Erik ten Hag’s tinmen are no match for Ireland’s cross-country folk

TV View: A week after running a marathon, Fionnuala McCormack showed Manchester United how to muck things up gloriously

It was turning into a bit of a rubbish weekend. There was Connacht’s mullering by Bordeaux, Ulster’s throttling by Bath and Munster’s 17-17 defeat by Bayonne. And then the wonder that is Fionnuala McCormack finished fourth for the fifth – fifth! – time at the European Cross-Country Championships. The sporting Gods were taking the mick.

Mind you, having run a marathon only the week before, and it being less than six months after she had her third child, 39-year-old McCormack’s performance was a stunner. If those sporting Gods had a soul, they’d have rewarded her with a medal of some class of hue.

“I’d imagine she’s a very busy lady with three small children, and fitting in the training as well ... she has little ones coming from all angles,” said Catherina McKiernan on RTÉ.

“She must have a great husband,” said Rob Heffernan, risking a slap.

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Most of us would have struggled to walk on that Brussels sludge, nevermind run speedily through it, but these cross-country folk are an entirely different breed. Despite it all looking close enough to torture, Fionnuala smiled when she talked to David Gillick. “Part of me actually enjoyed it out there,” she said.

Which was also the gist of the muck-covered under-20 lads’ take on their experience after they only went and won team gold. If mud is good for your skin, then Harry Colbert will have the complexion of a baby’s bottom, the fella encased in the stuff when he and his team-mates spoke to Gillick.

“I had a great time out there,” said Jonas Stafford.

Yes, yes, a different breed.

As, incidentally, are TG4′s camera people. Not even Storm Fergus could prevent them from bringing us coverage of the penalty shoot-out in the Munster football final when the wind sent the rain in a horizontal version, into the faces of the Castlehaven and Dingle goalies who risked ending up in Outer Mongolia.

And up in Armagh, TG4 were in severe need of windscreen wipers when they tried to show us Glen seeing off Scotstown in the Ulster final, their cameras pockmarked with raindrops the size of elephant footprints, their heroic battle with the elements at times leaving viewers a little on the seasick side.

All of this minimised TNT Sports’ Alastair Eykyn’s complaints about the “filthy” weather over in La Rochelle, where Leinster renewed their rivalry with their European Cup nemesis. Or their “hate”, as Craig Doyle put it. That seemed excessive, until the handbags early-ish in the first half. True enough, no love lost.

Leinster won, which lifted the rugby spirits after the weekend that was, RTÉ opting to soundtrack their outro for Munster’s draw with Bayonne, in which they’d been 14-3 up at half-time and made a bags of the second half, with the Pogues’ Haunted. There was, then, no fairy-tale ending to the start of their Champions Cup campaign.

But look, at least they’re not Manchester United.

“God almighty,” was the gist of Damien Delaney and Kenny Cunningham’s post-match summary of United’s display against Bournemouth, which Premier Sports broadcast on Saturday, Damien especially exercised about Anthony Martial and why he even still exists.

Over on Sky later, Jamie Redknapp was no less perplexed.

“I’m almost running out of things to say, I genuinely don’t know what to think about Man United any more. Ten Hag gets manager of the month, Harry Maguire gets player of the month, and they lose 3-0 at home to Bournemouth – no disrespect to them.”

That was, of course, disrespectful to Bournemouth who, with the assistance of United, looked like the Brazil side of the 1970s.

“It’s a bit like Coronation Street,” Jamie continued. “But I think if Coronation Street looked at some of these plots they’d say, ‘na, that’s not believable’.”

And, in fairness, a front three of Hilda Ogden, Jack Duckworth and Roy Cropper would have given Bournemouth more grief.

They are, then, in deep doo-doo. But as our cross-country runners proved, if your heart’s big enough you can make your way through the deepest of muck. You need a heart, though, and Erik Ten Hag seems to be discovering that most of his boys don’t actually possess one.