Sonia O’Sullivan: Win over All Blacks shows nothing is impossible

For all the media and super-information at our fingertips these days maybe we’re not as connected or as up to date as we think. And maybe sometimes the old-fashioned ways are still the best.

I’m often chasing between time zones, from Australia to back home or somewhere in between, catching up on news and sporting events, although everything about this US presidential count unfolded in real time.

I can’t remember any election that had the attention of so many people globally, the enigma that is Donald Trump somehow managing to defy all the odds, all the exit polls, and come out victorious.

For a change, it wasn’t the middle of the night in Australia, the final count taking place all day, and it was impossible not to get regular updates – on the phone, on the radio, while on the daily run around. And it certainly wasn’t what the media had predicted, none of their information connected with the end result.

I was home just in time for the final result, sat glued to the TV, still expecting the numbers to change, only for the impossible to happen. It was certainly one of those days when you remember where you were and what you were doing, without the words to comprehend how this could happen.

I still can’t work out how Trump won, and I haven’t come across a single person to say anything positive about it. Maybe the old-fashioned method of communication would give a better view of who voted, because they’re obviously not online.

The impossible

It felt like the complete opposite to how events unfolded last weekend, as I was trying to keep track of the Ireland-New Zealand rugby match, although in the end it also seemed like the impossible had happened.

I was at a concert in Melbourne on Saturday night, not your normal sort of concert, but a ‘house’ concert. I’d never been to one before, and only realised when I got there it was an intimate concert, in the living room, with floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the Melbourne skyline as the evening was fading into night.

Eleanor McEvoy provided the entertainment for the evening, and seeing her perform up close reminded me of that feeling you get seeing athletes run ‘live’, rather than on TV.

It was a mostly Australian audience, plus a few Irish, and before leaving I got chatting to a New Zealander. And of course straight up asked him was he aware that Ireland were taking on the All Blacks in Chicago the next day.

With that I was met with a vacant look, total curiosity: why was such an event taking place in Chicago?

That hadn’t crossed my mind. To me, the connection was obvious, Chicago being one of the more well-known Irish cities in the US, given the fact they turn the Chicago River green on St Patrick’s Day. Anyway we worked out the time difference and guessed it would be mid-afternoon on Sunday, Melbourne time, when the game kicked off.

There was no mention at all of the game in Australia, and it’s hard to fathom that when you know there’s radio and TV coverage back home in Ireland, and just over the water in New Zealand, plus all the hype for the 62,300 fans packed into Soldier Field .

I went to bed without checking the kick-off time, assuming it would be around lunch time, our time, and by then I’d be back from the long morning bike ride in the Dandenongs.

As it turned, the game was already started by the time I woke up. Ireland were leading, early on, although the only way to follow the action was on Twitter or some updates on a New Zealand radio station.

I searched around trying to find a live stream but none of them worked, so it was back to the old-fashioned way, only instead of live radio it was live on Twitter, the updates and reaction from the many different followers from all around the world.

Strange feeling

By half-time Ireland were up 25-8, and I was wondering would I get out on the bike at all that morning. I’d already missed the 6am group so I’d be riding solo.

Instead I was grounded to the spot, the laptop on the counter, the phone next to it, drinking coffee, munching on some muesli, the All Blacks starting to claw their way back into it, my entire morning on hold.

Still, even as the All Blacks were eating into the lead, Ireland were not about to be overtaken, somehow kept forging ahead. Our dog, Snowy, also looked up at me, as if realising there’d be no morning walk for him either.

The energy was building, the momentum still with Ireland. New Zealand were suddenly in unfamiliar territory, playing catch up but losing ground and running out of time. After all the talk of the Chicago Cubs rewriting the sporting history books after 108 years, here was Ireland’s chance to do the same.

The New Zealand radio commentators were getting very excited . . .10 minutes to go, still some hope. My daughter Sophie was looking over my shoulder to: ‘How long more to go? 10 minutes? Still 10 minutes? You said that five minutes ago...’

At last the final whistle was blown, Ireland matching the Cubs in their own way – ending the 111-year wait to beat New Zealand.

It’s a strange feeling to think about people watching back in Ireland, cheering and celebrating into the night, when you’re just waking up, the game now suddenly over. The best way to deal with it was to get out on the bike, use up some of the energy, keep the adrenalin and endorphins flowing.

My time was limited now, so it would be a short and fast bike ride. Leaving on a positive frame of mind like that, you feel like you can do anything, chasing the personal bests on Strava, inspiring ideas running around in your head.

After two quick laps of the Boulevard I started on the cruise home, then crossed path with another cyclist wearing an Irish rugby jersey. We smiled and waved, realising we were both sharing in this uplifting mood.

Even without access to any pictures that morning, it felt like there was a lot of collective energy and support for the Irish team, from across the world.

No one knows how all this feeds or adds to the belief and energy within the team, but with so many people feeding off each other like that, maybe the impossible does becomes a little bit easier.

I’d just love to know who was feeding all the positive energy towards Donald Trump.