Author: rorymcgimpsey

I am a freelance writer who has written extensively on sport, specifically rugby. Since 2012, I've contributed match reports, opinion pieces, and articles for the websites, Planet Rugby and InsideIreland.ie. My other interests include music, current affairs, and history.

Donald Trumps The Odds

It’s had a few days to sink in, but there’s still a feeling of unreality about Donald Trump’s historic victory in the U.S. presidential election. How could the pundits and pollsters have got it so wrong? How could Hillary’s vote have crumbled so decisively in the key swing states? In a time of such global uncertainty, how could the U.S. electorate choose a president as divisive and controversial as Trump? So many questions. And in a sense it doesn’t matter what the answers are. Regardless of the consequences, Trump is what we’ve got. It’s happened. Not just America, but the entire world has to make this work.

In highlighting some of the more contentious utterances that have emanated from team Trump in the last couple of years, the western world  has been left genuinely aghast at how the ultimate maverick has come to power. “What has happened to American civilisation?”the masses yell. “How could anyone elect Donald Trump knowing his bizarre plans to build a border wall and his polarising attitude to immigration?” Apophenia is the human tendency so see patterns and trends where none exist. As a rule, the temptation to generalise should be studiously avoided. After all, every human experience is unique and the product of a very specific set of circumstances. That’s why I’m reticent to join the chorus linking Trump’s victory to the Brexit referendum and other recent events. Like any presidential election, 2016 was the result of a series of internal stimuli and catalysts that are unique to the vast north American continent.

However, while proceeding with caution, I think there’s a discernible connection between Trump’s election and June’s Brexit referendum. It’s hardly an original thought, but Brexit and the presidential election betray a western population that’s becoming increasingly disillusioned with political norms and conventions. It’s not so much that people are fed up with mainstream political parties and individuals, but disgusted with them. What we’re seeing isn’t a mere dismissal of political orthodoxy, but a complete and unapologetic disdain for it. Protest voting on a truly global scale. Ordinary people are giving a metaphorical two fingers to the political establishment. We saw it with Brexit and again in last week’s election results.

Political norms and conventions are being rejected en masse as hordes of people express their disillusionment and antipathy at the polls. In the modern era, there seems to be very little respect for institutions and establishments any more. Politicians, businessmen, bankers, lawyers, financiers. No-one is immune. “Why should we have respect for any of them, all they do is screw us and look after their own interests?” That seems to be the prevailing attitude.  And here’s the rub. In their apathy and disillusion, voters aren’t giving up on democracy and becoming beleaguered with submission. They’re turning to some very unorthodox and unconventional alternatives instead. Farage in Britain, Trump in the States. It’s all part of a similar and wholly related phenomenon.

When people are so fed up up with the political mainstream that they vote for a candidate like Trump, you know there’s a problem. So, this is your anti-establishment candidate. A billionaire property magnate who’s the very image of privilege; a man with a giant bank balance to match his inflated ego. Hardly my definition of working class. That’s the point. Ordinary people are so fed up with low wages, limited opportunities and economic disasters, they’re prepared to countenance anyone who sounds plausible enough as a solution. How else can you explain the meteoric rise of statesman Trump? Controversial businessman. Reality t.v. star. Trump is a perfect fit for all these roles. But President? It’s taken a unique and unprecedented set of conditions to bring the hitherto unthinkable scenario to pass.

In a way Donald Trump is a president for our times. You get the leaders you deserve and this generation has got the Donald. It’s not a coincidence. In a scene from the brilliant 1980s movie Back To the Future, time traveller Marty McFly finds himself in the unfamiliar terrain of 1955 and seeks out the younger version of his eccentric scientist friend, Doc Brown, the man who built his De Lorean time machine. Naturally enough, Brown is suspicious of the young visitor claiming to be from the future and sets about asking some questions to prove his identity. “Who’s the president in 1985?, inquires Brown. “Ronald Reagan”, replies McFly. “Ronald Reagan, the actor?” exclaims an incredulous Brown-I’m reciting from memory here, so excuse me if I’m not verbatim. Eventually, though, the doc is convinced of McFly’s bona fides and realises the error of his ways. The penny’s dropped. “Of course your president is an actor, he has to spend most of his time on t.v.!” Ditto Trump. The Donald is the president for the reality t.v. generation. This is a world where substance is sacrificed for big talk and banal promises. Trump is the personification of our modern false reality.

What about Hillary? Well, it was Clinton who suffered most from voter weariness and anger with mainstream politicians and parties. I must admit I don’t feel sorry for her at all. Yes, Hillary’s lost out on the job of her dreams for a last time, but this is a mess entirely of her own making. While Mrs Clinton’s innate shortage of charisma and charm is well-documented, voters were also put off by her obvious and unapologetic sense of entitlement. Last week’s election result was an emphatic rejection of the Bush/Clinton duopoly and presidential carve-up that’s dominated the most prestigious office in the world for the last 15 years.

Yes, perseverance and stubbornness are desirable traits, but sometimes it pays to heed the public’s message. It had been signposted for years that there was no appetite for a Hillary presidency and yet the indomitable Clinton kept on coming. Never mind that she’d been consistently rejected, Hillary refused to give up. This was her turn. Except it wasn’t. The U.S. electorate ensured that. Would it have worked anyway? It’s hard to imagine Bill as “First Man”. Which reminds me of a quote from an unnamed Clinton aide years ago opining why a Hillary presidency wouldn’t work. Re: Bill Clinton: “He’s Gladys Knight. He’s not a pip.” That just about sums it up.

The winds of change are blowing throughout the world. And that’s a good thing. We shouldn’t be too cynical. People are questioning orthodoxy, challenging authority, contesting preconceptions and refusing to do what they’re told. It doesn’t feel that way, but Brexit and the Trump victory are triumphs for democracy in their own idiosyncratic ways. These seemingly earth shattering and cataclysmic events show that populism works, that change can be effected if you want it badly enough. If you’re disaffected by economic turmoil, low wages, and foreign policy misadventures, 2016 affirms categorically that the one lever for change at your disposal-your vote-can still make a difference. And that is quite a heartening thought. It’s a pity that this popular will has only been used thus far to promote eccentric and dubious causes. It’ll get really interesting, though, when the penny drops that people can use their newly found voice to do some good in this troubled world.

