, the new Ireland coach was looking for something different for his team, and his planning paid off in the Stade de France.
Ahead of the tournament Joe Schmidt wanted a speaker who might get into their heads, but not a former international or another sportsman.
The New Zealand native’s eventual choice was a different one, and a good one: historian Diarmaid Ferriter.
“Diarmaid came in and talked to the squad back in January,” says Ireland manager Mick Kearney.
“It was an idea Joe had come up with in terms of the history of Ireland, and the history of many conflicts going back over centuries.”
Schmidt considered that despite those conflicts, an alternative reading might be that Irish people could accomplish a great deal when coming together as a team.
Ferriter’s presentation affirmed that view.
“It was a hugely interesting talk by Diarmaid, and it went down very well with team and management,” says Kearney.
“One of the issues he touched on was trying to define an Irishman: he said he’d been studying history for 30 years but he still hadn’t come to a clear definition of what an Irishman was.”
Kearney and the management had a clear definition of what they wanted to accomplish for one Irishman, however.
Brian O’Driscoll was bringing down the curtain on the international career to end all international careers and making sure that swan song didn’t overshadow the fact that a Six Nations championship was on the line was a real challenge for the management.
“Brian was incredibly... professional isn’t quite the right word,” says Kearney, “But he certainly didn’t want a fuss made out of his departure.”
After the Italy game at the Aviva, management spoke to O’Driscoll and suggested keeping him out of the media: the player’s response was to reiterate that he didn’t want any fuss made out of his retirement, says Kearney.
“I think we managed the Brian situation pretty well.
“With the other players it was kept as low key as possible. The match is the main focus, it always is. Joe said some very nice things about Brian at the meeting before the French game — and before the Italy game the previous week, it being his last game at the Aviva — but other than that there would not have been a lot said.”
The focus now is on last Saturday evening in Paris of course, but that doesn’t take the previous weekend into account. Kearney feels now that the celebration in the Aviva for the Italy game helped with the management of the week leading into the Paris clash.
“I think it did, there were two massive occasions involved — Brian’s last game at the Aviva for Ireland was also the game in which he became the world’s most capped player — an incredible personal achievement. He kept his emotions in check, and while the squad was aware of the enormity of the occasion on both days for Brian, they didn’t want to focus too much on that, either.
“If it was mentioned it was in a quiet, understated way — it certainly wasn’t used as motivation — ‘let’s win this for Brian’, that kind of thing didn’t come into it.
“Everyone on the field with Brian in the Aviva — and the Stade de France the following weekend — would have felt honoured to be there, but in that understated way.”
Those in attendance weren’t the only ones who made a contribution.
Most people are aware that O’Driscoll got a letter from the Welsh Rugby Union congratulating him; most people don’t know the Welsh weren’t alone in putting pen to paper.
“Fair dues to the Welsh, it was a classy touch,” says Kearney. “He also got a nice letter from the New Zealand Rugby Union, which was equally effusive.
“If you consider the number of words written about him in the last few weeks, it’s impossible to compare to another sporting career — and all of it positive, there wasn’t one blip in a playing career that spanned 15 years, which is equally extraordinary.”
Last Saturday itself ran without a blip as well. Kearney gives the manager’s account of the preparations.
“It was a long day, with a 6pm kick-off. That brings its own challenges in terms of preparation for the players.
“What would happen in terms of their day is that a late breakfast is arranged for them, which they can have up to around 11am, and then the preparation kicks in properly around four hours before the game, when the players have a bit of a walk-through outside the hotel. They had a bit of a game, ran through a couple of moves from the game plan, that kind of thing.
“That was followed by a pre-match lunch, around three-and-a-half hours before kick-off, 2.30 or thereabouts. They rested up for about an hour after that, then there’s strapping and so on, whatever they needed to get themselves organised. After that we had a short talk from Joe — and I mean short, you’re talking about 10 minutes at the very most.”
Schmidt didn’t overdo the emotion, but he didn’t ignore the obvious either. He stressed that it was a special day and that usually players didn’t know how special those days were as they occurred, but that they did last Saturday: it was their last day playing with one man.
Then it was out to the bus.
There’s a long tradition of older Irish players occupying the front of the team bus because of the forthright approach taken by the escorting gendarmes on motorbikes: if a car is slow to pull over then the motards kick the doors until they do.
Are they still making work for Parisian panel-beaters, then? “As one of the lads said, you wouldn’t need a trip to the movies afterwards,” says Kearney.
“In fairness to the French, though, they’re very good like that: Paris is obviously a very busy city in terms of traffic, but from the moment we landed we had a police escort — from the airport to the hotel, to the captain’s run and back, all of that is sorted very well.”
The entire party didn’t get to see the motorbike cops lay down the law for innocent drivers: Paddy ‘Rala’ Reilly, the bag man, was gone to the Stade de France at 10amto get the dressing room set up with gear for the players. Video analysts Mervyn Murphy and Vinnie Hammond went to organise their equipment in the stadium at 2pm.
“From my point of view it’s not an incredibly busy day by any means,” says Kearney.
“Like everyone else involved there’s a lot of waiting around. The job is done, the training is all done and all that’s left is to get to the stadium. To play the game. To get the win.”
You know how it ended now, of course. The forward pass. The lengthy wait for Steve Walsh’s decision.
By then the coach’s box had been abandoned in the Stade de France, but there were specific messages in mind. Schmidt told RTÉ’s Second Captains during the week that he had directions for his side if the TMO had awarded the try: in the 60 seconds allowed for the conversion, the plan was to get the Irish water-carriers out with instructions on where to direct the restart. They were to win the ball and play through the middle of the field until they were able to kick a goal.
(How the wheel turns: Irish rugby fans with long memories may remember another Antipodean who thought clearly under pressure for victory — Michael Lynagh against Ireland in the 1991 World Cup, outlining for his teammates after Gordon Hamilton’s try the step by step approach they’d take to get the winning score.)
Common sense prevailed, as Schmidt said later. The forward pass was spotted. Ireland held out.
“At the end of the game there was an incredible release of tension,” says Kearney. “You couldn’t have scripted the finish to be more nail-biting, so the outpouring of emotion in those two or three minutes after the final whistle was the most extraordinary sensation I would have had on a rugby field.
“Joe is measured in everything he does, but he’d admit himself, I think, that he celebrated that moment as much as anything in his entire career.”
It was the Disney ending the country wanted but Kearney can point to the previous weekend to show how O’Driscoll stayed grounded.
At the end of the Italy game the manager was sitting in front of the replacements’ bench when he got a tap on the shoulder. It was O’Driscoll leaning forward for a word: “Listen, Mick, is there any chance you could get ROG out there into the middle of the pitch with me?”
Kearney says the request was typical of the man.
“He wouldn’t want all of that limelight on him, which is fair enough, but he’d also be aware — and it’d be something we’d all feel, to be honest — that Ronan didn’t get a proper send-off.
“Unfortunately sporting careers don’t always end in fairytales, like Brian’s, but the fact that he had Ronan in his mind on such a special day for him points out his humility, that complete lack of ego.”
Paris didn’t end in the Stade de France, of course. The official dinner is no hardship for a victorious team, and Paul O’Connell’s speech at the meal matched the occasion: “magnificent,” says Kearney.
Diarmuid Ferriter’s quandary, aired back in January, was answered by the Ireland captain.
“Paul spoke brilliantly about Brian’s warrior spirit, his humility, his honesty, his team ethos — all of those things,” says Kearney.
“He also said, ‘I know what the definition of an Irishman is now — that is Brian O’Driscoll’.”
CONNECT WITH US TODAY
Be the first to know the latest news and updates
