Showing posts with label Anthony McIntyre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anthony McIntyre. Show all posts
Anthony McIntyre ⚽Which defeat to write about was the only decision to be made on tonight's piece.


Initially, I felt I'd blog the usual post-match summary of the Drogheda game up in Sligo which I attended with my friend Alfie. The Drogs put up a spirited fight but went down 3-1 to a much rejuvenated Sligo who have had quite the success against Louth opposition in recent weeks.  On the return journey to Dublin my daughter rang and asked if I would like to join her and her boyfriend in Cusack's on the North Strand Road for a Patrick's Day drink. Normally I find Patrick's Day too rowdy and tend not to go out on the swally.  But as Liverpool were playing Manchester United in the FA Cup I told her I'd head over to her from Connolly Station and watch the second half of the game.

So that was what decided tonight's post. The fate of the Drogs will have to wait until later in the week. 

The bar was full with a mixture of Patrick's Day revellers, swollen by the presence of Manchester United and Liverpool fans.  It was twenty minutes before my daughter managed to find a stool for me to plant myself on, one that swivelled. Most comfortable bar stool I have sat on in yonks. Liverpool were 2-1 up as they emerged for the second half. For most of it they seemed the better side but a failure to clear their lines allowed Manchester United to draw level, sending the game into extra time. Each set of supporters cheered when their team scored but there was no in-your-face bragging rights. Two woeful blunders in extra time allowed the Manchester men to steal a march on Liverpool by emulating the Scousers' penchant for scoring late winners. Now Liverpool are out of the cup. The quadruple has gone but I never seriously considered it as a realistic prospect. Still to lose a game they should comfortably have won left a bad taste in the mouth made no less acrid by Guinness and Jameson.

When the game was 3-3 courtesy of a careless pass from a weary Darwin Nunez I had flashbacks to the 1990 semi final in the same competition which saw Liverpool knocked out, going down 4-3 to Crystal Palace. And so it turned out. Harvey Elliot who came on as a sub and put the Merseyside men in front in extra time blundered after a corner kick, leading to a quick United counter attack which sealed Liverpool's fate. 

It is disappointing that Klopp will leave his post at the season's end without this trophy under his belt but ten Hag needed the victory more than the German. This victory gives him some breathing space. 

While it was a game for Liverpool to win there can be no churlishness shown towards United who did what they had to do and never gave up. The Liverpool boss summed it up:

Our decision making was not great. You have to accept the result. They deserve to go to the next round. It was a period in the second half when we should have finished it but we didn't and we know they could come back.

On the train journey home a Dundalk woman sat in the seat beside me. She had been on the beer in Dublin for Patrick's Day and told me all abut it! The one consolation was that she didn't like sport so both of us were spared a inquest-cum-rant on Liverpool's misfortune. Worse ways, I guess, to conclude a disappointing sporting weekend. 

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Blunderpool

Anthony McIntyre ☠  One of the more unpalatable aspects of Sinn Fein's decision to bestow shamrock on US president Joe Biden on Patrick's Day is former republican prisoners including hunger strikers trying to justify it.

All the H-Block fist waving against the malevolence of US imperialism has become nothing more than hot air.  

Much of this is the outworking of the success both the London and Dublin political establishments have achieved in moulding Sinn Fein in their own image, something the artist Carlos Latuff captured in his graphic mural which was obliterated before being restored to the International Wall in West Belfast. Here kneels Ireland's coalition.


Since the onset of the Israeli genocide in Gaza, and not taking account of the Patrick's Day issue, Sinn Fein on at least three occasions has been embroiled in controversy over its stance on Gaza.

  • The refusal to vote for a proposal to abstain in Belfast City Council from a motion calling for the expulsion of the Israeli ambassador from Ireland
  • the contrasting expulsion of a number of Palestinian protestors from a Sinn Fein event in Belfast
  • the blacking out of the Latuff mural.