File:Trump and Rodman 2009.jpg

Image Courtesy of Wikipedia By OPEN Sports [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Twitter: @rorymcgimpsey

Schmidt’s Boys Make History

We all wondered how the streak would end. Nothing lasts forever. All good things come to their natural conclusion at some point in time. No-one expected it to be yesterday, though. The Irish rugby team’s trip to Chicago to take on the mighty All Blacks was understandably billed as mission impossible. Yes, the trip was important in terms of marketing and global rugby politics; a sort of evangelist mission to take the oval ball game to one of the sport’s final frontiers. And of course a trip to see the sights of Chicago in the beautiful autumnal sunshine is never something to be sniffed at. But no-one expected Schmidt’s boys to win. Nobody. Not even the most ardent Ireland supporter.

You have to consider the context to understand this lack of optimism. New Zealand are the current world champions and have just completed the Rugby Championship unbeaten, amassing ludicrously large scores in the process. When the All Blacks defeated Australia a couple of weeks ago, the New Zealanders set a new world record of 18 consecutive Test wins. Such was their aura of invincibility, many pundits hailed these All Blacks as the greatest team ever to play the game. The very best.

Irish excuses were ready made and well prepared in advance. The travel, injuries, lack of game time for key men, truncated preparation, limited time together, jet lag…..I could go on. It was even mooted that Schmidt regarded the Chicago expedition as no more than a hit out, a shot to nothing and was targeting the forthcoming game in Dublin as Ireland’s more realistic chance of victory. With the Irish written off in all quarters, therefore, a New Zealand victory was seen as a virtual fait accompli. Ireland tore the pre-ordained script into a thousand pieces; the world champions falling unwittingly into Joe Schmidt’s unexpected ambush.

In writing a blog, I try very hard to avoid the treacherous world of sports writing cliches. It’s easy to fall into the trap. You know the sort of thing: “The boys done good, the crowd were the 16th man, Chicago was painted green last night etc….” All that meaningless nonsense. I don’t believe in unnecessary hype or exaggeration, either. If a story is strong enough or has enough resonance, it tells itself. No amplification is needed. When everyone else is getting carried away, I always strive to be realistic and measured.

I haven’t watched the game again yet, but my initial impression is that I can’t remember a better Irish performance. That’s why I’m unusually reticent to play this one down. Ireland not only beat a great New Zealand team, they dominated them for large portions of the game. And even when the All Blacks stormed back into it in the second half-as was inevitable-the men in green still had the mental fortitude and resilience to close it out. If this was one of the best Irish performances ever, it was because it simply had to be. Nothing else would be sufficient against one of the standout rugby teams of any era.

Ireland were wonderful. Schmidt’s bespoke game plan was implemented to perfection. Contrary to presumptions, the Irish kept the ball in hand and switched the point of attack with immaculate precision. In coordinating the effort, half-backs’ Johnny Sexton and Conor Murray were outstanding. Their endeavour was matched by Ireland’s magnificent forwards, who bossed the Kiwis in most areas throughout the game.

New Zealand’s makeshift second row made them susceptible to Irish pressure and Schmidt conceded last night that Ireland’s greater experience in the engine room allowed “access” into the game. In truth, it did much more than that. Ireland’s set-piece ascendancy enabled them to achieve unprecedented levels of dominance in the first half. What’s more,the front row of McGrath, Best and Furlong put in mammoth shifts in both loose and tight play. They were awesome. And Jordi Murphy was the embodiment of athleticism and industry before injury cruelly curtailed his afternoon; the Irish openside being replaced by the equally effective Josh van der Flier. Furthermore, the performance was buttressed by a herculean defensive effort that defied belief.

And what about Rob Kearney? The Louth man has been criticised by all and sundry recently, with his place in the team openly questioned. Yesterday, the Irish fullback reminded us what a classy and intelligent player he is. But they were all great. They really were. Henshaw, Zebo, Trimble et al. Heck, I should just list the entire squad and be done with it! The glue that keeps it all together is Ireland’s indomitable captain, Rory Best. Strangely enough, the Ulster hooker still has his detractors after years of consistent excellence in an Irish shirt. I can only assume these critics suffer from some form of visual impairment. Best is a wonderful rugby player and a consummate leader to boot. No-one does more for this Irish team than the reliable Ulster man.

I’m pleased for Best on a personal level. It’s somehow fitting that he led the Irish to their first Test win over New Zealand. One of the privileges of covering local rugby is you get to meet the players. While all players are extremely polite, some are a little different to how you imagined them. You get the impression that some rugby players (either consciously or unconsciously) adopt a bit of a media persona. Not Best. What you see is what you get. A man of complete modesty and humility. He deserves this moment. Think of all the great players and captains who competed against the All Blacks, but came up short. Best’s achievement is indeed remarkable. The former Portadown College pupil has delivered the goods.

And let’s not forget the mastermind behind it all; the architect of Ireland’s finest win. Joe Schmidt has copped his fair share of criticism, but this win is a timely reminder of the Kiwi’s coaching talents. Who knows how long he’s been planning this carefully constructed ambush. If this is what Schmidt can do with restricted preparation, we should be very excited about the next few weeks. The World Cup quarter-final seems a long time ago now. Ireland’s opponents should be worried. The best coach in world rugby has got his mojo back and I doubt he’s in any mood to stop here.

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

 

File:Rory Best 2015 RWC.jpg

Image Courtesy of Wikipedia: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ARory_Best_2015_RWC.jpg

By Warwick Gastinger (Rugby World Cup 2015 DSCN5033) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons”

Hillary’s Trump Card!

“Hobson’s Choice: A choice of taking what is available or nothing at all.”

In a nutshell, that is the dilemma facing American voters when they take to the polls on 8 November for the U.S. Presidential election that will choose their next leader. A choice that seems like no real option at all, between two candidates who inspire apathy at best, nausea at worst. To say it’s an unenviable prospect is an understatement of epic proportions. What’s the alternative to choosing between two distinctly unappealing candidates? Staying at home? For a nation that prides itself as a bastion of democracy, there must always be a compelling reason to exercise the democratic franchise previous generations struggled to attain. Alternatively, voters can plump for Gary Johnson. However, with the Libertarian candidate all but out of the contest, where is the merit in that action? When all’s said and done, no matter how it’s diced, the 2016 Presidential election boils down to a simple, inescapable choice: Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump. Hobson’s choice indeed.

