Declan Clarke is an artist and filmmaker. He also writes about football history and culture. When I shared the news of the recent arson attack on Drogheda Boys/Girls FC it prompted him to write what follows:
Gary Kelly’s Face
It was 27 years ago, virtually to the day. May 29th, 1994, a Sunday evening. Ireland were gearing up for the World Cup and had a pre tournament friendly against the reigning world champions Germany, in Hannover’s Niedersachsenstadion. Big Jack Charlton could afford to experiment with his team, but wasn’t taking too many chances against the world’s top dogs. Most of the first eleven were there: Paul McGrath, Dennis Irwin, Terry Phelan, Phil Babb, Roy Keane, Jason McAteer, Steve Staunton, Andy Townsend, and big Tony Cascarino up front. Alan Kelly got a run out in goal.
Pre tournament friendlies are about preparation for the big stage, and getting the first team ready, while rotating through some of the squad. A delicate balancing act.
The pressure was on Berti Vogts too. He had taken over Der Mannschaft from the outgoing Franz Beckenbauer after the latter had brought West Germany their third World Cup title in 1990. Every previous West Germany national manager had won either the World Cup, the Euros, or both. Sepp Herberger? The World Cup in 1954. Helmut Schön? Euro 72 and the World Cup in ’74. Jupp Derwall? Euro 80. And then Beckenbauer in Italia 90.
They had dropped the ‘West’ prefix, and were now just Germany. A team of West Germans and Mathias Sammer, Thomas Doll and Andreas Thom had made the Euro 92 final, but ballsed up the script and lost to surprise package Denmark. It ain’t easy going back to back on the international level. Or it didn’t used to be anyway. So, Vogts wasn’t taking the Ireland game lightly, and his match day squad featured only one East German – Sammer. Rudi Völler started on the bench, but was introduced, as was Stefan Effenberg. Football’s Everest loomed on the horizon, no time for gadding about.
I remember the game well. I was nineteen, was headed to Berlin for the summer, and had a good feeling about Ireland in the World Cup. We were good, could hold our own against the best teams around, and could play the ball on the carpet if required. No one liked playing us.
Germany, now this was a proper test.
A half hour in and McAteer skipped down the right wing and crossed to the near post, Thomas Strunz back-headed it clear, but the ball looped to the far post, where big Tone lurked, heading in a customary goal past Germany’s goalkeeper Bodo Illgner.
Germany 0 Ireland 1.
Ireland were comfortable in their lead, so Big Jack rolled the dice at half-time. He brought on the nineteen year old Gary Kelly for Dennis Irwin. I was amazed to see a player my age, coming on for Ireland, against the world champions. My father was thrilled, as like himself, Gary Kelly was a Louthman. My mother, from just north of the border in South Armagh, was also excited for him as we watched, and she thought Gary Kelly looked like my little brother, which helped. This was a local lad in every sense of the word, it almost felt like family out there in Hannover.
Kelly had just that season broken in to the first team at Leeds United, and when he came on he did what extremely talented young players do when they get on the biggest stage – he played like he was in the local park. His speed and skill on the ball, and his ability to look up and get up the field meant he won possession regularly in Germany’s half, and when he did so, he just ran at them.
In the 68th minute, a long ball in to Cascarino was badly cleared by the Germany back line, and Kelly gathered it at the edge of the box, cut inside and fired a left-footed shot at goal, a deflection from the panicked Germany defence guiding it around Illgner.
Germany 0 Ireland 2.
In his third international appearance, and five weeks from his 20th birthday, Gary Kelly had scored his first international goal against the world champions. As he rushed to celebrate with the fans, his teammates swamped him, but what I remember most was his face. The utter joy and disbelief it held has stayed with me, and when I think of what it must be like to achieve something you thought beyond possibility, I think of Gary Kelly’s face in that moment.
As you may have seen, the club where he first learned the trade in endured an arson attack this month resulting in €50,000 worth of damage. It may be a tiny club, but all clubs are part of football, and clubs like Drogheda Boys F.C. are the ones we should really be feeling sympathy for when we hear Real Madrid, Barcelona and Juventus complaining about how the European Super League was the only way they could keep their deplorably run juggernauts of monopoly finance on the road they built for themselves alone to traverse.
Drogheda Boys F.C. have a proud football history, and are one of a select few clubs globally to have their club crest adorned with a star and crescent emblem. The reason, supposedly, is because of the aid sent by Abdulmejid I, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, to the area during the Great Irish Famine.
Inspired by Abdulmejid I, (or was it Neil McAvinia?), and following on from others, I have made a small donation. In football’s Mount Olympus, Zeus and Hera were very kind to us this week, gifting us Villarreal’s extraordinary penalty shootout win over ESL plotters Manchester United. Let’s not anger the football gods, and let’s show that we too care about the footballing proletariat.
The club are very close to reaching their target, hopefully they’ll get it over the line.
Thanks to Neil for sharing the fundraising appeal:
Drogheda Boys FC appeal after arson attack., organized by Graham Campbell
neilmcavinia.com 