We know for certain the party was responsible for the first two and while the evidence is inconclusive, thus not allowing us to be definitive about the culpability for the mural destruction, most observers seem to take the view that it is unlikely to have been the work of anybody else. As someone mockingly quipped on Twitter, it might have been Fine Gael's West Belfast youth wing.

I don't really expect much else from Sinn Fein, which as an institution has long since been turned by officialdom from poacher to gamekeeper. We could at the very least have expected more from former prisoners. Michelle O'Neill in the her comments following the release of the Kenova Report appeared to draw a line between the Good Friday Sinn Fein generation and that which waged the IRA's war prior to the GFA. She is not wrong to make that assertion, but is merely restating what critics of the party have been pointing out for decades. Good Friday republicanism, if it may be called that, amounts to a total resiling from Easter Sunday republicanism. Sinn Fein now more resembles not those republicans who fought the war but those whom they fought the war against. This is what makes the current shilling by former prisoners all the more lamentable. 

While not unexpected it is certainly disappointing that Sinn Fein has opted to prove its establishment credentials by agreeing to be a shamrock bearing cheer leader for the Biden White House. The real shock would have come had the party followed the example of Colm Eastwood of the SDLP who has taken up a much more radical stance than former IRA prisoners. 

Take Pat Sheehan, for example, once a close friend of mine and for whom I retain a measure of affection, bearing him no personal animosity whatsoever. At a recent rally he urged supporters not to feel beholden to the BDS campaign and cited the example of Glasgow Celtic supporters who a few years back turned up for a game against an Israeli team. He spoke glowingly of how the supporters wore their keffiyehs, waved their flags and chanted their support for Palestinians.

It is a fair point but a fake comparison. I would support Sinn Fein attending the Scandalous Shamrock Soirée if it too waved flags and thrust the images of murdered Palestinian babies in the face of Genocide Joe. Imagine the message that would transmit to the world rather than the cringeworthy image of of the party's leaders standing smiling with Biden rather than presenting him with a framed photo of a starving Palestinian child.

2023

2024

But we know that is not going to happen in a party where deference displaces defiance. Not a keffiyeh on display during the Ireland Funds national gala. It is most unlikely that the party will follow the lead of former Irish president Mary Robinson and call on Biden to his face while it is in Washington to prohibit all weapons sales and funds to Israel.

Later today the weekly vigil for Gaza will take place in Drogheda's West Street. I will not be there as I have an early train to Sligo where the Drogs will take on the home side later this evening. At one of the previous gatherings, I met a friend who I had not seen in a while. He shook his head in despair, observing to me that whatever Sinn Fein has done in the past, shafting everybody for a piece of power pie, abandoning the Palestinians was an all time low.  

I have no doubt that Sinn Fein is strongly opposed to genocide and does not approve of Biden' role in it. But unless the party seizes the opportunities that present themselves, it will find itself on the receiving end of the accusation that it never misses an opportunity to miss an opportunity. Ireland's situation does matter and Sinn Fein is right to raise it. But when a genocide is occurring those on the receiving end must take priority. The victim not the perpetrator should be made to matter most in Washington.

Hand Biden a wreath on Patrick's Day not a shamrock.

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Junket For Genocide

Anthony McIntyre ⚽ I went to The Pheasant thinking a bird of a different kind, the Liver bird, would fail to fly.


Or, if it managed to get off the ground, its sojourn in the sky would be short lived, it would certainly be out of the running for any of the Masters of the Air awards, to borrow from the title of the gripping World War 2 drama we are currently watching.

I was uncertain if I even wanted to go to the pub, considering that watching it from home would be as good an option, and the debit card would be considerably less debited on completion of the game. A path I seemed more settled on once I had rang Paddy and he was for stretching out on the settee with a few cans. Still, that all changed as the persuasion from my son grew in intensity and achieved the outcome he wanted - me paying for the drinks!

After telling him to set up a pint of Guinness for me, I strolled down. In the absence of Paddy I was in the company of three teenagers, one of them an Arsenal supporter. Wasn't hard to work out what result he was hoping for. 