The overriding narrative of the campaign thus far has been a seemingly obsessive determination to keep the controversial Trump out of the White House at all costs. Until last week, the Republican nominee’s chances of victory still seemed remote, but with only a week left to attract voters, all indications suggest that the maverick businessman is closing the gap on his more illustrious rival. An ABC News/Washington Post poll remarkably has Trump leading by a percentage point over the Democratic nominee. Indeed, Clinton’s aggregate lead (at the time of writing) could even be as low as two points, depending on which pollster you listen to. All of a sudden, the heretofore unthinkable scenario involving a Trump victory is looking more plausible by the day. While a Trump win remains pretty unlikely, the outcome dreaded by many citizens in the U.S. and beyond is far from impossible. Quite a remarkable turn of events. However, as the recent Brexit vote demonstrated, improbable outcomes should never be discounted in politics.

So, what’s going on? Although Trump is ostensibly a mainstream candidate, his journey to presidential nomination is that of the definitive political outsider. Despite his ratification as a candidate by the Grand Old Party, Trump is undoubtedly a maverick and eccentric; a candidate who’s the very antithesis of political orthodoxy. While it’s easy to characterise Trump’s ambitious march to the White House as the ultimate manifestation of an oversized ego that’s spiralling out of control, his nomination is symbolic of a wider trend that’s both global and increasingly prevalent. Mr Trump’s campaign is indicative of a deepening disillusionment with establishment politics and mainstream political faces. After all, you can’t get any more “establishment” than  the GOP and yet they’ve opted for the most unorthodox candidate imaginable to square off against Hillary for the presidency. Many commentators had earmarked 2016 as an election that was eminently winnable for the Republicans and yet they’ve staked their modern political reputation on a man that courts controversy like it’s going out of fashion. Allegations of misogyny, confusion over immigration and an allegedly reprehensible attitude to Islam. None of these excesses have derailed the Trump campaign in any significant way.

Cynicism with establishment politics is evident throughout the world at the moment. It’s one of the primary drivers of the UKIP expansion into British politics and is further evidenced by the plethora of independent candidates contesting Irish elections, for example. On a more local level, disenchantment with mainstream politics was seen in the last Stormont election, where Gerry Carroll topped the poll in West Belfast for People Before Profit. If the establishment parties aren’t listening to these outcries, they should be. Voters are becoming increasingly disillusioned with political norms and conventions, and they’re turning to some extremely unorthodox alternatives as a consequence. Global recessions, economic meltdowns and unjustifiable wars have all played their part. As has declining standards of living for millions of ordinary people who feel that traditional politicians no longer represent them or their interests. Political mavericks who previously wouldn’t have stood a chance of electoral success are reaping the rewards for voter apathy and disillusionment. The upcoming U.S. election has become the unlikely nexus of this popular disdain.

The success of Trump is just one manifestation of this crisis of political confidence. A victory that once seemed absurd and preposterous is now potentially only a week away. Clinton’s inherent lack of charm and warmth is only part of the problem. Many voters are utterly fed up with the obnoxious Bush/Clinton duopoly that’s dominated the most prestigious political office in the world for over 15 years. Only Obama’s underwhelming tenure has interrupted the relentless advancement of these wealthy familial dynasties. Perhaps this is why Republicans unexpectedly anointed Trump as their nominee. He wasn’t Jeb Bush. What applies to Republican grandees, is equally true of ordinary voters. Trump represents the ultimate outsider and maverick. This is the reason the Clinton camp must fear him. Trump can win on 8 November. Make no mistake about that.

Clinton, on the other hand, seems tired and battle weary in comparison. The unfortunate allusions to her health may be somewhat below the belt, but they’ve fuelled the perception of a candidate lacking a certain freshness and energy. Certainly, it seems a lifetime since Hillary’s old man announced himself as a “bridge to the future.” The entire Clinton project seems rather jaded from the halcyon days when Bill’s charisma and charm endeared all and sundry with its universal appeal. For all that, Hillary is still the devil we all know, if you excuse my clumsy turn of phrase. A safe pair of hands that is better trusted with an office that, although diminished, is still the most important in world politics. Will Clinton’s constancy and perceived reliability be enough to finally accede to the job of her dreams in what’s surely her last chance? Or will the ultimate outsider pull off one of the greatest electoral upsets of all time? History beckons for Mrs Clinton, but the polls are too close to permit anyone sleeping easy. Despite an unfortunate lack of box office appeal, Hillary has one last trump card. She is not Donald. That may be enough to see her home by a whisker and allow the rest of us to breathe a massive sigh of relief.

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

 

 

 

For Axel, they stood up and fought!

As expected, it was a match brimming with emotion. It’s cliched to talk about blood, sweat and tears. But all three elements were abundantly obvious in Thomond Park yesterday. Of course the occasion was poignant and sombre. Paradoxically though, there was something incredibly joyous about yesterday afternoon, a celebration of life in all its bizarre complexity. I wasn’t at Thomond Park-I actually watched the game on my laptop through Sky Go-but I don’t think you had to be there to appreciate the beauty and poignancy of Munster’s epic win over a fancied Glasgow side, battered mercilessly by an unrelenting force of nature.

They came in their droves to honour Axel and pay tribute in the only way these fine rugby folk know. What they got was fantastic and memorable. Way better than any of us had imagined. There are special moments in life and wonderful moments in sport. What transpired in Limerick yesterday was one of those divine moments. The 26,500 lucky souls who witnessed it will surely remember it for the rest of their lives. One to tell the grandchildren about. How I wish I’d been there. Munster’s brilliant supporters said goodbye to a legend. One of their own. They also saw the re-emergence of their side as Champions Cup giants.

We wondered beforehand how they’d fare. How would the players cope with the magnitude and emotion of the occasion? Munster’s players only buried their coach on Friday and were expected somehow to play one of the biggest games of their season yesterday. How was that possible? I ventured during the week that a match was the best thing for them, but I wasn’t sure if I was right. From the kick off yesterday, I knew. We all knew. This was a different Munster, a profoundly different animal from anything we’d seen these last few seasons. From the first whistle, there was an intensity about the men in red that laid down the ultimate marker. Ferocious at the breakdown, monumentally aggressive in defence and their forwards hunting the ball with obsessive determination. “We’re not going to be beaten today. It doesn’t matter what you do, we’re not going to let you out of here with anything.” You can imagine the impassioned battle cries before the game. Defeat simply wasn’t an option.

