Sound of silence: RTÉ unhappy with Stephen Kenny’s failure to appear for live TV interview
NO TIME TO CHAT: RTÉ’s Tony O’Donoghue watching the second half of the Ireland-Azerbaijan match at the Aviva Stadium on Saturday, with Stephen Kenny, who failed to talk to the channel in the aftermath of defeat, in the background. Picture: James Crombie
The worse thing is the silence. That was the most telling aspect of the fallout from this latest low point for Irish football.
Stephen Kenny’s failure to appear before the live RTÉ cameras for a post-match interview, instead leaving the explanations to youngsters Josh Cullen and Adam Idah, was not a good look.
Whether due to Covid restrictions and the absence of broadcast interviews in the tunnel at the moment, or through something else, it’s an incident that Uefa are examining and something which RTÉ are deeply unhappy about.
But you get that after a shock. The silence that trauma brings.
Being forensically interrogated in front of an aghast nation by Tony O’Donoghue is never a nice thing, but it is a harrowing and necessary piece of work.
The manager’s failure to appear in front of the lead broadcast partner is being blamed on “Covid restrictions and new broadcast positions in place post-match” — but the FAI wasn’t commenting.
Such a seemingly innocuous event shouts loudly that the siege has started.
The debate is now whether Azerbaijan ranks ahead of, or behind, Luxembourg as a devastating result.
Normally after a shocking loss — I can only speak of Ireland 1-5 Denmark — there is the relief for the players and staff of escape.
First flights out of there, home to family and the comfort they deliver, and back to the UK and away from the noise and hysteria that failure brings.
In this case they’re stuck. Light training yesterday, pre-match in the stadium today, and the stifling terror of matchday and what a highly destructive Serbia might bring.
In the immediate aftermath of a game like Saturday’s, it will take up to two hours for the players and staff to pack up and leave and get back onto the bus and back to Castleknock, and the eternity that the coming days will seem.
The worst thing is the silence. The disconnect. No eye contact, no contact, no sound.
The feeling of being alone in a room of 60 people. The only noise is the sound of cutlery on delph as the post-match meal is consumed long after a final whistle on a game nobody will forget.
Even the normally chirpy and lovely lead server is quiet; sympathetic, but silent. Reading a room is her forte and her fun is not required now.
Two long tables — one occupied by the players, the other by management and staff — are full as supper is consumed in silence.
Nobody speaks except the manager, to occasionally inquire to the communications team about who that guy was who asked that question in the press conference, and why.
In the wake of Denmark there was a feeling of helplessness.
A game that was so traumatic for everyone on a pitch where we had beaten the world champions, a stadium which was supposed to host one of the great nights in Irish sport had been carpet-bombed into oblivion.
What was so similar between Azerbaijan and Denmark was the shocking reality that we had made an absolute mess of a situation which was within our control.
Yes, Denmark are first-class compared to Azerbaijan, but it’s the manner of the result, nor the calibre of opposition.
My first thought on Saturday evening at 6,56pm, following arguably our second or third worst ever performance at home, was this: “They don’t even have the salvation of being able to leave.”
They’re stuck in camp for another three days, with a highly dangerous Serbia lurking, ready to feast on the corpse that Irish football has become.
Alcohol helps, but the bar at the Castleknock Hotel and Country Club wasn’t even an option for players looking forward to escaping the shock of being part of the nightmare which Irish football has become.
Instead, it was back to the rooms and the dreaded silent observation of social media on their phones.
Lots of the players will have arranged to meet loved ones in the lobby and bar afterwards for what should be a proud moment — representing their family and country on the highest stage.
Except in moments of deep humiliation that honour disappears in the sweat, tears, and frustration that heavy disappointment brings.
Long after the rest of the country has thrown the remote at the TV, kicked the dog, and poured that first reassuring salvation, the players are in an inescapable void with not even the assurance of a homeward journey to look forward to.
When Stephen Kenny eventually shows for a broadcast interview, he will have known that he has a suite of activations to go.
Being questioned by RTÉ is one thing, but then you must go to the press conference — limited these days, mercifully — and explain your actions and inactions.
Imagine screwing up so badly in work and then having to explain yourself to 100 (almost always men) journalists, many of whom are not thinking compassionately but on the basis of finding that revealing quote.
It can be devastating.
I remember after the shock of the Denmark 1-5 defeat, a young journalist asking a question of Martin O’Neill towards the end of his post-match presser, which effectively said: “You’ve been a very lucky manager up to now, has your luck finally run out?” At that point, the farce was complete. Game over. Press conference over.
I am, and was, a journalist, an often insensitive and headline-craving carnivore, but such an interrogation was inhumane in the wake of sporting tragedy. But that’s the gig and Martin was well paid for it.
Martin O’Neill didn’t enjoy what Kenny has — the love and appreciation of the media — and Kenny doesn’t have what O’Neill had — a €1.5m contract and vast wealth to fall back on.
When, and it seems inevitable, the FAI fails to bounce a new contract in Stephen Kenny’s direction, he will be back in the League of Ireland, starting over.
‘The greatest league in the world’ and all that is a mighty fall from the loftiest of perches.
Steve Staunton never recovered from his management experience — a man who played on one of the greatest club sides of all time — reduced to humiliation by daring to stick his neck out.
You just wish him well, if it all comes to a seemingly obvious point in the road.
Martin had his beautiful Buckinghamshire home to retreat to, with his money and options. Kenny will have to deal with adversity head-on, and he will.
The one thing he has over Martin is a warm regard by the press, Martin didn’t get the Irish media and they didn’t get him.
For Kenny, there was a seemingly unending font of appreciation, but even that began to evaporate as his wild-eyed celebration of Ireland’s equalising goal against a minnow materialised.
But he has faced bigger challenges. This is a man who came as close to death as it gets, and he will deal with it.
The FAI is now part-owned by the Government, its biggest commercial and financial stakeholder.
It has a Department of Health secretary general on its board, and received life support of €20m from teh Government and Department of Sport last year in various reliefs.
It cannot simply go to market and pick up a new coach of world-class pedigree. Eddie Howe’s name has laughingly been bandied about recently — that’s never going to happen.
Chris Hughton is a possibility, if the former Spurs man is willing to take a monstrous pay cut once Forest are finished with him.
Most likely the FAI will be back to square one, back to trying someone out, in the same way John Delaney and the FAI board orchestrated the Kenny/Mick McCarthy manoeuvre.
Of course the biggest commercial issue here is that the ongoing search for a headline sponsor becomes even more desperate, as the FAI now must bring down their €2.5m per annum price on such an offering.
I remember well the morning after Denmark, at breakfast in the team room, and the only other person there was Roy Keane. The players had all gone home, the manager was with his family, and the staff were packing up.
Keane was extremely disappointed, sad even, but not for himself. The man who has achieved everything in the game was sincerely devastated for the team and the fans.
“I just feel so sorry for the lads, the staff, the supporters, everyone. It’s such a pity that we didn’t get to give them what they deserved.”
Stephen Kenny is operating at an entirely different level but his emotions will be a whole lot worse today as he faces into perhaps his final days in Ireland camp.
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