What a game. Each time the Reds leave the pitch it is like watching the return of the squadrons from Masters of the Air, fewer faces available for the next foray. With a squad seriously depleted due to injury, Jurgen Klopp has, in his final season in charge, again worked his magic. The team that faced Manchester City at Anfield on Sunday was not the one that turned up at the Emirates last month to be mowed down by the Gunners. This was the team that came out onto the turf of Wembley determined to go down fighting but preferably not down at all. As it proved to be the old Status Quo 70s hit Down Down was not going to echo around Anfield after this one on Sunday. 

After something of a less than assured start, Liverpool upped a gear and really took it to City, particularly in the second half. As a match commentator said it is rare to see the Etihad men so hemmed in. Intense soccer, far from the flat and pedestrian performances so often served up in the EPL, with Liverpool being no exception. But as my son observes, this Klopp side always manages to raise its game to the level of its opponents. Against City, the altitude to be reached was always going to be in the stratosphere yet Klopp turned out a side that not only got there but had the stamina to remain and for much of the game could gaze down on their opponents.

That said, it was never one way traffic or a cruise for the home side.  Pep Guardiola's team hugely contributed to one of the best games of soccer in the EPL this season. City could have snatched it in the closing minutes when a shot rebounded off the post. Liverpool too could claim to have been denied a penalty well into time added on, which if awarded would have seemed harsh. 

I left the Pheasant and the three teenagers behind, feeling that a draw was a fair result. Liverpool are now in three horse race as the home straight beckons, the fences ahead to be either jumped or fallen at. With Aintree so close to Anfield, those who believe in astrology, see the symbolic gallop of the Klopp steeplechaser picking up pace. The jury of astronomers is still out. 

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Flight Of The Liver Bird

Anthony McIntyre 🔖 As events this week have shown, albeit not as transparently as many would have wished for, the British state fought a dirty war against the Provisional IRA.


Not as vicious as the Dirty War waged from 1976-83 by the Argentine military junta, the British state nevertheless when asked to show its hands to the world, wore every type of glove imaginable to conceal its grime stained palms and fingers. When British military figures complain that they were never allowed to take their gloves of during the conflict, Richard O'Rawe in his introduction to the world of Murder Incorporated helps us more readily understand why.

Stakeknife's Dirty War introduces to the public one of the key figures relied upon by the British State to wage that war and in so doing achieves what Operation Kenova fails to - he firmly identifies the former head of the IRA's Internal Security Unit Freddie Scappaticci as the agent Stakeknife.

Why Kenova failed to confirm what everybody knows is an indication of how little the public can expect from its report. While I never thought from the outset that any prosecutions would result, I became unflinchingly convinced of that belief once the Kenova team charged Scappaticci with possession of animal porn. There seemed only one reason for that. Given what the state had swept under the carpet, the comparatively minor offence of possessing extreme pornography, could as easily have been buried in the files marked 'murder'  It is not that there was a shortage of them within which to conceal a picture of Freddie and his favourite donkey, dog or duck. There seemed one glaring reason for porn prosecution - to ensure that Scap would have been discredited as a witness should he ever turn up in a court to face his British army handlers.  That was a signpost from Kenova emblazoned with 'cul-de-sac.' So despite this week's press conference and the flashing bulbs from cameras, Kenova emitted more heat than light. 

The book sets out as it intends to go on - a compromised IRA operation which led to the commander, interviewed by the author, to assume that the hidden hand of the informer was at play. An omnipresent in the history of armed republican rebellion the type has become reviled for the damage it has wreaked in republican ranks. The ostensible task of the informer is to disrupt. If the state and its shills are to be believed then the state was the fisher of men and what it caught in its net, the saver of lives. That tall tale has been cut down to size, O'Rawe, and this week Kenova, firmly putting the myth to bed. Informers, with the approval of their State handlers, were often causing more deaths than they were preventing. 

Even if the ethics of agent handler is cast aside in a realpolitik trade-off where success is measured in terms of fewer graves, the whole exercise has proved redundant. Stakeknife, unlike one of the IRA army council figures who kept him in position, was not into the business of secret graves. His undertaking trade is quantifiable and the balance sheet is not a healthy one. Agents were merchants of death, and often the parachutes they were given failed to open because they were designed not to. Most of them were rescued only after they had died. 