It reminded me of 2007 and Ireland’s historic victory over England at Croke Park. Given the symbolism and cultural/historical significance of the occasion, Ireland’s players couldn’t countenance defeat at the hands of the old enemy. Losing would have been too much to bear. Guys like Brian O’Driscoll and Paul O’Connell have spoken passionately about the responsibility the players felt that day nine years go. It was one of those matches where they just had to deliver-failure wasn’t an option. And deliver they did. England were emphatically routed 43-13 in one of the finest performances of the Eddie O’Sullivan era. That was another emotive and unique occasion. The pre-match anthems were immaculately respected and heartily sung in equal measure. After an emotional build-up, the players and fans delivered together. As one, in complete unison. We were extremely proud to be Irish that day; it was one of the great rugby days. I’m sure the hordes of rugby pilgrims at Thomond Park were proud to be Munster men yesterday.

Typical of Ireland’s romantic province, they did it the hard way. Of course they did. This is Munster! We all remember the great wins against the odds, the “miracle match” against Gloucester in 2003 the most famous. Well, we had another miracle yesterday. Despite Munster’s magnificent start, the Thomond Park men were cast into the abyss after only 20 minutes, with Keith Earls sent off for a tip tackle on Glasgow hooker, Fraser Brown. Irrespective of whether you agree with the decision-I actually think the referee was spot on and fair play to Jerome Garces for refusing to be swayed by emotion-Earls’s red card seemed a calamity for Munster. And yet their performance never dipped. If anything, Earls’s misfortune inspired  his side to even greater heights. Remarkably, an effort that was already superlative, got even better.

Munster’s defensive effort was a joy to behold; it was simply marvellous. The Thomond men didn’t concede an inch to the Warriors all afternoon. What really impressed, though, was the shape and perseverance of the Munster attack. The hosts kept going and didn’t let the small matter of Glasgow’s numerical advantage impede their efforts. With a man down, teams often retreat into their shell in an attempt to maintain their lead and hold out. Not Munster. These guys don’t know the meaning of the word retreat.

Special mention must go to skipper, Peter O’Mahony. The Irish flanker was simply immense yesterday. It was noticeable how Munster’s performance only dipped slightly in the last 20 minutes when Glasgow got over for a brace of consolation tries. O’Mahony, still regaining match fitness after his horrendous injury, was called ashore on 61 minutes. The timing of Glasgow’s mini-revival wasn’t a coincidence! Sometimes you only appreciate the true worth of a player when they’re absent. I also thought hooker Niall Scannell had a superb game-a poor early overthrow notwithstanding. It’s unfair to single anyone out, though. They were all outstanding, to a man. Munster’s players gave every inch of their souls with this inspired performance.

It seems perverse to say it, but the tragic circumstances of last week have revived something in Munster. A latent passion that’s been missing for a while. As a city, Limerick suffered badly in the recession. This downturn has been reflected inevitably in Munster attendances. In recent seasons, crowds have been down and the decibel levels much reduced from the halcyon days. We all remember the rampaging red army touring Europe in their thousands. It was the European Cup’s first love affair: Munster and their wonderful fans. The empty Thomond terraces of recent times were an incongruous sight in comparison. Yesterday felt like the good old days. A capacity crowd, a cacophony of sound, flags and banners fluttering in the wind. A wonderful sight. It’s cruelly ironic, but Foley’s tragic, premature passing could act as a catalyst for a Munster revival. It seems wrong to think in such terms. It would be marvellous if yesterday’s heroics could be sustained, though.

Irish rugby needs Munster. The Champions Cup needs Munster. Sport needs Munster. Europe hasn’t been the same without the red army. While Lansdowne Road is the undisputed home of Irish rugby, its soul has always been in Limerick. This ultimate rugby town is the embodiment of the sport’s values. And Limerick people are rightly proud of the egalitarian way they promote rugby’s traditions. In Limerick, rugby is the game of the people and players have always enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with their fans in this great city.

It’s strange how tragedy often reveals character in a way the mundane and prosaic routines of everyday life cannot. Humanity, empathy and compassion often announce themselves resoundingly in a crisis. In tough times, we see the very best of mankind. The way in which the rugby community has rallied around the Foley family says much about the values of the sport. Professionalism may have eroded some of rugby’s ethos, but the essence of it remains intact. For that, we should all be extremely proud and grateful. We have seen its importance time and again in the past week. I’m not sure if it was planned or spontaneous but following yesterday’s game, the players formed a huddle and sang the Munster anthem, “Stand Up and Fight.” The huddle included Anthony’s sons, Dan and Tony. It was a lovely gesture. A rugby match can only be a small consolation in the midst of any human tragedy, but as a tribute to a great rugby man, yesterday’s game was undoubtedly something special. Another miracle match. It might sound a bit trite to say it, but I’m going to anyway. A true Munster giant was looking down filled with pride. Rest in peace, Anthony Foley. Munster legend and hero.

‘Stan’ up an’ fight until you hear de bell,
Stan’ toe to toe, trade blow fer blow,
Keep punchin’ till you make yer punches tell,
Show dat crowd watcher know!
Until you hear dat bell, dat final bell,
Stan’ up an’ fight like hell!’

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

Passing Of A Legend

I had it all planned out. I was going to write an article about Donald Trump and the US Presidential election today. With absolutely no disrespect intended to the controversial Republican candidate, events compel me to write about a real man instead. A man of modesty, integrity and humble achievement. I’m writing about Anthony “Axel” Foley instead.

Munster head coach Foley passed away last night in a Paris hotel ahead of Munster’s Champions Cup fixture against Racing 92. Sometimes news hits you that stops you in your tracks. The devastating, heartbreaking news that Foley had passed away was in that mould. The rugby community is in mourning at the premature passing of one of its own. In coming to terms with this awful news, we must remember that this is a personal tragedy. Anthony leaves behind his wife Olive and two young children. He was just 42 years old. With any sudden passing, there’s always a feeling of numbness and utter disbelief. Incomprehension. How can something so dreadful and unpredictable happen? While it’ll surely takes us all a very long time to make any  sense of this tragedy, it’s only fitting that we take time to remember Anthony Foley, the legend.

