The Elephant in the Room

37% - Ireland’s win ratio under Declan Kidney against the world’s top nations.

8th – Ireland’s current world ranking, our lowest since the rankings began.

15, 14, 12, 11, 10, 8, 6, 4, 3, 2, 1 – the numbers where the same player started every single 2012 Six Nations match.


Irelands regression as a top international test playing rugby nation has been startling. From the heights of the Grand Slam in 2009 and the record participation on that summers Lions tour by Irish players to the defeat to Scotland in the final game in Croke Park, to the last minute win over Italy in Rome last year and now the humiliation of being defeated easily by a limited England side. Add to that the three losses in a row to Wales, a team made up of players who regularly taste defeat at the hands of the Irish provinces and the result is that Ireland are now sitting below Argentina in the IRB world ranking. The slide has been steady and would be a whole lot more visible if it were not for the wins against England and Australia in the last year. Those wins were great, strong Irish performances, stunned over 80 minutes which yielded unexpected results. These successes are now tainted; we now see that these momentous occasions were aberrations, exceptions to the norm, mere glimpses of the potential that lies within this group of players. Yet that is what it is, potential, and it will continue to remain just that until there is fundamental change in the way the IRFU and the Irish management do their business.


If you pick up the papers in the past few days and read the sports columns discussing the Irish performance of the weekend and most of the blame seems to lie in Ireland’s lack of strength in depth. Ah that old chestnut, strength in depth, I’m always bewildered at this argument put forward by the rugby journalists, they decry Ireland lack of options in several positions yet never seem to put pressure on the coach to introduce players at a younger age. Irelands Six Nations campaign effectively ended when Wales scored that last minute penalty in Lansdowne Road, from there we couldn’t win the Grand Slam, couldn’t win a Triple Crown and the likelihood was we couldn’t win the championship. In the first year of a world Cup cycle we have effectively waster perfectly good opportunities to see if guys like Ronan Loughney, Jamie Hagan, Paul Marshall and Dan Touhy have what it takes to cut it at Test level. Loughney and Hagan, two tighthead props, offer the best alternatives to Mike Ross who as we saw to our cost on Saturday is now as indispensable to Ireland as his predecessor, John Hayes, became. The fact that neither player has an international cap to their name is a damning inditement of a coach who is so shackled by conservatism that it is now crippling this team. Kidney, aided by Gert Small, wasted two years trying to turn Tony Buckley into a competent Test playing tighthead, two years when Ross and Hagan were playing regularly and well for their clubs yet it was only when it became glaringly apparent that Buckley would never make it was Ross drafted in. It was a shocking neglection of their responsibilities. Take another case, one of the few success stories of the championship, Munsters Donnacha Ryan, the guy would never have started a game if it wasn’t for the injury to captain Paul O’Connell despite that fact that he’s been selected all season ahead on Donncha O’Callaghan at Munster and when he replaced the former against Italy and Wales he made a huge impact and showed O’Callaghan up big time. Seeing Tómas O’Leary coming on against England was the tipping point for me. Here’s a guy who is at best second choice at Munster, has been injured most of the season and is clearly out of form, yet another in form Irish qualified scrum half, Paul Marshall, has been playing exceptionally well for Ulster all season where he has pushed Ruan Pienaar all the way for the number 9 shirt. O’Leary’s selection was a slap in the face to Marshall and make a mockery of the coaches pledge to pick the form players. There is simple too much loyalty, too much blinkered thinking being displayed by this management team.

Another issue which I believe has impacted hugely on the sides performance is the fact that for a sizable number of the current squad they have been listening to the same voice for too long. Since 2001 Declan Kidney has been assistant coach with Ireland, head coach with Munster for two separate period with a year in charge of Leinster sandwiched in between and has been head coach with Ireland for nearly four years.



A change may be exactly what this squad needs. There has been no indication from the IRFU that Kidney will be asked to step down and there appears to be no pressure coming from the media for him to do so either. I wonder are Ireland missing a beat on that account. Wayne Smith, John Kirwan and Nick Mallett – all top class coaches and all available right now. The next Ireland coach in my opinion needs to be from outside the country, free from any provincial baggage, a person who can take an objective view on the state of the nation. This Ireland team needs a clean break, a fresh start and then maybe we will finally see this talented group of player fulfil their potential.

