An Irishman's Diary

THINGS are looking grim for Fianna Fáil, to say the least. But after a traumatic week and as the party faces a potentially torturous election campaign, perhaps it can seek inspiration from the world of sport, in particular the sport that the beleaguered Taoiseach himself once played, back in the early 1980s.

No, I’m not thinking of his county’s sensational last-minute All-Ireland victory against Kerry in 1982. After all, there’s no suggestion that the 2011 Brian Cowen has a Seamus Darby on the bench. And even if he had, the Greens would surely prevent him making the substitution.

As a footballing metaphor for this week’s extraordinary events, I was thinking more about the 1983 All-Ireland final, distinguished as it was by Dublin playing most of the second half with only 12 men. Yes, that’s still a lot more players that the outgoing Cabinet now has. But I’m clutching at straws on Fianna Fáil’s behalf, so bear with me.

As older readers may remember, the 1983 final was played in extremely blustery conditions – another parallel with Thursday's proceedings in the Dáil. So windy was it that at one point of the first half, according to The Irish Timesmatch report, Galway's Gay McManus "careered in from the left, but with a goal imminent, his shot quite astonishingly turned away like a boomerang".

There in a nutshell (albeit from the wrong team, metaphorically) you have this week’s ill-fated attempt at a reshuffle. Cowen also produced his idea from left-field. It also involved careering activity. And it ultimately rebounded in his face.

But those similarities with 1983 aside, it’s in the performance of a team with severely depleted numbers that I suggest the contemporary Fianna Fáil might find cause for cheer.

Dublin’s problems began that day when midfield enforcer Brian Mullins – the Dermot Ahern of the side – was sent off on 27 minutes. Shortly afterwards, Dublin’s Ray Hazley and Galway’s Thomas Tierney were both lined after a scuffle. Then, five minutes into the second-half, the Dubs were further depopulated when Ciaran Duff was dismissed for an assault on an opposition spokesman.

As with the bizarre events of last Thursday, it proved impossible for the Dublin team management – headed by a man who, with uncanny contemporary resonance, was nicknamed “Heffo” – to replace any of the departed players. So the remaining team members had to take up the slack instead.

If I remember correctly, Dublin’s other midfielder Jim Ronayne assumed Mullins’s responsibilities, (which could be loosely summarised as “social protection”) in addition to his own. Full-back Gerry Hargan was assigned the defence portfolio vacated by corner-back Hazley. And Barney Rock and Joe McNally between them assumed Duff’s duties (“energy”, and “natural resources”), on a job-share basis.

Thereafter Dublin fought a famously gutsy rearguard action. And despite having the wind at their backs and vastly superior resources, the Connacht champions – obvious shades of Enda Kenny and Eamon Gilmore there – could not defeat them.

WHERE THIS metaphor of hope breaks down from the current Government’s viewpoint is that Dublin had a big lead going into the second half of that game. Thus they had something to defend (other than the indefensible, which will make up much of Fianna Fáil’s election manifesto). Also the “Dirty Dozen”, as they became known, were at least united. And confidence doesn’t seem to have been an issue for any of them, either.

The outgoing Government, by contrast, has all these problems. As GAA people well realise, inter-club rivalries can often work against unity at county level. And everybody knows that Cowen (Na Fianna) was finding it hard to play alongside

John Gormley (Kilmacud

Croaks – sic), even before this week’s dressing-room incident in which the latter tied the former’s boot-laces together, causing him to fall on his face while running out onto the pitch.

Unfortunately, Cowen cannot even rely on his own club-mates any more. Take Conor Lenihan, for example. A natural entertainer, Lenihan’s mazy solo run that began on Thursday afternoon and was still going strong yesterday is in many ways typical of the man. But, much as spectators enjoyed it, it would undoubtedly have been of more assistance to his team had he been running in the right direction.

Still, a game is never over until the final whistle blows, a fact that at least one member of the Dáil opposition – Jimmy Deenihan – will never forget. Brian Cowen would be less than human if he did not still cling to hope. Or if, in these difficult times, he did not do what we all do occasionally and wallow in nostalgia for his glory days.

It’s surely beyond the bounds of possibility that Biffo’s Heroes – or Zeroes as most people would now characterise them – could yet pull off a victory. But success is relative, especially where he finds himself. And in his wildest imaginings, the Taoiseach must still dream about a game-changing moment, as a result of which he could at least keep the scoreline respectable.