Richard O'Rawe set himself the unenviable task of putting a face on the monster that was Stakeknife. He did not set out to polish a turd as the late British general John Wilsey did. The reader can figuratively smell the stench of decomposition wafting from the pages. 

Freddie Scappaticci's early life emerges to see the light of day. No one else has painted such a detailed picture of one of Britain's knives that were plunged into the heart of not only the Provisional IRA and its victims, but also eviscerated the rule of law. In short there was no rule of law, merely the rule of law enforcement. O'Rawe makes it clear that Steak was not the only type of knife brandished. The solicitor for many of the families said this week that there were many knives manufactured for cutting up the IRA's war effort. Given the desire of the British - aided by Sinn Fein leaders and agents of influence - to cover up for its abominations, the war generation will most likely not live long enough to discover those other knives: pork knives, fish knives, boning knives, bangers knives, paring knives. A catalogue of them could be put together, stamped made in Britain for sale in Ireland.

O'Rawe describes Scappaticci as 'a hugely important historical figure'. A claim hard to disagree with considering his presence in the media for almost three decades, firstly with the years of suspicion about who this top mole in the IRA might be and, then, even more pronounced after he was outed twenty years ago.

O'Rawe spoke to a range of former IRA volunteers for the work. He clearly managed to get on the inside track. Given the state security services' determination to monopolise the narrative and its penchant for pursuing those who refuse to allow it to do so by offering their own, it is understandable why O'Rawe's voices should chose anonymity. Those of us familiar with the terrain are savvy enough to grasp the authenticity behind the screen. Some of those with a Derry accent posed huge questions about the trustworthiness of former IRA chief of staff Martin McGuinness. O'Rawe declines to pass judgement on the matter but by the sheer act of allowing misgivings to be aired, he has invited the question: did McGuinness do what it said on his tin or was there something more sinister at play? It is a can Sinn Fein will want kicked down the road for some time to come. 

The author makes a point about the noncombatants who also spoke to him. They too wanted to conceal their identity such was the 'power and fear' that Scap had exercised over the nationalist community. 

Former IRA volunteers who agreed to cooperate with the book made a valuable contribution to a venture that was very much 'not a feel-good story.' When the reader is confronted with the brutal torture that the Internal Security Unit meted out to a man it had in its custody for a time, Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib leap to mind. Had he not held out Kenova would this week be reporting to his family. There comes with this account a grim realisation often pointed out by Denis Faul during his sermons to the blanket protestors in the H Blocks that man's worst fate is to fall into the hands of man.

O'Rawe, never a shrinking violet, when it comes to putting matters on the record, has done both republican historiography and public understanding an immense service. When many others preferred silence over candour he came up to the plate. Unfortunately, it is a sad reflection of the nature of truth recovery that people will feel they have obtained more from reading this book than they have from perusing the Kenova Report.

Read it and weep. 

Richard O'Rawe, 2023, Stakeknife's Dirty War: The Inside Story of Scappaticci, the IRA's Nutting Squad and the British Spooks Who Ran the War. Merrion Press. ISBN-13: ‎978-1785374470.

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Stakeknife's Dirty War

Anthony McIntyre ☠  In less than an hour's time I will leave the warmth of the home for the bitter chill of  West Street to stand with others in ongoing opposition to genocide in Gaza. 


It is a weekly event at which Stephanie Kirwan and others remind us from a human rights perspective of our obligations to the besieged people of Gaza now in the fifth month's of Israel's Blitzkrieg. Every so often a religious lunatic comes past and shouts something about God being king and that we should not be desecrating his hallowed ground by standing in solidarity with his supposed creatures. During the week as I passed the church somebody moved to hand me a leaflet. I shook my head and told him I didn't want it. He too started shouting that God is king. The middle finger to all of that no hate like Christian love. Fortunately, others with hearts not driven by hate theology are much more empathetic to the besieged Gazans.

