Don’t mention the war

ALL hail the asterisk! Irish football’s most reliable typographical symbol is back and, as the dictionary definition would have it, busy living up to one of its most useful functions: “replacing portions of a profanity in order to reduce offence”.

Those of us with long memories recall its first appearance in 1982 when the Irish were beaten 2-1 by T******d & T****o. Then there was 1995 and that scoreless draw in L***********n, an occasion when the asterisk served the double purpose of helping to spare Big Jack’s blushes while making life easier for geographically-challenged hacks. More recently, of course, we had Cy****s and now, the latest game that dare not speak its name, S*n M****o.

Indeed, ‘asterisk’ seems altogether too noble-sounding a term for something which likes to get down and dirty, so imagine my relief to discover that, in certain computer circles, the symbol is more commonly known as a “splat”, due apparently to its “squashed bug” appearance.

Yep, post-San Marino, “splat” just about says it all.

Either way, the FAI is building up a nice little storehouse of asterisks against the rainy day when they might have to press them into action in the new League of Ireland table.

Indeed, now that the dust has settled on Ireland’s fraught excursion to the tiniest republic in the world Steve Staunton might even reflect that he bought himself a couple of lucky breaks in the immediate aftermath.

First, there was the fact that TV3 had live rights to the game, sparing the manager summary justice of what, in the circumstances, we might call the hung, won and quartered kind, at the hands of the high executioners Giles, Brady and the Dunph.

Then there was the small matter of the close proximity of a certain rugby game at Croker, which meant that Staunton only had to endure 48 hours of withering laceration before the front and back pages abruptly swapped hysteria for history.

And hysteria isn’t too far off the mark. Anger and dismay were justifiable emotions after San Marino but the feeding frenzy which ensued in print and on the airwaves did no-one any favours, least of all the newspaper which seemed to think it was a useful public service to print pictures of Staunton building a snowman in his garden with his kids.

The standard, time-honoured reaction to sporting ignominy is to call for heads on plates. Staunton? Delaney? The players? Sack ‘em all! Yeah, right, and then what?

In the case of the FAI boss, you’ll get little sympathy for pointing out that, under his stewardship, the Association has made a number of positive strides in the areas of underage football, women’s football and football in the community. The roll-out of the Technical Development Plan is another feather in the FAI’s cap, as is increased sponsorship for the game here, better relations with government and a general sense that the Association is a steadier ship than it has been since Saipan.

However, some of the toughest tests are still to come. The new Lansdowne Road is still a long way from reality and the Association’s direct responsibility for the League of Ireland is about to be subjected to its first sustained examination.

But of most immediate concern for Delaney is the problem of Staunton’s management of the international team. The Chief Executive might justifiably plead that this is only the tip of the Irish football iceberg but, as in politics, perception is everything, which is why he appears to be umbilically-linked to the fate of the inexperienced manager he gambled so heavily on helping to appoint.

It may well be that, long-term, Delaney’s reign will be seen to have been holed below the waterline by the events in Cyprus and San Marino but, right now, Stan is the one whose job is most immediately at risk.

I take no pleasure in stating the obvious: which is that it is hard, on the evidence so far, to mount any kind of convincing case for the manager’s prospects in the post. But if he is somehow to turn things around, then his players will have to rally to his cause by action rather than by word.

Reports circulating last weekend suggested that senior players — among them, it was claimed, Robbie Keane and Damien Duff — were contemplating jacking it in if Staunton was forced out of his job.

That sounds to me like heat of the moment stuff but if they really do want to respond to the distress signal — SOS! Save Our Stan! — then the place to do it is on the pitch at Croker next month. As it happens, I think criticism of both players has been excessive. The idea that our “pampered millionaire footballers” don’t care enough, is glib. Duff, although ring-rusty in the first half in San Marino, was one of Ireland’s more committed performers in the second 45 while, if anything, Keane seems to be trying too hard, turning up all over the pitch rather than in the one area where you want your record-breaking goal-scorer to be. Unburdening him of the captaincy is something to which Staunton should give serious consideration.

Still, at least the players have the power to do something about the mess the Irish team is in. For the rest of us, it’s a case now of travelling more in fading hope than expectation.