Proinsias
09-05-2006, 11:13 AM
here's the article:
What came first? The winning, not the fans DENIS WALSH
AS A body of people Munster rugby supporters tend to be pleased with themselves. They feel part of something powerful, something tribal, something wholesome. They feel a bond with the team and believe that the feeling is returned. At Thomond Park they feel inseparable from the result and the performance and the terror and the mystique, and a version of that atmosphere has been successfully vacuum-packed for export to away grounds.
They like the idea that when other people think of the Munster phenomenon, the fans inhabit the same thought. Hang the humility; they know they're special. They like the idea that the Munster players feel both canonised and ordinary. In fact, they would insist on it. For a television preview of their Celtic League match last weekend a Leinster player was interviewed with his sunglasses resting in his hair. Imagine a Munster player with sunglasses in his hair? The Munster public wouldn't stand for it. Culturally, it would be a capital offence.
It was yet another badge of honour that the Leinster supporters were routed in Lansdowne Road before a ball was kicked. Tickets were priceless, unattainable; the Munster fans got them. Judging by reports coming from Biarritz this week the Millennium stadium will be bleeding with red on Saturday week. Tickets went on sale in southern France to a great Gallic shrug.
All of that is wonderful but here's the thing: most of these so-called diehards are actually bandwagon-jumpers. Thousands upon thousands of Munster supporters are Johnnies-come-lately. The fans didn't make Munster sexy or help Munster to win because they weren't there; the winning and the sexiness came first, then the fans. That was the sequence.
Looking back, some of the figures are staggering. Between 1995 and the end of January 2000 Munster played 12 home games in the Heineken Cup without filling Thomond Park or Musgrave Park. In fact, they only came close twice: for the Harlequins game in 1997 and the Saracens game at the start of 2000, which had attendances given at 10,000. Munster's average home crowd for the other 10 games was 4,700.
In 1998 Munster played three home games against Padova, Neath and Perpignan to combined home crowds of 7,500. Total. When Neath visited Musgrave Park that autumn only 1,500 turned up.
The first time that Thomond Park was full to capacity for a Heineken Cup match was the 2000 quarter-final against Stade Francais, in the fifth season of the competition. People queued at Thomond Park in the rain from 5am, five hours before the ticket booth opened. That was the start of the fans phenomenon.
Munster reached the final that year in Twickenham and their support was extraordinary, perhaps 30,000 strong. Except for the match against Italy in the 1994 soccer World Cup, no team from Ireland had enjoyed such support on foreign soil.
But where were the faithful the following autumn when Newport visited Thomond Park in the opening game of the Heineken Cup? The crowd numbered a modest 9,200. By the time the Heineken Cup pool stages resume in the autumn it can be anything up to six months since Munster appeared in the competition. You would think that Munster fans would be dying to see the team again. But Harlequins' visit to Thomond Park in autumn 2004 was the first time that Munster's debut home pool match was attended by a full house.
The reality is that there is no ancient history of mass Munster support. For a start, there was no competition structure to support it. The inter-pros were a dead-duck and touring teams were a sporadic presence.
In the wonderful stage dramatisation of Munster's victory over the All Blacks, Alone it Stands, ticket deprivation is one of the narrative lines but this is dramatic licence. It is clear from Stand Up and Fight, the definitive account of that match, that tickets were readily available in the preceding days and outside the ground on the day itself.
Fourteen years ago when Munster beat Australia in Musgrave Park, their last victory over a touring team, there was no problem getting into the ground. Granted, it was a midweek match, it was raining and the visitors were fielding their second string, but Australia were the world champions and if it meant so much to be a Munster supporter why wasn't the ground full? It simply didn't mean that much or at least it meant that much only to a passionate few.
The Heineken Cup final will be a mind-blowing spectacle and the Munster fans will make it so. But should we measure Munster's support by Heineken Cup finals or bread and butter appearances in the Celtic League? Two weeks after filling Lansdowne Road for the quarter-final, Munster couldn't fill Thomond Park for the visit of the Edinburgh.