First Game, First Down

We all know the feeling. Somebody has just called your bluff. Bollox why’d I go all in on a pair of fours? Not only will you have to suffer the shame of bowing out of the game, you’ll be forced to show to the table – and by extension – the world, that you can write plenty of cheques but when it comes to cashing them you’re about as secure as an Irish banking institution. The aura you so confidently eluded mere minutes before has evaporated as quick as the sweat patches formed under your arms. It all seemed so easy as you pushed the green chips to the middle of the table. Surely nobody will call me? I’ll re-raise just to be safe.......Soon enough you’ve the rent money on the table and you’re pricing how much food will cost you for the rest of the week. In the immortal words of Mick McCarthy – your arse in the bacon slicer.

In the bigger more fluid game of poker, that is American Football, I’d long since re-mortgaged the house with boasts of 50 yard field goals. Within the blink of an eye, Round 1 arrived and my bravado would actually be tested. All the practice with Coach Ramos would be put to the test in the ultimate arena – a live competitive sporting event. I’ve had a fairly successful couple of months in training. My kicking percentage has increased and my bad kicks have nearly disappeared. I am far from nailing all my kicks but I look like a kicker now. Throughout the pre-season, the team had lost a punter so I was called into fulfil that duty as well. Initially this was the position I had wanted but without much practice, I was going to have to wing it. My kickoffs were frankly rubbish until our Defensive Tackle Dave spotted a flaw in my style. A quick change and I was pinning the opposition back with my kickoffs. All this though was in the friendly environment of Spartans Training. The New Jersey Pitbulls wouldn’t be so nice about it.

After getting padded up, I was presented with my jersey. I’d requested the number 32 (an ode to my Sinn Fein days and a goal all Irish Republicans strive towards) and the club had come good for me. The jersey fitted me but the questions as to whether I could fill it out or not still lingered. A quick warm up later and it was time for the coin toss. I was hoping if we won the toss to receive first thus delaying my debut onto the field. In this regard I was not so lucky. The call went up for the kickoff team and all I could do was bless myself and say to Him what he must be sick of hearing from me at this stage – please don’t let me feck this up. I had what I’d best describe as first date nerves: if this goes well I’m going to be very happy and will wonder why I worried but if I goes badly I’ll have to delete her number and I’ll never be able to frequent certain bars again. In this case she drinks in my local so the stakes were high. In near blind panic I asked the ref where the kickoff was from. (Interestingly nobody from the Spartans organisation thought this was important information to tell me). All he would say was the same place as the NFL. Tentatively I placed the ball on the 35 yard line and awaited a whistle. I stepped back 10 yards, cupped my hands a la Johnny Wilkinson, took a deep breath and let rip. Seconds later the ball was stopped at their 35 and I trotted off happy in the knowledge that Act 1 had went well.

Two punts later and I was suddenly up and about. The previous play a Pitbull had tried to clean my out when I came into the vicinity of the play. I’d spotted him a mile off but didn’t move until he got close. Some pleasantries were exchanged and now I was riled up. In training, I half seriously asked the coaches to let me stretch my legs and throw the fake punt – essentially the plan was to pin back my ears and run for Ireland.  On this day Coach Moss had identified a weak link in their defensive set up and was actually keen for me to exploit it. Coach Moss is an intense dude come game day. He is the sort of person who would have excelled in the Gaelic Athletic Association – a man so passionate about his area and his sport that he self-funded the Spartans and who dedicates his life to the cause. When he places his confidence in you, it is a real morale boaster. So on my fifth punt of the game, he gave the signal. My “protector” G was to make a hole and I was to run through it until I got passed the first down marker. G and I have struck up what must be as unlikely a friendship as they come – the kid from West Africa and the kid from the West of Ireland shouldn’t have much common ground. But we share a passion to do our best and I knew I was in good hands if he was going to be making the hole. The snap came and predictably I fumbled it. When I picked it up, I raised my head just in time to see G clean a bloke out.

Hello hole, hello first down, I don’t think we’ve met before.

I was bundled out of bounds (please, I’m way too pretty to try and cut in field) and arose to a mass of green and black shirts congratulating me. On the next play our running back Goose showed me how to properly exploit a hole and suddenly we were a different animal. Alas it all arrived too late for us to change the outcome but in that short spell we should why we’ll be contenders come the summer.

Every so often the last card dealt is another 4 and you sit there and try to contain your joy as you casually extend your arms to collect your chips along with his. Your swagger back, you reassure everybody that you knew what you were doing but under it all you thank God and convince yourself you’ll never gamble again. Well until next Saturday that is. Roll on the rest of the season.

Follow Seamus on twitter @fbspecial