Earlier this week the Israeli-American double act morphed into an incongruous double standard. If Joe Biden thought he was being a stand up comedian, even he in his demented state should either have known or been advised that the site of genocide is not the place to perform comedy. Dropping aid from the skies to starving Gazans while at the same time providing bombs for Nazi Israel to drop from the same skies, is an absurdity that devalues Western values even more than the depreciation such values have undergone already during the war. Beside killing five of the people the aid bombs were meant to save - and their deaths cannot be regarded by any stetch of the imagination as the result of friendly fire but rather of face-saving hypocrisy - it was nothing other than a PR stunt designed to give a facelift to the image of US foreign policy, damaged so badly over its arms for genocide policy.

Israel's starvation policy which was endorsed last October by the the leader of the British Labour Party, Sir Keir Starver, has now reached the point where the images coming out of Gaza immediately remind us of what existed in the Nazi death camps.


The savagery and brutality of the Kapo state, with its penchant for child murder, has left many thinking that it constitutes the most vile regime of our day. That may or may not be true but that it stands accused of genocide in the International Court of Justice puts it in the uniquely evil typology.

So as I prepare to leave the house to stand with others like Stephanie Kirwan, Brian Condra - who has a voice that booms like Brian Blessed's and requires no loudhailer - Rosie Condra, Bobby McCormack, and all those others who turn up each Saturday in solidarity, the Auschwitz-like image of a dead child in Gaza prompts me to recite the words of Alon Mizrahi:

There is one child in Gaza your resolve can save. Just one. Think of him, or her. This will give you strength. This is what I do. There is one child my not despairing can save, and I am never letting that child down.

We stand on the steps to save a child.

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Images Of Auschwitz From Gaza

Anthony McIntyre ⚽ After the first two games of the new season, the Drogs were not on the ropes but on the canvas.


The sign of a true fighter is an ability to get up when they know they can't. The Wizards of Weaver dragged themselves back up with a 2-1 victory over Bohemians on home turf on Monday night, placing Drogheda in 7th place with rivals Dundalk firmly planted three spots below at the bottom of the table after a crushing home defeat.

We were a bit out of kilter this time around. A Monday evening fixture just doesn't have that same lift. It seemed even more subdued by the absence of travelling fans, Bohs supporters banned over flares used at matches. Some of their number were launching them like a Stalin's organ at the cup final in November. Not a pleasant spectacle for those genuinely in the stadium for the soccer.

We arrived quite early as Paddy's son was to take part in a half time exhibition so had to be at the ground well ahead of kickoff.  With time on our hands we headed off to the Windmill adjacent to the ground for a quick pint, mine of the alcoholic variety, before taking our seats. It was my first time in the bar. Its pleasant atmosphere and decorous lay out will undoubtedly tempt me back. It was a windswept night with frequent gusts catching the rain so even though we grabbed seats deeper into the stand than our normal, our legs were quite damp and chilled long before the kickoff. Luckily I had recently bought a dedicated coat for winter games which prevented any further dissipation of what little heat I managed to conserve. Aided by a hip flask of brandy to boot.

Prior to the kick off wreaths were laid on the pitch to the non-sound of a minute's silence in memory of Brendan Penrose, a kitman who had a long association with the club. The Ultras paid their own tribute to both him and lifelong Drogs supporter Mattie Kealey. Not a human voice could be heard. 

For Bohs, it was a disappointing affair. No fans, no points just about sums up their fortunes. All flare no flair. While the Drogs were easily the better side their ability to turn control of the game into a clear victory was limited. The first goal came courtesy of a Bohs man who had the misfortune of heading the ball into his own net. There was a certain irony in that because the very reason that Bohs fans were prohibited from attending the game was that the flare throwers had scored an own goal as well - they hit their own player with the incendiary projectile ten days earlier while playing St Patrick's Athletic. 

