Fortnight Publications Ltd.

Where Was the Soccer?Author(s): Robert AllenSource: Fortnight, No. 266 (Oct., 1988), p. 29Published by: Fortnight Publications Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25551713 .

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dislocating experience sonable offence." Two boots are walking. They kick out, threatening us. This is all we ever see

of the bigot. We hear, however, how he lies in

the shrubbery of his garden, filming the feet of

passers-by. He places a ball on the pavement. The foot they kick with determines their relig

ion. The rest is history.

Although the material draws heavily on Northern Ireland, the artist has taken care not to

make it exclusive to the province. The final

scene is the bigot and the newcomer, to whom

it is explained "how things are and how they will stay". The newcomer could be Catholic or

Protestant. He could as easily be homosexual

or Bengali?bigotry is not prejudiced in its choice of victim.

Seagrave herself holds some strong opin ions. The apparently innocent mistake which

generates the Chronicle of a Bigot is explained: "As most typists and secretaries are in fact

women, let us take the point that this error was,

moreover, no error at all and was, instead, a

deliberate attempt to illustrate the blind devo

tion of those following instructions without

question or conscience. The woman perceived that most of the detainees would in fact be men and was happy with her perception."

The ability to make confident assertions

without becoming bigoted oneself is an issue not dealt with explicitly in her work but it

pervades how she presents it. A favourite word

of the artist is' cordially' and it is in this manner that her work is presented. We are thanked for

our interest. Her careful and polite treatment of j

her audience is not mere whim: it reinforces a

mode of communication between artist and

viewer based on mutual respect.

Seagrave treats her own reactions to the

world with a mixture of humour and serious

ness. These often seem wayward, but there is a

method in her madness fascinating to trace.

The madness itself is a method to avoid her

thoughts being written in tablets of stone?and

taking on the certainty of the bigot's dogma.

ROBERT ALLEN reports on a sporting international where the terrace war was the main attraction

Where was the soccer?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

^^^^^^^^^^ ^ ^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^ _>

^LBBBBLBm^BBBBBBBi Short-lived ecstasy for Tony Cascarlno?the referee gave

Allen McKnight the benefit of the doubt

THE NIGHT of September 14 was remarkable. The two Irish soccer nations fought each other at Windsor Park, battling for World Cup qualify

ing points. On the pitch there was something distinctly

un-Irish about the game. Players and soccer

commentators alike had, in the previous week,

described it as a typical English first-division

game, played by English league professionals. Yet more than 20,000 crowded in, the major

ity unashamedly patriotic, displaying the sym bols and emblems of unionism and loyalism. Scattered amongst them were a few thousand

beleaguered Republic of Ireland supporters, who, despite the Irish Football Association's decision not to allocate tickets to people resident

in the 26 counties, managed to get into the

ground. The game ended goalless, a point awarded to each. The Irish media, north and

south, said there were no losers, that soccer had

won. They were wrong: Irish soccer had lost.

The game began in a frenzy. The Northern Ireland defender Alan McDonald hit the Repub lic of Ireland midfielder Kevin Sheedy hard,

with a two-footed tackle on the edge of the

penalty area. Most of the crowd roared their

approval. The referee wasn't as amused?

McDonald was booked. From the free kick the

Republic of Ireland striker Tony Cascarino saw his header come off the post and seemingly go over the line. There was an immediate appeal for

a goal from the southern fans. The referee, again on the spot, decided that the Northern Ireland

goalkeeper, Allen McKnight, had smothered the ball on the line. Barely three minutes had gone.

On the terraces there was similar excitment.

About 30 Republic of Ireland fans, who had somehow managed to obtain tickets for the

Spion Kop end, demanded to be let on to the terraces where thousands of northern fans be

decked in Union and Ulster flags screamed sectarian hatred at the foreign team and its followers. The stewards told them it wouldn't be a good idea if they went into the Kop?it was

diplomatically suggested they might be

lynched. The southern fans insisted. A compro mise was reached: the fans were moved else

where, to submit to the abuse from a distance.

The game continued. The players and the

commentators were right: it was a typical Eng lish first-division game. Goalmouth incidents,

hard tackles, no quarter given, exciting changes of pace, tension on the terraces from a capacity crowd. Just like at Old Trafford or Anfield, except that this was Windsor Park, home of

Linfield Football Club?and this was Belfast and it wasn't football. It was the north of Ireland

versus the south, unionism versus nationalism,

"Fenian bastards" and "Taigs go home".

Many of the southern fans couldn't believe

their ears. Most didn't understand the connota

tions, the association between catholic and ' taig'. This was a football game between the two

Irelands (even though many of the Republic's team were born in England). "Ireland! Ireland!"

chanted the southerners. "Shit! Shit!" the north

ern fans retorted. It was as close to soccer banter

as they would get all evening. The IFA had said no provocative flags and

emblems would be allowed into the ground. This ban, endorsed by FIFA, the body which

governs world soccer, was ignored by most of

the northern supporters. And above the stand the

Union flag, hoisted by Linfield FC, was allowed to remain. Neutrals could have been forgiven for

asking: 'What about the soccer?'

Northern Ireland now has three points from

two games and sits atop group six. It has still to

face Hungary and Spain, which with Malta make up the group. Only two teams can qualify. The Republic and Spain, according to the North ern Ireland manager, Billy Bingham, are favour

ites. There is a strong feeling in Irish soccer that the north may lose out and Bingham's dream of

reaching three World Cup finals in succession will be denied him. But he's a cute hoor.

His new team, which he rebuilt after the

Mexico World Cup finals, is one of the youngest Northern Ireland teams ever. The heroes of the

Republic game, Allen McKnight and Michael O'Neill, have only 12 caps between them. Many observers expected Bingham to select David

McCreery in midfield for his experience and

maturity. Instead he opted for a ball-playing midfieki?Michael O'Neill and Danny Wilson, with Steven Penney and Kingsley Black on the

wings. Bingham said he never had any intention

of selecting McCreery. Clearly he is going ahead with the younger players at his disposal.

Against first Hungary in Budapest and then

Spain in Seville it could be difficult. Players talk of tradition and that means Northern Ireland

should do well against Spain. But Hungary, which did poorly in the European championship qualifiers, also has a tradition of doing well in

World Cup games. Many years ago the IFA and its counterpart

in Dublin, the Football Association of Ireland, chose their players from the 32 counties, often

selecting the same ones. In the late 40s, when the

World Cup was restarted after the second world

war, FIFA decided that teams could only be selected from players born in their own country.

The rules have changed a wee bit since then.

That's why, at Windsor Park last month, there were 22 players on display, many born in

England, playing a typical English first-division

game?in front of a crowd who mostly thought they were witnessing, and participating on one

side of, a new Irish war of independence.

Fortnight October 29

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