Delight turns to despair in Dublin as Ireland's World Cup dream dashed

Emma Duffy reports from Dublin

SILENCE. A NIGHT that began with so much excitement and noise and colour in one of Dublin’s biggest sports bars ended in silence and sadness and disbelief.

Penalty heartbreak for Ireland. The World Cup dream dead and gone.

Hands on heads, mouths, hips. Scarves thrown on the floor, a sympathetic clap, another sip of beer.

And then a mass exodus. To the bar, to the front door, to anywhere but here.

As the crowd spills out onto Camden Street, some overheard thoughts capture the national feeling.

“Fuck it anyway.”

“It’s the hope that kills you.”

“I can’t fucking believe it. After all that. After ALL that.”

“What could have been.”

Then someone chirps up. “Lads, where are we going next?” 

Life goes on. 

***

Just before Czechia’s 86th-minute equaliser, the smell of coffee filled the air in The Camden.

That usually means one thing in bars: Espresso Martinis.

Their purchasers must have known it was going to be a long night.

The scent lingered as the atmosphere was punctured; new Czech captain Ladislav Krejčí heading home late on to force extra-time.

While mouths dropped and hearts sank, one lad in the middle of the crowd did his utmost to rally the troops. He swung his scarf in the air, attempting another round of Come On You Boys In Green, or Olé Olé.

While it may have fallen flat on this occasion, there were many resurrections amidst the blur that followed.

Advertisement

The group of girls that asked ‘What happens next?’ at the final whistle, and seemed to know only Troy Parrott, kicked every ball through the additional period.

The men trying to watch the big screen from a seated area got more and more agitated as people stopped to catch a glimpse from the balcony in front of them, which was signposted ‘No standing’.

The tension rose and the pressure ratcheted up, one minute after another, and then penalty by penalty.

Elation after Caoimhín Kelleher’s save was soon replaced by despair as Finn Azaz was denied. Most watched Alan Browne’s miss through their fingers, and some turned the opposite way as Jan Kliment delivered the final blow.

Those four first-half minutes when Ireland took a 2-0 lead felt like an eternity ago now. The dreamland before a sporting nightmare.

***

The buzz is building through the calm before the storm.

There’s much more footfall than usual on a March evening in Dublin.

Ireland jerseys are visible under office-wear after 5.30pm finishes; loose plans being hatched over phone calls, and a sense of anticipation – and optimism – in the air.

A group of young lads huddle outside Tesco, pleased with their purchases: Buzzballz cocktails and glass-size bottles of white wine.

“They’re rotten,” was one verdict.

“But they get you drunk!” came the reply.

Another crew seeks out the nearest vape shop, most heading in the same direction: Camden Street.

Their generation missed Italia 90, USA 94, and Korea/Japan 2002. This is meant to be their Irish men’s national team moment.

Long-suffering fans, band-wagoners, all welcome.

At 6.20pm, the message from the door of The Camden is that it’s full. No point in queueing. Bookings only.

The 42 – like pretty much everyone else – manages a way in.

I’ve never been to The Darts, but I’d imagine this is what it is like. Feral is an understatement. Complete and utter sensory overload.

Upstairs is already like a cattle mart, with seemingly every student in Dublin present. Downstairs is a slight improvement, a green haze amidst the luminous lighting and blaring music.

Pints are carried in threes – at least – as servers weave through the ever-growing crowd with pizzas and wings and other food orders. How there aren’t more collisions is a mystery.

It smells like smoke and Red Bull and aftershave, with one group of fellas topping up on the latter on the dance floor at half-time.

Related Reads

'Stick with us,' Troy Parrott tells Irish fans in emotional post-match interview

Ireland feel a brutal World Cup pain with ghosts that will stalk and linger

Ireland's World Cup dreams are over after penalty heartbreak in Prague

The first sighting of Heimir Hallgrímsson on the many screens dotted around the huge venue brings the first rousing chants of the night.

They will be sang over and over and over, as the Irish songbook is heard from Prague’s Fortuna Arena and echoed around D2.

Amhrán na bhFiann is recited with pride and gusto, the Czech anthem drowned out by Olé-ing.

‘Into them’ is the demand from 1,852km away, and Ireland’s bright start is most welcome.

The place erupts when the early penalty is awarded after a VAR check, fists clenched in the air in unison.

Phone cameras are readied in expectation as Troy Parrott steps up. Steady hands are needed, while glasses shake in others.

Then limbs.

Drinks, hats and bookmaker-branded underpants are thrown in the air as Put ‘Em Under Pressure rings out.

Four minutes later, there’s more of the same after Matěj Kovář’s own goal.

The cheering is even louder this time, the jumping higher. An older man nearby does a jig, a woman laughs in disbelief.

2-0 Ireland. Bedlam.

The minor technical difficulties and a recurring black box on the 4K display won’t come close to dampening these spirits.

But everyone is brought back to earth four minutes later when Czech talisman Patrick Schick halves the deficit.

That unfortunately turns out to be the theme of a marathon night of ups and downs. A rollercoaster of emotion.

Delight, then despair.

“I think we got too excited at the start,” one friend mutters to another as the stakes heighten.

Maybe, just maybe.

And then it all ended in grim silence.