Own goals happen but Drogheda's second should never have got through the defence. A free kick from near enough the centre circle evaded everybody and ended up in the back of the Bohs net. Piss poor defending by the Dublin side. Keeper Kacper was certainly no grasper as he stood idly by while the goal-bound free kick drifted into the net. Paddy's son put up a more spirited fight between the sticks during the half time interlude. He certainly would have done more than gaze at a floated free, as if it were some exotic bird to be admired but not touched.


Four times last season Bohs had put the Drogs to the sword but this time they fell on their own. And with Dundalk thoroughly trounced up at Oriel Park by Sligo Rovers - a top flight home defeat unlike any other in my lifetime - it was a great climax to a day in which the Weaver men bought back the ground from the FAI. Booty that John Delaney didn't get to make off with.
 
Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Drogs ⚽ Bohs ⚽ Seventh

Anthony McIntyre ⚽ Not long in the door from The Thatch in Drogheda where we watched the Carabao Cup final.


While not exactly three sheets to the wind, enough was supped to make it anything but a sober experience. I definitely would not pass a breathalyzer. But anybody who would want to pass one on cup final day must lead a mundane existence.

What we call our cup final squad - myself, my son Ronan, Paddy and his son Jason - met in the pub which serves up a great Guinness. I started on it but switched to Jack to celebrate the win by Liverpool.

As cup finals go it was a riveting game. I got a text from my sister close to the finish saying how edgy she was. The paradox at the heart of it was that while Liverpool deserved to win, Chelsea did not deserve to lose. My joy at Liverpool's victory was tempered by my sympathy for Chelsea. I thought of my friend Aine Fox, and the Quiller Steve R. My memory took me back to the H Blocks where Tommy Loughlin was a Chelsea stalwart.

Yet it was theirs to win. They had a goal disallowed, hit the post, should have scored when it seemed harder to miss, yet for some inexplicable reason failed to come out in extra time when it appeared Liverpool might not have the legs for another thirty minutes.

Pre-match, I didn't give Liverpool a snowball's chance in hell. In their last three cup finals they failed to manage a single goal in open play, relying on penalties to win two of them. It looked as if it was heading that way today. I had told Paddy that if it went to spot kicks after a scoreless draw I would not watch them. While a soccer solution to the draw problem it seems to devalue the beautiful game. One or two in the course of a match is fine but to have a competition decided by one sucks. I would have opted for a Chelsea victory rather than see it go to penalties.

As Tsimikas was about to take his corner deep into extra time I told my son to hold on until the penalties before getting another round. But lightening struck Chelsea and silver fell from the skies into the lap of Liverpool, courtesy of a well placed header by the captain Virgil Van Dijk.

It could all so easily have been a different outcome. Liverpool stepped out on the Wembley turf seriously under strength, but left with arms strong enough to hold aloft the trophy. With so many key players out injured their lineup looked like a chessboard where one side only had pawns. A sure silverware opportunity for the London side. With all the forwards out those who stepped into a makeshift team did the business, and pawns were promoted to queens. Even with Gravenberch substituted after a heavy tackle the tactical choice by Klopp of pushing Bradley up front and placing Gomes in the Tyrone man's vacated spot at the back prevented the equilibrium going out of the team like air from a deflated balloon.


In the end the deflation was Chelsea's. Their fans in the bar were gutted but one of them agreed to take a photo of the four of us. The spirit of soccer as it should be.

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Carabao

Anthony McIntyre ⚽ This was my first time watching Waterford.


They came, they saw, they humiliated Drogheda United with an outcome that places either side at opposite ends of the table. Waterford are now perched on top while the Drogs root around at the bottom. 

My daughter's 23rd birthday, I invited her along for what I hoped was a birthday treat. I could now face a charge of exposing her to maltreatment. The Drogs truly were that bad. After a promising start via a high press, they seemed in control of the game, then succumbed to a blistering display from Waterford who simply ran them off the park. 

