Goodbye to all that – An Irishman’s Diary about Mexican Waves and midgets

A conspicuous absentee from Sunday’s Ireland-England game – unless I nodded off and missed it – was our old friend, the Mexican Wave. Its absence was all the more curious, I thought, because conditions were ideal for at least one appearance, if not several.

There was a fairly full stadium, and it was an occasion devoid of tension. In fact, it was also devoid of what journalists call “incident”, so that as the game wore on the fans of both teams were in dire need of a stretch – the only legitimate excuse left for performing the wave.

I’ve been at games where attempted wave start-ups have been overruled by the more serious supporters, usually because there’s too much at stake on the pitch for frivolity.

But it was obvious for at least the last half hour on Sunday that the countries were heading for their now-traditional draw, and that furthermore, this would be the first scoreless draw in the fixture. Despite which, as far as I could see, there wasn’t so much as an aborted wave launch anywhere.

It might be premature yet to announce the wave’s demise at football matches. French supporters did one Sunday in Paris, apparently, and when their team was 1-4 down to Belgium. As a response to a national crisis, some of their more hardline fans considered it only slightly less treasonous than the wartime government in Vichy.

But if the wave is finally going out of fashion, I’ll be glad to see the back of it. I speak as one who was in at the start, or nearly. Despite its name, of course, the Mexican Wave had a prior existence (mostly in the US) before the 1986 World Cup. Even so, that’s when it went global.

And maybe it featured in some of Ireland’s Euro ’88 qualifiers, although I doubt it. It definitely didn’t happen in Stuttgart on that famous day. I was there, behind the goal we defended in the second half. And I’m sure there was no wave, because even the atheists among us were far too busy praying for lightning to hit Gary Lineker.

Wave launch

So I believe I participated in what was the first ever Irish wave launch – 38 minutes into the game against the Soviet Union in Hannover three days later.

Maybe it helped distract the Soviet defence a few moments later. But if so, there was a price.

We we were so preoccupied with throwing our arms in the air at the right moment that we missed Ronnie Whelan’s goal at the opposite end of the ground. I’ve never forgiven the wave for that.

Anyway, maybe the phenomenon is at last going the same way as the chanting of "Olé, Olé, Olé, Olé", which I also haven't witnessed for a while. Or indeed of "Here we go, here we go, here we go", once de rigueur at all major Irish sports events, but now a museum piece.

McGuigan and Pedroza

I was reminded of the latter chant’s heyday by this week’s anniversary of another famous occasion, the one 30 years ago when Barry McGuigan beat Eusebio Pedroza to win a world boxing title.

In fact, most of the events of that night were still as fresh in memory as when they first happened – the theme from Rocky accompanying McGuigan to the ring; the intimidating aura of Pedroza; the spine-tingling rendition of Danny Boy; there not being a dry eye in the house afterwards.

The bit I’d forgotten, until reliving it on YouTube, was the leprechaun incident. Or as the BBC’s Harry Carpenter described it live: “And a midget! An Irish midget prances around the ring as McGuigan is announced!”

Yes, in an atrocity that had long been erased from the Betamax tape of memory, but which I was now revisiting with 21st-century sensibilities, a person with the condition known as dwarfism, dressed in lurid green, performed a jig between the boxers just before the bell for round one.

His outfit didn’t even have what one might call “leprechaun chic”, of the kind now available in souvenir shops. There was still no designer leprechaun gear outside America then, obviously. So the little man had to improvise with football shorts and whatever else he could find.

Different era

Oh well. The hairstyles of that time are hard to justify now too. It was a whole different era. Why, that same year, three months before the McGuigan fight, England beat the Republic of Ireland in a soccer match for what remains – to date – the last time. It was a routine occurrence then. But try telling kids that today.

@FrankmcnallyIT