Who was Anthony Foley? Foley was an Irish rugby icon. The son of Munster legend Brendan Foley, the former Irish number eight captained his beloved province to its maiden Heineken Cup victory over Biarritz in 2006. The pictures from that win are so poignant today; Munster’s captain the vision of pride and happiness as he collected the trophy. After all the years of heartache and near misses, how apt that it was Foley who held the cherished trophy aloft in Cardiff. Like his good friend and teammate Keith Wood, Foley was a native of Killaloe in County Clare. A talented sportsman, the young Foley grew up playing several codes-as is often the way in Munster-but it was inevitable that rugby would capture his heart. Anthony was part of the great Shannon side that dominated Irish club rugby at the tail end of the 1990s. It was here that he first came to my attention, as part of one of the greatest back rows ever to emerge from the Irish club game: Quinlan, Foley and Halvey. They were an awesome combination, the bedrock of the Shannon side that won four AIL titles in a row.

One of the first club games I attended while studying in Dublin was St Mary’s v Shannon in Templeville Road. The Templeogue side had a good pack in those days. Trevor Brennan was in the thick of it on the blindside, a real hard man who was an extremely good back rower to boot. Big Steve Jameson was the captain, if memory serves me correctly. Another beast of a player. My abiding memory of that day was how little dominance the St Mary’s pack got. This was a superb St Mary’s team (Denis Hickie lined up on the wing), but nobody dominated that Shannon team in those days. They were just too good. This was the 1997/98 season-the Thomond Park men were at their peak then. And a young Anthony Foley was central to their dominance.

Foley gained his first international cap in 1995 in what was then the Five Nations. Test recognition strangely eluded him for a few seasons before he was recalled by Warren Gatland in 2000. He was a mainstay on Eddie O’Sullivan’s team for the next few seasons, accumulating 62 caps in the process. O’Sullivan always spoke very highly of Foley and clearly regarded the Shannon man as a very clever rugby player; one of his pivotal men. Foley wasn’t the most dynamic of number eights and didn’t carry as much ball as, say, his Leinster peer Victor Costello. You never saw him claiming that much ball in the lineout either. Yet for all that, there was no doubt that Foley was a tremendous rugby player. A man for the trenches. A bit like former England flanker Richard Hill, the Munster back rower did so much unseen work and revelled in the unheralded graft that his position demanded. He was invariably in the right place at the right time and could always be relied upon to make crucial, match winning tackles when needed.

Anthony Foley was the ultimate leader. A man of few words, Munster’s talisman led by example and set an uncompromising standard that his teammates were bound to follow. Anthony was old-school. Fashioned in the amateur and semi-professional environs of the AIL, he nonetheless seamlessly made the transition to professionalism through hard work and incredible mental toughness. Just like his Shannon club-mate Mick Galwey, Foley not only survived amateurism but was part of the core group that set the standards at Thomond Park at the start of the professional era. He was undoubtedly a really hard man, but Anthony was so much more than that. He was a totem, a winner, a captain, an inspiration. Someone who may not have been Munster’s most glamorous player, but was always the most valuable player.

I didn’t know Anthony Foley, but I had the pleasure of brushing shoulders with him a couple of times. I remember covering the 2015 Pro 12 final for Planet Rugby at Ravenhill. Foley’s Munster were well beaten by Glasgow that day, but Anthony didn’t flinch from facing the assembled hacks afterwards. Typical of the man, Foley answered the media’s questions with candour and humour. Despite his obvious disappointment, Foley fronted up in his forthright and accessible manner. True Munster honesty. It was the same when his Munster side defeated Ulster at the Kingspan Stadium last season. Admittedly, performances had been decidedly mixed since Foley assumed the head coach mantle in 2014, but it’s extremely unfair to lay all failings on a man who’s Munster through and through. For all that, Foley never shied away from his own mistakes and could be very honest in highlighting aspects that needed to be improved. Therefore, we must be fair and acknowledge Axel’s immense role in rebuilding a province going through a challenging and transitional time. Change is never easy and you have to admire those who have the balls to take on a job knowing it’s going to be tough. That’s the definition of character.

Much was made of Anthony’s de facto demotion following the appointment of Rassie Erasmus as Munster Director of Rugby. However, Munster’s decent start to the season indicates that the two men have been working well together and were in the process of forming a formidable coaching partnership. I heard a journalist discuss recently how relaxed Axel looked this season compared to last term, suggesting that Erasmus’s arrival had the desired effect of taking the pressure off Foley. One of the saddest elements of Anthony’s premature passing is the feeling that he was only getting started in his coaching career. In rugby terms, this man had so much more to offer. How devastating that we’ve lost him. This is a monumental loss for Irish rugby. I’ve always had a huge amount of respect for Anthony Foley. In fact, he was the subject of my first bog on these pages. Little did I know then, he would be gone less than six months later. How awful. How unbelievable. How tragic. Such is the fragility and fleetingness of life. Knowing life’s innate shortness doesn’t make it any easier to bear, however. Sometimes the transience of life is too cruel for words. Goodbye Anthony Foley. Rugby legend, Munster hero, family man. Gone way too soon.

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

New Zealand All Blacks: Better Every Day

“Better Every Day.”

Three small words. As far as mantras go, it’s deceptively simple. And yet that concise phrase encapsulates so much.”Better Every Day” is the catchphrase of the New Zealand All Blacks. It’s not so much a phrase as a mission statement, a forceful affirmation of everything this great team is about. For make no mistake about it, the All Blacks are great in every sense of that hackneyed word. It’s hard to improve on excellence. When you’re already the best (and by some considerable distance), how do you become even better? How do you ward off the corrosive effects of complacency and overconfidence? How do you continue the strive for excellence when you’ve already achieved everything your sport has to offer? You do it by being better every day.

