The father of the child is the lad United bought from Ajax a few years back that wasn’t able to play kick and rush soccer. ‘Tis no wonder it’s an Arsenal jersey he is wearing.
Yer only a gasún!
I ended up in Portiuncula the day before the '88 final, watched it with 2 of my best mates in the hospital ward. I was supposed to meet a girl at a do in Ffrenchs, Monivea the night before but my accident didn’t allow that. They were trying to keep my spirits up telling me I was still in with a chance. Alas no.
1980 is the first I remember. England fans running amok in Turin, I think it was.
Weather was awful. Limerick made the hurling final which was my first time in Croke Park. We had Roscommon neighbours who decorated the locality as they had made the football final. Sadly, we all ended up disappointed.
The Italian police dealt fairly savagely with them. Sent them home with their tea in a mug. The Germans mugged Belgium off in the final. Late goal by Horst Hrubesch defeated the Wilfrid van Moer inspired Belgians.
I was with a German when Jimmy Magee made that remark (in the 1982 World Cup). I asked did they really call him the Monster and my German acquaintance confirmed that this was indeed the case. In an earlier time you could easily imagine Hrubesch as an SS Camp Commandant.
I was buying a sega megadrive in town at the exact moment when when Gazza flipped it over Colin Henry’s head at Euro 96. I can’t remember even asking for one. My mam and dad were always too good to me tbh.