So, this happened.
Most likely from spending my formative years schooled on a curriculum of old-fashioned Catholic shame, I’ve always thought quite negatively of Ronaldo; I’ve never been able to stand how his incredible drive is seemingly motivated by ego, narcissism and vanity; that his only motivation for playing the game is to whip his top off, pose, flex and gurn for the cameras; to be the star of his own movie; to collect baubles for his own personal museum. It just seems awfully shallow and undignified to me. An inability to be gracious, modest or humble in victory.
But it’s a teachable moment. It was typical Ronaldo, and typical Ireland. As often happens, we got up for the big occasion and raised our game; we were brave, aggressive, well-organised, and – for a change – smart in possession. We produced our best, as usual, at a moment when our backs were to the wall; when fans feared the worst, and a heavy defeat was expected. The lads went out with a chip on their shoulder and a reserve of bitterness to sharpen their resolve.But that’s us to a tee - not just in football, but rugby too. We're emotional, mercurial, flighty, and inconsistent. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t.
That’s why, historically, we struggle to impose ourselves and score goals, even against modest opposition. That’s why we concede late goals and throw away hard-earned leads. We’re not used to being in good habits and chasing consistent excellence. It’ll be this one-off strong performance, and back to being passive; lacking in self-belief; always playing to the level of the opposition. Leaving ourselves at mercy to the cruel fate of, say, a Macedonian set-piece goal; a freak Israeli shot from thirty yards; a referee missing a clear handball in Paris.
As an Ireland fan, sometimes you think we’re simply cursed. Doomed to failure by some kind of cosmic, pre-destined martyrdom. But this shit doesn’t happen by accident. It’s the final, inevitable result of institutional and cultural dysfunction in Irish football. It’s the result of cutting corners in our player development; of funds going on vanity projects and fat corporate salaries rather than competent coaches and academy facilities. It’s the result of players going to England at 15 and thinking they’ve ‘made it’ after buying their first flashy car and getting VIP entry to provincial nightclubs; trying to fit in with the vacuous dopes on the D-List celebrity circuit; turning up late to training after being out on the piss.
We can occasionally tap into our wells of talent and good, old-fashioned Irish stubbornness for one-off, spirited performances. But can we do it on a cold night against Azerbaijan? Ronaldo does it. And he does it because he steadfastly refuses to cut corners, rest on his laurels, or give in to cheap thrills. What is the bigger vice? Aiming low and failing to devote yourself fully to your talents? Or making the absolute best of yourself, and being a bit of an arrogant cunt about it?
Ronaldo, driven as he is by the shallowness of ‘stardom’, pursues excellence with crystal-clear focus and obsessive work-ethic. It brings to mind the central tenet of nihilism, which is what I was feeling profoundly at 9:53pm on Wednesday. There is no God; there is no meaning, or intrinsic ‘good’ or ‘fairness,’ in life. Ronaldo has decided to create his own meaning and be the tyrannical God of his domain. His freakish level of self-belief has been hard-earned through a monstrous level of conditioning and application. Yes, Ronaldo loves himself. But love is about respect, trust, gratitude and honour - and Ronaldo clearly applies those values to his body, his abilities and his sport.
Last Wednesday, his Portuguese team-mates represented the other extreme of Ireland’s historical failings – a team of expensive talents who produce top-level performances every week, just having one of those rare lazy, over-confident and complacent days. Ronaldo, quite literally, rose above it all, and there’s a hard lesson in that.
I don't want to be too harsh, or down on Ireland; while performances and results have been poor, Stephen Kenny's team are showing incremental improvements within a very difficult context, as the ex-Dundalk coach continues to pick up the pieces from decades of short-termism and FAI mismanagement. The ongoing effort to become a proper, 21st century international football team, basing a new team on the substrate of an excellent U21 side, was always going to be a difficult and necessary one. Gavin Bazunu and Adam Idah seem like young men who are committed to their craft, taking responsibility and maturing as internationals - and we need more like them, if we're going to reinvent ourselves as more than just gallant losers.
Tonight is the acid test for those ambitions, and Kenny's management. With the U21 conveyor belt of talent continuing to produce, it's clear that Irish football is going in the right direction, and will get there eventually. The former Dundalk manager has started a refreshingly ambitious project, with the best intentions at heart to rid ourselves of the traditional Irish clichés of hoofball and glorious failure.
But if we slip up against Azerbaijan, Kenny probably won't be around to see the fruits of his labour.
