A tale of two leagues

SO HERE it is.

The new season. The big kick off. Football is back.

And if you can think of a more effective way of antagonising League of Ireland fans than by hailing the return of the Premiership in such terms, then please let me know.

Nevertheless, to a large body of people who profess to love football in this country, today marks the end of a drought as English football resumes its competitive life after the close season.

No matter that Drogheda and Pats fought out a top of the table clash last night or that, after an action-packed summer, the domestic campaign is heading firmly into the home straight.

For the thousands of Irish people who follow English clubs, the real season starts here.

Should they feel guilty about this? You’ll find plenty around the Irish game who think they should, as evidenced during the Cork City-Sunderland friendly by the Rebel Army exhorting the rare spectacle of a full house at Turner’s Cross to support their local team. Author and journalist Eamonn Sweeney went even further when he wrote: “If you’re one of the people whose only sight of an eircom League ground comes when an English team visits, shame on you. Because you can’t consider yourself a genuine fan unless you make the effort to support the domestic game.”

As the author of a terrific book on supporting Sligo Rovers, Eamonn certainly has the grassroots credentials but I fear he doth protest too much.

Not that I don’t have sympathy or admiration for their position. After all, I speak as someone who, as a nipper, devoted myself exclusively to worshipping at the Church Of Milltown throughout the 1970s. But though I’d nailed my green and white colours to the mast, people would still insist on asking me who I “really” followed, it simply never crossed my mind that mates who supported Man United or Arsenal or Wolves — yes, it was that long ago — were any less genuine about their allegiance than I was.

An older relative was probably influential in this regard. A Man United nut, he had scrapbooks full of black and white newspaper match reports going back years but with the added personal touch — and surely the mark of the true fanatic — that in every picture he had coloured in the players’ shirts with red biro. He also had a vinyl album copy of the commentary from the 1968 European Cup Final which invariably brought him to the brink of tears, as once again he pictured the moment George Best dribbled ‘round the Benfica ‘keeper.

I doubt I ever met anyone so hopelessly devoted to one club and, by extension, football itself.

Moreover, I completely understand the lure of what used to be called “cross-channel football”. With my usual timing, I had rallied to the cause of the Hoops just as they were winning the last of their six in a row in 1969, blissfully unaware that within a year or two, the domestic game would be in decline, never again to achieve anything close to those full houses at Milltown or the estimated 45,000 who watched the Hoops beat Waterford in the 1968 FAI Cup final at Dalymount Park. I might have still revered Mick Leech and Frank O’Neill — and grudgingly conceded the likes of Miah Dennehy and Alfie Hale were class acts — but, with the introduction of “The Big Match” on ITV on Sundays, there was now conclusive evidence that Best, Osgood, Chivers et al were a cut above again.

Bigger crowds, bigger stars, better football, more glamour — who wouldn’t be seduced by the English game, even if the experience was confined to a small screen? And as it was then, is now, with bells on.

There are good reasons to disparage the state of the Premiership, only the latest of which is the ease with which the sinister Thaksin Shinawatra has taken over at Manchester City, but the over-paid, over-sexed and over-there caricature is becoming tiresome.

Viewed from over here, the Sunderland story might be of interest mainly because of Roy Keane and the Irish connection, but you don’t need to visit Wearside more than once to sense how crucial the club is to the city’s sense of itself. This is true throughout England, from the Premiership down.

The tendency in Ireland to glorify the purity of Gaelic games in supposed contrast to the artificiality of English soccer misses the reality that many clubs in England command support which is every bit as loyal, historic and deeply ingrained as is the allegiance here to parish or county.

Meanwhile, Irish soccer gets caught in the squeeze. Positive strides have been made, in terms of ground improvements, prize money, sponsorship and, most importantly, standards of play. But while there are few live football experiences more uplifting than a big game in front of a big crowd at Turner’s Cross or The Brandywell, it will take a major European breakthrough to make the greater Irish football public sit up and take notice.

And despite some thrilling successes by the likes of Shelbourne, Cork City and Derry City in European competition in recent years, this season now sees only Drogheda United left in contention in the UEFA Cup.

I would like nothing better than to see the kinds of crowds which turned up for the Sunderland Irish tour become a regular feature in the League of Ireland. (Indeed, I’d even settle for Rovers having a home in Tallaght, and then worry about whether the big crowds turn up or not). Even an expression of footballing dual citizenship would be welcome — Man U or Liverpool on TV and League of Ireland football in the flesh.

The reality, however, is that the Premiership is, literally, in a different league but, being so close, still feels like a home from home for huge numbers of Irish football fans. Berating them for choosing the manifestly superior option is a pointless exercise. Short of sporting conscription, people will express their own preferences for their own good reasons, and are entitled to do so.

Frankly, they have nothing to be ashamed of. Unless they follow Man City, of course.