In the great hype of self-congratulation, we ought to remember that too.
What came first? The winning, not the fans DENIS WALSH
AS A body of people Munster rugby supporters tend to be pleased with themselves. They feel part of something powerful, something tribal, something wholesome. They feel a bond with the team and believe that the feeling is returned. At Thomond Park they feel inseparable from the result and the performance and the terror and the mystique, and a version of that atmosphere has been successfully vacuum-packed for export to away grounds.
They like the idea that when other people think of the Munster phenomenon, the fans inhabit the same thought. Hang the humility; they know they're special. They like the idea that the Munster players feel both canonised and ordinary. In fact, they would insist on it. For a television preview of their Celtic League match last weekend a Leinster player was interviewed with his sunglasses resting in his hair. Imagine a Munster player with sunglasses in his hair? The Munster public wouldn't stand for it. Culturally, it would be a capital offence.
It was yet another badge of honour that the Leinster supporters were routed in Lansdowne Road before a ball was kicked. Tickets were priceless, unattainable; the Munster fans got them. Judging by reports coming from Biarritz this week the Millennium stadium will be bleeding with red on Saturday week. Tickets went on sale in southern France to a great Gallic shrug.
All of that is wonderful but here's the thing: most of these so-called diehards are actually bandwagon-jumpers. Thousands upon thousands of Munster supporters are Johnnies-come-lately. The fans didn't make Munster sexy or help Munster to win because they weren't there; the winning and the sexiness came first, then the fans. That was the sequence.
Looking back, some of the figures are staggering. Between 1995 and the end of January 2000 Munster played 12 home games in the Heineken Cup without filling Thomond Park or Musgrave Park. In fact, they only came close twice: for the Harlequins game in 1997 and the Saracens game at the start of 2000, which had attendances given at 10,000. Munster's average home crowd for the other 10 games was 4,700.
In 1998 Munster played three home games against Padova, Neath and Perpignan to combined home crowds of 7,500. Total. When Neath visited Musgrave Park that autumn only 1,500 turned up.
The first time that Thomond Park was full to capacity for a Heineken Cup match was the 2000 quarter-final against Stade Francais, in the fifth season of the competition. People queued at Thomond Park in the rain from 5am, five hours before the ticket booth opened. That was the start of the fans phenomenon.
Munster reached the final that year in Twickenham and their support was extraordinary, perhaps 30,000 strong. Except for the match against Italy in the 1994 soccer World Cup, no team from Ireland had enjoyed such support on foreign soil.
But where were the faithful the following autumn when Newport visited Thomond Park in the opening game of the Heineken Cup? The crowd numbered a modest 9,200. By the time the Heineken Cup pool stages resume in the autumn it can be anything up to six months since Munster appeared in the competition. You would think that Munster fans would be dying to see the team again. But Harlequins' visit to Thomond Park in autumn 2004 was the first time that Munster's debut home pool match was attended by a full house.
The reality is that there is no ancient history of mass Munster support. For a start, there was no competition structure to support it. The inter-pros were a dead-duck and touring teams were a sporadic presence.
In the wonderful stage dramatisation of Munster's victory over the All Blacks, Alone it Stands, ticket deprivation is one of the narrative lines but this is dramatic licence. It is clear from Stand Up and Fight, the definitive account of that match, that tickets were readily available in the preceding days and outside the ground on the day itself.
Fourteen years ago when Munster beat Australia in Musgrave Park, their last victory over a touring team, there was no problem getting into the ground. Granted, it was a midweek match, it was raining and the visitors were fielding their second string, but Australia were the world champions and if it meant so much to be a Munster supporter why wasn't the ground full? It simply didn't mean that much or at least it meant that much only to a passionate few.
The Heineken Cup final will be a mind-blowing spectacle and the Munster fans will make it so. But should we measure Munster's support by Heineken Cup finals or bread and butter appearances in the Celtic League? Two weeks after filling Lansdowne Road for the quarter-final, Munster couldn't fill Thomond Park for the visit of the Edinburgh.
In the great hype of self-congratulation, we ought to remember that too.