We know that the All Blacks are a phenomenon. And yet the current crop is exceeding every expectation in terms of performances and achievements. The men in black have won the last two World Cups and have just wrapped up the Rugby Championship (the southern hemisphere equivalent of the Six Nations) with a 57-15 rout of South Africa in Durban. New Zealand went through the tournament unbeaten-itself a fine achievement. Since winning the World Cup on home soil in 2011, the All Blacks have accrued a winning ratio of 93%. Indeed, since retaining their crown in last year’s World Cup, the world champions have yet to taste defeat-their unbeaten streak encompassing a full calendar year and counting. In fact, last weekend’s facile dismissal of South Africa equalled their own proud world record of 17 consecutive Test wins. Few will bet against them inking a new chapter into the record books in the upcoming weeks.

However, it’s not just the unimpeachable record that’s beguiling rugby fans. It’s the nature of the performances, too. These All Blacks are not simply beating good teams, they’re hammering them. And they’re destroying them with a brand of rugby that’s taking their sport to new levels. This team really has everything. They’re not just streets ahead of every opponent, but light years. From a different planet. It’s not that their weaknesses are imperceptible. Non-existent, more like!

In fact, it’s hard to identify any discernible weak points in the New Zealand side. If any failings exist, they keep them extremely well hidden. Good set-piece, dynamic forwards, creative backs, pace, power, experience, tactical nous, offloading, imperious kicking…….I could go on ad nauseam.  The All Blacks have it all. To be honest, I actually don’t think that this is the best All Blacks team I’ve seen, talent wise. However, despite that, Steve Hansen’s men have found a way to take consistency of excellence to new levels. They invariably find a way to win, even when not playing well-the definitive hallmark of any great side. Winning is not so much a habit as an imperative for these guys. As former England coach Stuart Lancaster once said, they are always finding a way to out-think opponents; to “problem solve” in the moment.

So how is such excellence sustained? How does a great team continue to get better? “Better Every Day” was first introduced by former All Black coach Graham Henry and the motto has been continued under the astute supervision of his successor, Steve Hansen. Henry conceived the phrase as a way of guarding against complacency and ensuring his side always performed to its optimum. While the All Blacks famously set the bar high, Henry wanted something that would enshrine and inculcate the expected standards within the squad. Something that would prevent them relying on past accolades and push on for more success. To not just set standards, but instil a philosophy where the entire organisation was constantly focused on getting better. That’s what the phrase means. “Forget about what you’ve achieved in the past, what have you done to improve yourself today?” “What are you doing to improve yourself tomorrow?”

Ostensibly the phrase is a bit glib when you first hear it, but its meaning is actually rather profound. Contrary to first impressions, the motto isn’t about perfection. It’s about the quest for excellence. Always striving to do better. Looking for constant improvement. Not being content simply to maintain standards, but wanting to enhance and augment them. Never settling for anything but the best. It’s also about learning. The concept is: achievement is a journey rather than a destination. And common goals are made manifestly easier when everyone commits to continuous improvement; learning everyday to make the team better. By committing to constant improvement, standards aren’t just adhered to but really amplified, in both an individual and a collective sense. Objectives are rigorously and methodically surpassed; achievements routinely ticked off through a relentless desire to reach the highest standards.

Therefore, “Better Every Day” isn’t just a highly effective team motto. It’s much more than that. It’s a value system. Those three short words encapsulate everything that it means to be an All Black. That it’s not enough simply to win. You have to keep winning, keep learning, keep striving to be better and do better. And like all great value systems, the phrase is universal; you can apply it to virtually anything. It’s the reason why the All Blacks are so good. The reason they win more often than they lose. The reason why they are never content with past achievements, but are always looking for more. It’s the reason why they never succumb to complacency. It’s the reason the All Blacks are so far ahead of the game and the rest of the world is forlornly playing catch-up. Any team or individual can have talent. But talent alone doesn’t equate to greatness. What all great sportsmen have in common is an irrepressible drive for excellence. An insatiable appetite for success that countenances almost any sacrifice in its fulfillment. A steadfast refusal to accept anything less than the best. To not just go the extra mile in the pursuit of greatness, but to travel the extra highway. “Better Every Day” as a way of life. Ireland play this great side twice this autumn. Some fans are predicting Joe Schmidt’s men will finally break their All Black duck. You have to admire such optimism! This prediction could come back to haunt me and I’ll be delighted if it does. Ireland have two chances of beating the current All Blacks: slim and none. And slim is leaving town fast!

Image courtesy of Wikipedia:

By Roman.b (Own work) [FAL], via Wikimedia Commons

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Zealand_national_rugby_union_team

 

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

 

Culture Clash for Big Sam

During the last year, I’ve discovered the pleasure of podcasts. Podcasts are great. For the uninitiated, they are like radio, except you choose the content you want to listen to. It’s one of my simple pleasures in life, sourcing a podcast on a topic and then spending an hour or two listening to an informed discussion. In recent times, I’ve listened to several podcasts on diverse subjects, from music to current affairs and a host of other things in between. In terms of sport, there are some terrific podcasts available.

My personal favourite is Off The Ball from Newstalk. Every week, Joe Molloy and the team provide informed and entertaining discussion from the Irish sports world. All major sports are covered, with the station providing extensive analysis on the hot topics of the day. The journalism is, in itself, excellent, and the team always provides pundits of the highest quality. It’s worth tuning in to listen to Joe Brolly or Paul Kimmage alone-both are Off The Ball regulars. The predominant subject being discussed last week was of course Sam Allardyce’s ignominious departure from the England post after only one game in charge. As usual, Off The Ball was my first port of call when looking for perceptive analysis. The Allardyce debate made for interesting listening, to say the least.

For those who don’t know, England’s manager left his post last week following an investigation by the Daily Telegraph into alleged corruption in English football. Part of their expose featured  clandestine footage of Allardyce negotiating a speaking engagement with businessmen that supposedly had interests in the Far East but who were, in fact, undercover Telegraph reporters. The rush to judgement on Big Sam was predictably speedy, with the prevailing consensus holding that his position had become untenable once the Telegraph footage came to light. The common view was that such enterprises were inconsistent with Allardyce’s exalted position and were fundamentally unbecoming of an England manager. To make matters worse, the former West Ham boss apparently discussed potential circumvention of FA rules on the contentious matter of third party ownership. The media verdict on Allardyce was both harsh and immediate. Many condemned England’s manager as foolish, while greedy was the adjective that featured most often in commentaries.

