Carlsberg don't do the Euros but if they did.....

So around this time last year Euro 2016 kicked off and Ireland were preparing for their first game against Sweden. The game was to be played on a Monday at 5.00 pm Irish time and that morning an optimistic mood filled the nation, the likes we had not seen since Italia 90. Sure we couldn't do any worse than 2012, could we? There was alot less traffic on the road this morning and alot more people availing of public transport including the oft unreliable 142 bus which takes me to work each day. As our bus stop is the last before the bus hits the motorway and next stop the Point (3 arena me hole) we were all a little pissed when the bus drove straight past, absolutely jammers. When you get the same bus every day you get to know the faces and say hello or nod or acknowledge the same folk and the talk turned to the bus newbies coming over here taking our bus seats and how we would still be there tomorrow when they were back in their cars, however our sense of self entitlement was cut short when another 142 arrived only half full. Seems like Dublin Bus had the foresight to realise that the best place to watch the big game was on the big screen and that most people would be leaving the car at home. Luckily I managed to get a seat upstairs in front of 2 newbie buswankers (as opposed to me a veteran buswanker) both wearing Ireland jerseys and being new to the bus had difficulty finding their bus voices, speaking so loudly that the bus ahead of them could hear their conversation. Anyway Buswanker 1  is telling Buswanker 2 how he told "his mot" that he was working til 6 that night so would probably pop into the pub for the last 20 minutes of the match. When Buswanker 2 asks what time he is actually finishing at, he says about 2.00, I took a halfer, the whole of the bus (upstairs and down) lets out a big cheers and a chorus of ole, ole, ole, breaks out with the bus driver joining in by beeping his horn along to the singing. It's gonna be a special day,

So anyway I get to work and all the talk is about the game, what the team should be, what formation we should play, is Ibrahimovic actually that good and does he need to be man marked or should we just play our own game, but far more importantly who is watching it where, who is bunking out early, and who is gonna be stuck minding the fort. There's lots of options stay local (city centre) take the halfer and head for home or sample a proper match atmosphere at the official fan zone, but me.... I will be watching the game with me dad who is infirmed in Beaumont Hospital til they can sort out an infection by way and endless supply of drip fed antibiotics. The folks in work are feeling bad for me cause I don't get to go to he pub, but me, I'm quite looking forward to watching it with the da and on the plus side because I was going to the hospital I got first call on bunk out and get to leave work around 3.30, leaving making a mental note to do a buswanker 1 and say I was going to hospital for the next game, even if I was going to the pub. 

Half of Dublin must be "going to hospital" as the quays from Smithfield to Eden Quay are awash with people in green jerseys and one large pocket of yellow on the boardwalk but there is a party going on and the greens and yellow mingle and trade songs with each other listening respectfully then everybody cheering at the end of the songs. I don't know any of the yellow songs and the greens dont seem to know the words to their own songs, but nobody seems to care too much. My 10 minute walk seems to be taking a little longer as I soak up the atmosphere but reckon I better get a move on if I am to make the 27B to the hospital, Both sets of fans must know I'm shooting off and tempt me to stay with the worst (and strangely enough) the best rendition of Molly Malone ever. I manage to get the bus at 15.50 (for a 45 minute journey) and then have to make my way to the ward on the 5th floor so reckon I should be there in time for the anthems but due to lack of traffic (sure everyone is in the pub) the bus takes about 20 minutes and I'm in front of the screen by 4.30. There was a party atmosphere in the hospital too, beds were pulled from the wall so patients could get a better view of the telly, visiting time is usually 6 - 8 but this is relaxed for the day that is in it and the 2 person visiting rule which is very rarely enforced in any event is going to be overlooked It feels like the day the teacher decided that its so nice that we will have lessons outside today or the time Andy played the Marriage of Figaro over the intercom in The Shawshank Redemption. In any event it just didn't seem like the same St. Peter;s ward I had visited the evening before.

