Electing for a not so rotten Boro

For BBC Dublin correspondent James Helm, supporting Middlesbrough can be tough. And that's before their results are taken into account.

If I had a euro for every time I've been asked the question in Ireland, I'd stop bemoaning the fact that I don't have an SSIA. The publican of my favourite bar in Dublin has asked me it many times, as if he didn't believe my original answer. It usually happens when I'm begging bar staff to search the various TV channels to see if a Middlesbrough match is being shown, or when I fall into soccer chat with taxi drivers. The short conversation goes something like this:

Whoever: "Why on earth do you support Middlesbrough?" (accompanied by shakes of the head.)

Me: "Because they were the local team where I grew up, and I've followed their fortunes, for better or for worse, ever since. Why do you support Man United/Liverpool/Arsenal/Chelsea/Leeds/Barcelona?"

Them: "But . . . Middlesbrough!"

Cue more disbelief, nervous chuckles, and conversational deadlock.

Things may be about to change. The club I've supported since the days when Big Jack was in charge are suddenly making headlines. And this time it's not for importing yet another exotic, well-paid has-been. If, in soccer terms, you are non-aligned, this may be a perfect opportunity for you to come on board.

Earlier this month, Middlesbrough beat Roma to reach the quarter-finals of the Uefa Cup. In fact, that was so enjoyable to type that I'm going to do it again: Middlesbrough beat Roma. It's not a sentence I ever imagined writing, even in my wildest footballing daydreams.

Admittedly, the team are probably languishing far too close to the Premiership drop zone to crow, but this season they have already beaten Manchester United and Chelsea by three clear goals (who else has managed that recently?), and have now seen off another of European football's aristocrats. As many of history's most dangerous attacking forces would testify, taking on Rome is not easy.

Des Cahill has even given Boro a mention on RTÉ. The football world, as they say, is sitting up and taking notice. Who knows, Middlesbrough may be about to shed their title of "Most Mis-spelt Football Club" (it's only got one "o").

Probably my most enjoyable afternoon in four years in this privileged post was spent on a muddy touchline watching the Ireland soccer team train. I sidled up to the watching Jack Charlton and got him to reminisce about the good old days. No, not 1988, or 1990, or even 1994. Back to the 1970s, when he cut his managerial teeth at Ayresome Park.

His team, with Northern Ireland's Jim Platt in goal, were a force to be reckoned with. They won the old Second Division at a canter and, in 1976, secured a trophy called the Anglo-Scottish Cup, a tournament I won't hear a word against.

Talking to Big Jack, I indulged in Fantasy Football Memories. I ran through all the names that are still scrawled in my battered old autograph book: Stan Cummins, the tiny striker for whom Big Jack predicted big things; Graeme Souness, who made his name at Boro, don't forget; and the late, lamented Willie Maddren, an elegant centre-half who, had he played for a more "fashionable" club would have regularly graced the England side of the 1970s.

That's the nub of it, and the probable cause of the mockery. Middlesbrough have never really been a glamorous club, despite all the Brazilians and Italians who've shown up in recent years. And, despite the glories of the Anglo-Scottish Cup and, more recently, the League Cup victory of 2004, the trophy cabinet hasn't exactly caused silver polish shortages across the North-East of England.

It's 20 years since Boro's all-time low point, when the club were on the brink of extinction, and the team had hit rock bottom. The rebirth in August 1986 began with an inauspicious 2-2 draw with Hartlepool United.

The 1990s were rarely dull, offering more ups and downs than your average fairground. With growing disbelief, the fans welcomed the likes of Ravanelli, Emerson, and the favourite of them all, Juninho. The 1996-7 season somehow brought two Wembley cup finals and relegation.

Once, after the club's first-ever FA Cup semi-final (okay, it was against Chesterfield, and we needed a replay to go through), I had to interview the tiny Brazilian master in the tunnel. He looked startled by the enthusiasm of my congratulations, and I narrowly avoided hugging him. The final was memorable mainly for the fact that Chelsea scored after 42 seconds.

As the big names arrived under Bryan Robson's management, many of the London-based football writers sneered. Why, they asked, would anyone voluntarily go to Middlesbrough? There was widespread mirth when the wife of one Brazilian player suggested the town might not be one of the world's most beautiful places after all.

Now, with the excellent Steve Gibson as chairman, and Steve McClaren as manager, the club are producing an abundant crop of talented, home-grown, youngsters - 12 current players from Middlesbrough's academy who have made the first team come from within 20 miles of the Riverside. The team aren't always pretty to watch, and just a few weeks ago there were calls for McClaren's head. A few wins later, however, and a trip to Basle for a Uefa Cup quarter-final looms.

So here's my sales pitch: why not support the Boro? After all, Middlesbrough have had lots of Irish links. In the 1990s, Alan Kernaghan, Curtis Fleming, and our one-time scoring sensation, Bernie Slaven, all pulled on the green shirt of Ireland. Persuaded now?

Bernie's in that famous shot of the squad with Pope John-Paul II. As a Boro fan, you'd be original, you can fly Ryanair direct to the local airport, and, if you turn a blind eye to the current Premiership position, you'd be supporting a team that are going places. Hopefully not back to Hartlepool any time soon.

You'd be guaranteed excitement. They usually lose when you expect a win, and conjure victory when you're braced for certain defeat. This year, there have been those wins over the Premiership's big guns, plus home defeats to Sunderland and Aston Villa, and a 7-0 humiliation at Arsenal.

Each successful English team have in turn enjoyed enthusiastic support here in Ireland. From the successful sides of the 70s, 80s and 90s have come generations of Leeds fans, followed by Liverpool, Manchester United and Arsenal. A new swathe of Chelsea followers is doubtless growing up. Maybe Middlesbrough's recent heroics, combined with my own efforts to proselytize to anyone who'll listen, will persuade a few people.

So, in 2012, with Boro riding high in Uefa competitions for the seventh successive year, and an inaugural member of the European Super League, I foresee the following conversation. The venue could be any crowded, Dublin bar where Boro's latest game is being shown live on big screens:

Me, misty-eyed, raising my voice above the cheers: "Remember the bad old days when Middlesbrough were rubbish?"

Fellow Boro fans, all Irish, all wearing replica home shirts: "No, actually, we don't."

James Helm is BBC Dublin Correspondent.