Whether you view the Allardyce sting as entrapment or a fine piece of investigative journalism, it’s hard not to have an opinion on his dramatic fall from grace. While the Telegraph has undoubtedly done us a service in publicising discussions those involved would have preferred to stay hidden, I think these events tell us much more about the changing nature of football than they do about any individual. Far be it from me to defend Allardyce, but some aspects of the media narrative don’t really add up. Firstly, in relation to greed, is it possible to condemn anyone as greedy in a world where market forces dominate and superstar players regularly earn in excess of £200,000 a week? When the underlying climate is intrinsically avaricious, how can anyone in football condemn Allardyce without leaving themselves open to hypocrisy? Moreover, as far as misdemeanours go, using your position to negotiate some keynote speaking isn’t exactly the worst practice ever committed in football.

I think most analysts have got this story wrong. In my view, Allardyce’s fall has little to do with greed and nothing whatsoever to do with corruption. Instead, Allardyce’s demise is about culture. Sam Allardyce didn’t change. Football did. Big Sam has long been perceived as the archetypal old-school manager; a traditional British boss with an instinctive feel for the conventions of the English game. Ironically, Allardyce’s lack of modernity was probably one of the reasons he was so attractive to his FA employers. After the cosmopolitan sophistication of Sven Goran-Eriksson and Fabio Capello and the eccentricity of Steve McLaren and Roy Hodgson, here was a man who embodied the most desirable traits of the good, old-fashioned British football manager. Someone grounded by modesty and grit, yet still possessing a sharp football brain and a humble intellect. For years, these were the sort of managers that prospered in English football.

However, the world of football has changed beyond all recognition in the last 20 years. Old-school managers like Allardyce have been steadily replaced by a new breed of boss. These new kids on the block exude sophistication and finesse; they have little concern for outdated and antediluvian attitudes. It’s easy to think of the prototype of the modern manager: young, brash, confident and cultured. Usually a former player. Whereas once guys like Big Sam were ubiquitous in English football, that style of manager is gradually becoming extinct, replaced by the Mourinhos, Guardiolas and Pochettinos of this world. It’s hard not to feel for the old-school manager. Football is abandoning them one by one. And as they fall, the modus operandi of the traditional boss slowly disappears. Allardyce has done nothing wrong, but still finds himself obsolete.

I don’t know everything that the Telegraph has uncovered, but I’d be very surprised if corruption was endemic in English football. Modern managers simply have way too much to lose to think in terms of “bungs.” Granted, power and money corrupt. And absolute power corrupts absolutely, as Lord Acton famously observed. But why would managers and players risk their livelihoods in this crass fashion when it’s so easy to enrich yourself quite legitimately in the modern game? It just doesn’t add up. Where vast riches exist in any walk of life, there’s always the potential for corruption. However, it’s hard to believe that such practices are institutionalised in modern football. And whatever rump of malpractice that still exists will eventually be washed away by the vast corporate machine that is the Premier League. As for Big Sam, don’t be too hard on him. Allardyce has certainly been naive and, by his own admission, a little foolish. And yes, he’s probably been a tad greedy. But no crime has been committed.  It must be hard when the world you’ve known changes before your very eyes. That’s the thing about culture. If you don’t change with it, it will leave you behind for good.

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

 

 

 

Can The Stick Exist Alongside The Carrot?

Should a manager or sports coach ever criticise his/her players in public? This rhetorical question comes to mind on the back of comments made by United boss Jose Mourinho in the last couple of weeks. Mourinho was quite outspoken about certain players in the aftermath of recent defeats and the Portuguese manager’s attitude has sparked a debate over what is and isn’t appropriate for someone in his position. Further to my last blog, the Red Devils predictably bounced back (what a cringe-worthy and cliched phrase!) from their early season slump with an emphatic victory over last season’s champions Leicester City. The United boss was completely vindicated in his selections and tactics as the Old Trafford men slayed the Foxes with overwhelming ease. Were Mourinho’s previous statements justified on this basis? Certainly, whatever the United boss said to his players, it seemed to work a treat.

The answer depends on your perspective and level of tolerance. Conventional football wisdom decrees that you never criticise your players in public. According to this logic, the environs of the dressing room are sacrosanct and any harsh words uttered behind closed doors should remain eternally private. For example, Alex Ferguson had a strict policy of omerta in relation to his players and obsessively refrained from critiquing them in the public arena. Assuming that the former United boss was much more direct behind closed doors, overt public criticism was nevertheless a territory he never ventured into. However, his current successor is cut from a different cloth. Mourinho is notoriously bold, brash and outspoken. United’s manager has no qualms about speaking his mind and seems unconcerned whose feathers get ruffled in the process. While Mourinho would probably contest that he’s overtly, publicly critical of his players, there’s little doubt that the former Chelsea coach is more forthright in his views than many of his managerial peers and predecessors. So, which approach is correct?

It’s easy to maintain the traditional view that players should never be criticised in public. After all, it’s only logical that players respond better to praise than opprobrium. However, I think that public censure can sometimes be justified if it provokes and inspires the right response. It’s a rather counter-intuitive argument to make, but some individuals respond well to honest, forthright critique. As a motivational tool, constructive criticism can be extremely effective. Apart from anything else, it can induce a desire to prove the manger or coach wrong. Similarly, many players respond best to honest and accurate appraisals of their performance. While well-meaning platitudes are well and good, nothing beats an honest and candid assessment of players’ performance aspects that can be improved. It’s always helpful to have essential evaluation measured in a quantifiable way. The key word here is “constructive.”

I believe firmly that individuals are always motivated by praise and encouragement above anything else. This is true in any walk of life. Sport, business, the arts: you name it. I was never much of a rugby player, but I played a little in school and college. I was very enthusiastic, but lacked the coordination and skill to be much of a player. I remember one of my coaches being particularly harsh on some of us. This man had little inclination to encourage or spare any feelings in respect of our efforts. His philosophy was very much one of tough love. And this was supposed to be a fun experience?! Yes, a good (metaphorical) kick up the arse is needed sometimes, but surely there has to be a combination of carrot and stick employed? My abiding memory of this coach’s approach is how utterly self-defeating it was. Regardless of what he thought of our abilities, surely he realised that he would have got more out of us by praising every once in a while? To be fair, this approach wasn’t particularly uncommon. It’s how things were done in those days. A sort of faux drill sergeant mentality.  In my experience, it never worked very well. Professional sport is a much different world to social rugby of course, but the basic principle is the same. How best to motivate an individual? How tough should a coach be?

