Wood’s Irish Pride Safely Restored
by CATHAL DERVAN
WE rose from our slumbers early on the morning the clocks went back here in Ireland, just as Irish rugby rose from a four year slumber far away in deepest Adelaide.
On Sunday, after losing the benefit of the extra hour in bed brought on by the end of summertime, a lot of us sat in front of the television, strong coffee in hand. Quite a lot of us.
A friend of mine, who wouldn’t know the difference between a ruck and a maul, even woke his eldest son to witness history in the making in a land down under.
And he wasn’t disappointed as Keith Wood and his rugby heroes finally exorcised the memories of a very bad day at the World Cup office in Lens back in the autumn of 1999.
Then, Ireland’s rugby aristocrats were humbled by Argentina in a playoff game to decide who went through to the quarterfinals of the oval ball’s greatest tournament.
The Irish, led by coach Warren Gatland, were so odds-on to advance that fans had already sent good wishes for the quarterfinals to the team’s Finnstown House hotel back in Dublin.
Argentina found that quite amusing when they landed in Lucan ahead of the last eight, after a quite sensational win over the Irish in the north French industrial town.
Their amusement was in stark contrast to the emotions of their victims. Some of the Irish players that night never played for their country again, cast to the wilderness in the wake of their Puma pounding.
Others, like Reggie Corrigan, spent a long time out of favor before finally making it back to the international stage.
And even Gatland, though he kept his job in the immediate aftermath of the worst result in Irish rugby history, never really recovered his reputation or his standing.
Which may well explain why so many of us dragged ourselves out of a Sunday morning slumber to watch the action from Australia live, a broadcast that attracted the largest viewing figures for a rugby match since the Grand Slam showdown with England last March.
One man held our attention more than most as the coffee cooled and the action warmed up in the Adelaide Oval.
Wood has had more serious injuries than hot dinners. For at least two years now he has been fighting imminent retirement from a shoulder injury with the same determination that launched countless Irish wins.
He refused to give in however, refused to confirm our worst fears, even before Ireland set sail for Oz, that this was his final crack of the whip.
All the while, we suspected, he had been waiting for another crack at the Argies before calling down the curtains on one of the finest Irish sporting careers ever.
Well now, at last, Keith can bow out with dignity and respect if he does retire once Ireland’s World Cup run comes to an end.
No matter what happens against Australia next Saturday, Woody is guaranteed at least a World Cup quarterfinal, against France or Scotland, as his potential swan-song after leading the Irish to a quite fantastic, quite narrow, one point win by 16 points to 15 in the Oval last Sunday.
The game was as dramatic as the scoreline suggested.
How did Ireland win then, how did they erase the memories of Lens? Because Eddie O’Sullivan, unlike Brian Kerr in Basel, had players who knew how to roll their sleeves up and graft for their country when it really mattered.
Men like Keith Wood and Alan Quinlan and Ronan O’Gara who were there to be counted when it really mattered as we watched with a mixture of pride and awe last Sunday morning.
A fortnight after that Swiss debacle it was, at last, a pleasure to be Irish once again. It was also a pleasure to rest comfortably in the knowledge that Keith Wood is one of our own, as fine a man as this country has ever produced.
He may never play for his country again after this World Cup but that counts for nothing now. Keith Wood masterminded a win over Argentina last Sunday, a win that was four years in the making.
No matter what else he does for the rest of his life, Woody can retire with his pride restored. He can even, I suspect, die happy now.
The ghost has been laid to rest. At last.
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