Diarmuid O'Flynn liked it too
A Munster memory to treasure
22/12/2008
WERE I a gambling man (and I’m not, thankfully, because with my luck and judgement I wouldn’t have a backside to my trousers), I would have wagered heavily that in this sporting year, 2008, nothing would top the Heineken Cup final experience in Cardiff on May 24th. Immediately afterwards, doing my damnedest to reflect the dramatics, I began my overview piece with a description of the presentation ceremony, as follows: “The lights dimmed in the closed Millennium Stadium, darkness closed in; in the background, a low throbbing drumbeat, growing gradually in volume, increasing in tempo, replicating perfectly the pounding Munster hearts in the packed stands of this amazing stadium during the final tension-packed 15 minutes of what had been an absorbing contest.”
It was one of those spine-tingling moments, and this had been one of those spine-tingling occasions, the kind of sporting occasion which, if you’re fortunate enough to be present for just one a year, you’re grateful. It was a second Heineken Cup for Munster which confirmed their status as one of Europe’s elite and thus one of the world’s elite.
Afterwards, as one of many thousands of Munster supporters, I said to my old friend Johnny Ryan – “If we don’t have another moment of success this year, with Ballyhea, with Cork, with Ireland, with any other sport we follow either team or individual, this will do us.” Then came November 18.
You know, when you’re building to something big for a long time, it can often turn out to be a disappointment, a damp squib.
From the moment the decision was made to revamp Thomond Park, it had occurred to me (and this is not hindsight) – wouldn’t a return of the All Blacks be a really fitting way to reopen the place? I don’t care who the reigning world champions are, now or ever, the true benchmark in world rugby is the team in black. Since the advent of professionalism, and over the last eight years especially, Munster have really made huge strides both on and off the rugby field. European titles are proof positive of that, a new stadium additional proof, but what better to really know where you now stand than a test (because that’s what it would be, in all but name) against the best?
It didn’t look very likely at the time, however. The decision to drop the mid-week provincial matches against the best club and provincial sides on this side of the world has meant that a lot of the old intimacy is gone.
It’s all now very clinical, professional, arms-length; playing only internationals, in national stadia, the supporters are so far removed from the action that it’s really not that far removed from being at home and watching it on TV.
Gradually, however, the word started to leak out – when the All Blacks came north in the autumn of 2008, a replay of 1978 might be on. Eventually, incredibly, what had been seen originally as only a dim prospect became a reality, and the date was set: November 18th.
The build-up was immense, to such an extent that down in this part of the world anyway it outshone the international match, even with the prospect — very real we thought at the time — of a first win for Ireland over New Zealand. There was fear in Munster, however, fear of an anti-climax, fear that because the province would be shorn of its internationals, short 11 top-class players, the men in red would be eaten alive by the All Blacks, even if it was their mid-week side. Oh, ye of little faith!
I had no such fear, and in a casual pregame conversation with Ryle Nugent of RTÉ, I stated my belief that a Munster pack of little renown would in fact front up to the All Blacks, that I would not rule out a Munster win.
Well, on that memorable night history wasn’t made, nor could it have been anyway – you can only be the first once, that’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? But the 26,000 capacity crowd who genuinely were in Thomond Park on November 18th 2008 almost witnessed what the 26,000 who claim they were in the then 13,000-capacity Thomond Park of 1978 did see, a defeat for the All-Blacks. That they didn’t, well, I blame the referee, because I can, and Messieur Roman Poite is not getting that Christmas card. A late, heart-breaking, win-denying try, from a lineout that began with a penalty award against Mick O’Driscoll that was harsh in the extreme, after two blatant, probably win-guaranteeing, penalties for Munster had been ignored.
AND yet, it didn’t take from the occasion. From long before kick-off there was a buzz in the air, the old Thomond Park buzz. I had been in the reopened stands for the two earlier big games, Magners League and Heineken Cup wins over Glasgow and Montauban, respectively, and while the crowd were making an effort, the intangible that had made this ground so special, so ‘mythical’, as described by the magnificent Clermont and Argentinean hooker Mario Ledesma, was missing. It’s something that’s far more formidable than the mere physical, it’s a force, an energy, a power beyond the normal that connects the fans to the players and lifts them to almost superhuman effort.
And that’s how it was in Thomond Park that evening; from the moment the four Munster Kiwis stepped forward to do a Munster Haka, this event exploded. And it WAS a Munster Haka, in the Maori native language but in the Munster native spirit, a spirit of respect but of fearlessness, a spirit long born of the three ancient warrior kingdoms of Thomond, Desmond and Ormond (the latter of which, by the way, entitles us to claim Ian Dowling as one of our own!).
Let there be no dispute about this, the All Blacks were the better team that night, had the better rugby players overall. While they did get the nod from Mr Poite, that they eventually got their win and denied Munster was down primarily to their heart, their spirit, their determination, their belief in themselves and in their own proud jersey. So, respect for them; respect also, however, for the Munster team of that night. They didn’t win the game, but they won something far greater – they won undying respect for themselves. It was a night to treasure, forever.