Sometimes unfiltered honesty is the best policy. Whatever one thinks of Mourinho’s exhortations, they seem to have worked pretty well. Moreover, the United manager’s record confirms that his methods usually succeed. When dealing with elite footballers, the last thing you want is a bunch of precious prima donnas who regard any sort of criticism as a form of personal judgement. After all, we’re talking about multi-millionaire superstars here. Surely, the least we can expect of them is an ability to withstand a little honest critique? The key is balance, in my view. Although it can be beneficial to put the cat among the pigeons sometimes, coaches must be careful not to erode the unity and purpose that underscores any team. Modern players are much more delicate flowers than their forerunners. It’s a fine line to tread. Jose Mourinho is infinitely more qualified to make these judgements than I am and I’m sure he’ll get the balance right.  Constructive criticism certainly has its place, but there’s no substitute for sincere encouragement. In sport, history tells us the best results are achieved by a careful juxtaposition of carrot and stick.

Twitter:@RoryMcGimpsey

Calm Down, It’s Only September!

While I was engrossed in the excitement of the All-Ireland football final, the news came through that Man United had slumped to their third consecutive loss. The soccer giants lost 3-1 to Watford at Vicarage Road today, a chastening defeat that prompted the usual hysteria and over-reaction among many fans and pundits. Disappointment at your team losing is perfectly understandable of course and distress at defeat is hardly a new phenomenon. A bizarre trend is emerging, though. We are living in a curious age where instant reaction is demanded in these moments and our responses are becoming ludicrously disproportionate, devoid of any semblance of balance or common sense.

The honeymoon is over. While fans were somewhat divided over the vexed appointment of Jose Mourinho, it’s fair to say the overwhelming majority were prepared to give the controversial Portuguese manager a chance. And it all started so promisingly. A decent preseason, one that heralded a smattering of marquee signatures, was followed by a good start to the league. Typical of the new manager, the performances were functional rather than overly spectacular, but the results were coming and there seemed to be intent to play attacking football. I saw the first home game against Southampton and I must say I was very impressed with the United performance. The hosts were organised and efficient, and new signing Paul Pogba looked every inch the superstar in midfield. Certainly his inflated price tag didn’t look excessive that evening.

Granted, things haven’t gone too well since. Last week’s deflating loss in the Manchester derby was followed up by Europa League disappointment in Rotterdam. Today’s reverse against Watford has therefore topped off a rather horrendous week from a United viewpoint. And I get the fact that these losses aren’t mere statistics. There’s a context to all of this. Admittedly, I haven’t seen all the matches, but I understand that the performances as much as the results have caused concern. The City performance, in particular, was a profound reality check. The final score hardly did justice to the extent of City’s pervasive dominance. I tuned out before the end, but the Premier League favourites were mesmerising in the Manchester derby. City were fantastic, exhibiting a blistering pace that was combined with pin-point accuracy. Make no mistake, this was as emphatic a 2-1 victory as you’ll ever see. If City had taken their chances in the first half, it could have been really embarrassing for Mourinho. United have seen it all before with a Pep Guardiola team, of course. That bloody carousel! Today’s defeat punctured the Mourinho bubble further. A 3-1 loss to Watford. A reverse of this nature was always going to spell the end of the honeymoon.

Disappointment I understand. But I don’t get the hysteria. A cursory look at some of the post-game reaction unearthed the usual internet hyperbole and overreaction. Football commentary has become so tabloid. Everything’s a crisis. I’ve seen several comments on Twitter today, that openly question Mourinho’s tenure. United’s boss is getting slated by elements on the internet and social media. Unfavourable comparisons are even being made with immediate predecessors Louis Van Gaal and the unfortunate David Moyes. Moyes, in particular, proved fatally vulnerable to similar levels of impatience when he was shown the door with indecent haste ten months into a six-year contract. Mourinho will certainly be given more time, but he must find such commentary extremely perplexing. Let’s not lose our heads here. We’re only five games into the league season. There’s plenty of football to be played.

I’m not Mourinho’s biggest fan, but his record tells you there’s absolutely no need to panic. The man’s a perpetual winner, who invariably gets the job done in the end. What we’re seeing here isn’t based on calm and rational analysis. It’s hysteria and an extreme form of hysteria at that. We live in a world that demands instant success. Everything has to be expeditious and immediate. These days, we don’t wait to make our judgements. We offer them instantaneously and without mercy. Patience is viewed almost as an old-fashioned concept. In the modern era, football supporters demand immediate success and expect their teams to win every game. Expectations are less realistic than ever. Fans baulk at the idea of giving a manager time to make his mark.

If a match is lost, then the manager is in trouble. Lose a couple of games and it’s magnified into a full-blown crisis. Crisis? The word has lost all meaning in the modern vernacular. Wars and famines are crises. Losing a few football matches constitutes a blip, a transient setback from which great managers like Mourinho inevitably recover. These modern trends have eroded our sanity and sense. We’ve lost the power of perspective. Social media hasn’t helped in this regard. The demand for instant judgement and rapid reaction is insatiable. It’s a relentless, self-serving monster. But we’re all in trouble when fans are getting perturbed by the loss of a couple of early season games. Sport is an emotive business and it’s easy to get caught up in the madness. Anyone getting too hot and bothered really need to take a step back, though. Calm down dears, it’s only September!

P.S. For those who missed it, Dublin and Mayo served up a cracker at Croke Park today. The game ended as a draw, but the result was in doubt until virtually the last kick of the contest. Whenever the Dubs threatened to pull away, Mayo came back and the Connacht men showed great heart to tie up a game that seemed lost. It’s hard to resist the thought that today was Mayo’s best chance for the Sam. They were, by common consent, the better team and would surely have won were it not for the costly concession of two own-goals. One hopes they have enough in the tank to go again. The replay promises to be unmissable viewing!

Twitter: @RoryMcGimpsey

Image courtesy of Wikipedia: By Aleksandr Osipov (José Mourinho) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AJos%C3%A9_Mourinho_in_Kyiv%2C_October_2015.jpg

File:José Mourinho in Kyiv, October 2015.jpg