Foolishly getting caught again. And again

TV VIEW:IT WAS George W Bush who once eloquently declared, "there's an old saying in Tennessee . . . I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee . . . that says, fool me once, shame on – shame on you. Fool me . . . you can't get fooled again".

We thought of George yesterday when they announced, a bit breathlessly, on RTÉ radio that Stephen Ireland was winging his way to Bari, partly, it seemed, in response to that woman who’d talked to Joe earlier in the week, revealing that she’d emailed young Stephen. “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country,” she’d said to him.

We were, to be honest about it, giddy with feverishness, this was like Saipan, the Cork hurling dispute and Nicolas Sarkozy’s hump with his G20 pals being resolved in one fell swoop. A “peace in our time” moment.

“I’m part Italian through my grandmother,” ‘Stephen’ explained, while not actually clarifying whether she was still of this earth. “So, it will also be a good chance to visit some of my relatives out there.”

Pride in the shirt! Of course, we texted manically to spread the good news, only to be pointed in the direction of the calendar. Having swallowed the story about Burger King’s left-handed Whopper a few years back – well, it sounded like a reasonable invention to us – it was a case of: you can get fooled again. And you don’t have to be from Tennessee.

“I know there’s an embargo on mentioning Andy Reid and Stephen Ireland, but . . . ,” said Eamon Dunphy, his homily rudely interrupted by Bill O’Herlihy, who seemed to have this mad notion that there was really no point in previewing Italy v Ireland by focusing on two players who would be playing as active a part in the night’s proceedings as Eamon, Bill and ourselves.

“How would you play the world champions?” asked Bill. “I don’t want to give you a smart-arsed answer, Bill,” Eamon deadpanned, “but I wouldn’t be starting from here – it’s like how do you get to Kerry, you turn the car south.” Bill mentioned something about getting to Kerry via Belfast, which left us thinking “that man needs a TomTom”.

Eamon, confident in the direction he was taking, declared the selection of Andy Keogh “ridiculous”, Paul McShane’s inclusion “bewildering”, while Keith Andrews and Glenn Whelan were “liabilities”.

The positive vibes had us purring. After John Giles analysed Ireland’s performance against Bulgaria, Bill was upbeat too. “Are you suggesting they are playing to instructions or they just haven’t a clue?,” he asked. Gilesie went for the first option, which left Bill asking “is there any danger we’ll be trashed tonight?” Gilesie reassured him – no, we wouldn’t be trashed, his prediction 2-0-ish to Italy.

Time for a quick pre-recorded interview with the Duracell bunny himself, Stephen Hunt. “Stop being so negative, certain people,” said he. Bill looked accusingly at his panel. They declared themselves innocent, Ronnie Whelan, in particular, taken aback by the charge. Prediction Ronnie? “I just can’t see us getting anything tonight, Bill,” he said.

Anthems time. They appeared to play both at the same time. “The Italians seemed to lose it somewhere between the pitch and the microphone,” noted George Hamilton, “if the Italian team functions as well as the band we’re in with a shout.”

True enough, Italy were a bit out of tune after two minutes when Giampaolo Pazzini was sent off for viciously elbowing John O’Shea in the face/for having his elbow assaulted by John O’Shea’s face. Apart from that, it was an uneventful start, if you exclude Italy scoring after nine minutes, Keogh and McShane’s combined defending proving that even Eamon can be right.

Second half. We huffed and we puffed and there was as much chance of us scoring as there was of Stephen Ireland coming on as a sub, armed with a left-handed Whopper. But then we scored. Fooled again.

“Time for a celebration, a sweaty one,’ said Bill, like ourselves perspiring with gobsmacked glee. Eamon was ecstatic too. “The Italians collapsed after they scored their goal . . . that’s the worst Italian team I’ve ever seen,” he said, in tribute to Ireland’s efforts.

“I think the coach made a couple of crazy decisions . . . taking off Kevin Doyle was lunatic asylum stuff . . . he was like a drunken gambler in a casino, Bill, just throwing chips on the table,” he added, reiterating his earlier declaration that Trapattoni’s appointment was the greatest day in the history of Irish football. Jeez, maybe it was. But you’d need a TomTom to guide you in the direction of the right answer. We’ll see. But, for now, count the points.