So anyway in the ward there is, the da, a lady beside us not to fussed with the football, another aul lad asleep who "didn't give a fuck about football" two other people who had gone out for the day (to watch the football) and Ireland's greatest football fan, a lad in his late 50s with an Ireland jersey on scarf, green sponge top hat 2 shake your shamrocks and a must for any footie fan a Euro 2016 wall chart on the wall beside him. I engage him in conversation, much to the annoyance of me da who tells me on the sly he is a headwrecker and has been talking shite about the football all day and how he probably never seen a real football match in his life. Captain football had told me he was expecting a few friends in to watch the game but at this stage he is getting a little anxious as it it 10 minutes to kick off and his friends have still not arrived. No need to worry though as a 3 man conga line (actual conga line) with the combined ago of around 180 and a combined alcohol count of a city centre hostelry on St. Patrick's Day rock in 5 minutes before kick off, to a very disjointed singing of ole ole ole (its the same word over... how hard can in be???)

So the first half passes without incident or so we are lead to believe as we are watching the game on a tiny screen which for some reason is chained to a tv stand, bolted to the ceiling, seriously you couldn't give this yoke away, but were enjoying it in any event. We are particularly enjoying one of the conga men who despite not having much of an idea what is going on (and not just with the football) is giving his running commentary on the game. "Is that a new Ireland jersey?  whose that Hendrick lad? them Sweden are shite aren't they? I don't know how were not 10 nil up. When is he bringing Robbie Keane on? Is he playing in America now? Remember he play for AC Milan, or was it Inter? it was one of the Milans probably Juventus....or that crowd Gazza played for. The second half kicks off and within minutes we are one up when a Wes Hoolihan belter finds it way into the back of the net, "wild" celebrations ensue followed by I told you we will win 10 nil. Shoulda went to the bookies. Just as well he didn't coz 15 minutes later conga would have done his money as Ciaran Clark puts through his own net ruining his 10 nil prediction. The game petered out with both sides apparently happy to take a point and as the full time whistle blows we prepare for congas post match analysis. 

However congas aftermatch contribution was a mere 7 words (and I quote) right that's me, I'm off, mind yourself. I'm guessing they drew the short straw and had to forgo the pub to watch the game with their friend, and watch the game they would, but he can be fucked if they are wasting any more pub time on apres match no matter how gas it is. Captain football seems resigned to his fate but is thankful to the lads for giving up their early evening to watch the game with him.  I engage Captain football again, and yet again much to the annoyance of my dad, and after a brief conversation about how gas it is that my name is "George like your da" he informes me another friend is on the way in, (I'm guessing he lost the second sweepstake). His friend duly arrives (just as I'm pushing my da's bed back to its proper place, smelling like a small brewery but is a pleasant fellah and says hello to everyone in the ward individually. After doing the rounds football friend asks captain football if he enjoyed the match and it all kicks off. Captain Football goes off on one like a man possessed. 

Enjoy the match. How the fuck could I enjoy the fuckin match, look at the size of that fuckin telly and look how far away from it I am, and how could you enjoy the match with them three shites they never shut up once and they know fuck all about football between the three of them... do you want a fucking grape or, or what even are these things??? Peaches? What the fuck am I going to do with peaches? NURSE... NURSE (enter nurse rapidly) Nurse will you fuck this lot in the bin, them three gobshites brought them in for me.. grapes and oranges and peaches.. lookit.... what I am going to do with them, fuck them in the bin for me will ya, 

I'm getting really pised with him at this stage and  have to admit to the da that he was right (as always) and that yer man was a right pain in the arse. Now him getting one up on me is normally the highlight of his day but what happened next was the highlight of all the time we ever shared in hospital. "Does he ever give it up? I asked him and his reply was .. "Someone would want to tell Georgie Burgess to shut the fuck up and go make some chips" Now I started laughing straight away but it took him a second to realise what he had just said and his face lit up with that mischievous grin of his, which quickly turned into a bit of a snigger and then into a full belly laugh. We were laughing so hard I had to pull the curtain around us, coz we reckoned Captain football knew we were laughing at him.  We hid and laughed like a couple of bold school kids for about 5 minutes before a nurse stuck her head in between the curtains to see if we were ok and that just started us off again. It must have took us a full 20 minutes to calm down, It was only when we finally calmed down that I realised I had borrowed a phone charger from Captain football and we spent another half hour laughing as da dared me to give it back..... without laughing. It was one of those days when I didn't want to leave but once he fell asleep, tuckered out from the laughing I said goodbye to Captain football and left.

Sometimes it's not the size of the telly, or the coolness of the beer or the rubbishness of the football.....but the company that you keep. Carlsberg don't do the Euros but if they did........