IT was to have been the best day of his career. Alan Gough had never felt so `up' for a game in his life. Nineteen minutes into the FAI Cup final, the Shelbourne keeper's world caved in when he was sent off.
He was a condemned man until Tony Sheridan turned state governor and granted him a reprieve as dramatic as anything Hollywood has ever thrown up in one of those grainy old black and white classics.
Rejuvenated, and itching for tomorrow's replay at Dalymount Park, Gough can point out that not alone are he and Shelbourne still in the Cup but, more cheekily, he hasn't conceded a goal in their arduous Cup odyssey (away to Premier Division opposition in every round up to the final).
It's as if he wasn't on death row after all. It was just a bad dream. Now the mood of last week is returning. A mite more guardedly perhaps, Gough is back to his effervescent self, and throwing himself around in training.
"I swear to God, we worked so hard. We were up to our shoulders in muck. It was frightening the amount of work we put in and for that to happen. I was peaking. I was spot on. I was really looking forward to the game and I was too sharp, if you know what happened, for what happened."
"Agh, it was the worst feeling I've ever had on a football pitch. The only thing I can put in comparison was my dad dying. The world just fell in on me. The proverbial hole? I wanted to just dive into it. You know I have a laugh and I love a joke, but I love my hall at the end of the day. For that to happen.
He cried coming off the pitch. In the dressing room the team doctor Alan Byrne put his arms around a distraught Gough. At half time Sheridan came in, stretched out on the dressing room bench and asked Gough to stretch his hamstrings.
"I'll get you a goal today," said Sheridan.
"Leave it Shero," said an inconsolable Gough, walking away.
Undeterred, Shero puts his arm around him as the Shelbourne players leave for the second half. I'll get you a goal today," he repeats.
Gough watched the second half from the directors' box. His reluctant deputy, Brian Flood, by his own admission, made a mistake Gough wouldn't have when he launched an Eddie Gormley free at Dave Campbell's calf and it's in the net. 1-0 to St Patrick's. Sheer hell. Even Ollie Byrne was telling him to calm down. "And then he's gone and done it," says Gough of the wonderboy Sheridan.
Afterwards, the converted keeper, Flood, said the sending off ruined his day and Gough's. Unbeknown to most, it ruined Pat Kelly's too. The domestic game's outstanding referee didn't want to end his career on that note. On mature recollection, Gough can appreciate that now.
"I've no bad feeling toward Pat Kelly. I've always had a great rapport with Pat Kelly. As a referee, I think everyone would acknowledge that he's been the best in the League of Ireland. If I met him now I'd be the first man to shake his hand and buy him a pint. I know he was upset by it and by the letter of the law, I had to go.
Nevertheless, the second sending off of his career would have seemed a whole lot worse but for the reprieve of a replay. "If we had been beaten 1-0, I would have been in the Liffey, with about 16 stone weighing me down."
The irony is that goalkeepers have a reputation for being over protected. In aerial combat, maybe, but when it comes to the application of FIFA's directive on denying an opposing player a probable goalscoring opportunity (whether intentionally or not) they risk becoming an endangered species. Brian Kerr suggested to me a year or so ago that goalkeepers should form a union to protect themselves.
The Mark Beeney sending off at Old Trafford was the ultimate, for if he did take the ball outside the area it was barely by an inch or so. "The way I look at it is, a centre half can decapitate a centre forward inside the penalty box. A penalty is given and a low card is issued. That's standard procedure."
"A goalkeeper comes one on one with a centre forward, mistimes his tackle by that (Gough places his forefinger and thumb a fraction apart) and unintentionally clips his ankle. Immediately a red card is shown."
Aggrieved or not, goalkeepers have an unofficial union of their own and you have to be mad to be one. "I'm not the full shilling, concedes Gough, an emotional, sensitive young man who exudes a charmingly youthful self confidence that could be misplaced as arrogance. He's still the noisy life blood of the Shelbourne dressing room, his improved girth and form (making him the best keeper in the League this season) making him, literally, a less sizeable target for slagging.
"I don't think in many walks of life you're going to get too many people who fancy diving down people's feet, getting balls whacked at them at 80 or 90 miles an hour. But I wouldn't change it. I love it. I really do. I love getting dirty. There's no greater feeling."
Born in England, but raised in Cutbush, Kildare, Gough first took to goalkeeping when playing gaelic. "I was actually a better gaelic footballer than I was a goal keeper. I was the same height at 16 as I am now (5 feet 11 inches). If I had stayed with it I would have done a bit of damage."
Good hands, and good distribution made him adept enough as a keeper to break into the Newbridge Town football team at 15. In his second season they won the Leinster Junior League premier division and two Cups. At 17 he was getting attention.
John Fallon tapped him and he went to Spurs on trial, but Ian Walker was a year younger and already earmarked as something special, then on to Leicester but he took umbrage when David Pleat called him "John" when offering him a contract.
Bournemouth came in too, but he returned home to complete his leaving before heading off to Portsmouth tee day after his debs. I had tour years in Portsmouth and never played in the first team. I felt a little bit inferior. If I'd had a grounding in the League of Ireland, like Paul McGrath or Curtis Fleming, I'd recommend that so much now, because you don't know whether you can do it or not."
From there, he spent a year at Fulham to satisfy his thirst for first team football and they offered him another three year contract. But my dad had just died, and I was all over the shop. I wanted to chuck the game in. I'd played a record number of reserve team games. I was a legend in the old Football Combination. I really was. I knew all the groundsmen. It's no good going to Highbury if there's only 20 people there. No good to you."
"I played against the likes of Glenn Hoddle but I knew they weren't giving it their best at that level. I felt cheated. I'm playing at a worse level now but I know everyone's giving it their best."
So he came home three years ago, had an excellent and busy season in goal for a spirited Galway side which finished third before moving on to Shelbourne the close season before last.
Like many a National league player (team mates like Greg Costello and Sheridan, potentially his most dangerous opponent tomorrow Eddie Gormley) he's a more complete player and person now than when playing in England.
A Cup winner's medal would be the ultimate reward, and the ultimate reprieve.
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