When the Drogs took the lead, delighting the fans with a well worked Zishim Bawa strike, myself and Paddy agreed that there was only one winner. Less than two minutes had passed before the score was level through a fortunate header in the midst of poor defending. By no means a stunning goal it had the effect of a stun grenade, Rattled, the heads of the Drogs seemed to drop, nobody moving to rouse the deflated eleven. Nevertheless, I agreed with Paddy when he felt that there were plenty of goals left in this one. While that proved true they were all for the opposition, with the exception of a well executed Drog goal that was ruled offside. Darragh Leahy, as he did two seasons back when playing for Dundalk, netted a brace for the visitors.

This is the worst Drogheda performance I have attended. Only in the first fifteen minutes did they look compact and organised. That was the time it took Waterford to settle, after which it was all one way traffic. The Weaver men had lost their wizardry and the half time pep talk failed to prevent them looking dishevelled and disorganised. Captain Gary Deegan, uncertain how to knit together into a soccer tapestry the loose threads his team presented themselves as. What he ended up with was not a tight fabric but a loose net that opponents just swam through.


Two matches into the new season, the Drogs have no points, having also been defeated in the opening away clash with Derry. Fans expected that after the penalty miss at the Brandywell, the team would lick its wounds and put on an extravaganza against newly promoted Waterford with which to launch their home campaign. Instead they played like a nervous away side, the only fire coming from the flares that the fans periodically launched from both sides of the ground.

When my daughter and her boyfriend got up to leave, there was still about 15 minutes left. They politely said they could make an earlier bus to Dublin. What they really meant, I think, was that there was no point in hanging around to experience even more disappointment on what should have been a rewarding day for her.  At least they could go somewhere whereas the Drogs were going nowhere. 

Well, they do have somewhere else to go next week - to Shamrock Rovers, a daunting prospect, after which they are likely to find themselves bottom of the table with no points, stirring fears of a season long relegation battle.

On the ninety minute mark we vacated our own seats. Seems the only thing fixed at Weaver Park in close season was the leak in the roof. 
 
Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Drogs ⚽ Waterford ⚽ Birthday Blues

Anthony McIntyre ☠ On consecutive days, last week, two events were staged in support of Palestinians subject to Israeli genocide in the Gaza Strip.


The first was a music gig organised by Drogheda Stands With Palestine, the proceeds from which are to go to the Palestinian Red Cross Society. As the Israeli Luftwaffe has destroyed the health system in Occupied Gaza, it is vital that funds reach the medics battling to preserve life in the face of the Israeli determination to end it. The doors had to be closed early as the venue was packed. The MC was Joanna Byrne who introduced keynote speaker Stephanie Kirwan. Both women praised the people of Drogheda for consistently showing solidarity with the beleaguered citizens of Gaza and urged people not to give up. Stephanie Kirwan spoke about putting her baby daughter to bed each evening and not being able to erase the images of dead Palestinian infants from her mind. It is a sentiment I can identify with as I increasingly find my mind wandering to Gaza each time I see young children tagging alongside their mums in town.

The following day Drogheda Stands With Palestine staged its weekly vigil in front of the Catholic Church in West Street. Some on the morning after the night before didn't feel up to standing for anything, preferring to have assumed the prone position in bed to nurse a hangover. Yet they came. Some locals have grumbled that a church is not an appropriate place for this type of vigil. It very much is an appropriate place. The vigil is not a protest against the Church. The Catholic Church advocates world peace and its churches, if they are to have any value, should be sanctuaries from violence. On the steps of the church each Saturday peace is preached. War contaminates a church, not peace. 


One of the speakers, Bobby McCormack, made the point that despite the weekly vigil other than Drogheda Life, the local media take zero interest in what is happening below their noses. For supposed news hounds their sense of smell is not that good. He called on people to write to the editors of the papers who have turned a blind eye. 

Just before Christmas an Israeli SS officer and a number of terrorist colleagues were killed when Palestinian resistance fighters ambushed their HQ. Tomer Grinberg had acquired a reputation for being a motivational speaker, having inspired the Einsatzgruppen under his command to kill Gazans. Pictures later emerged of Grinberg holding his three year old daughter. He loved her and she him. Yet each day we hear harrowing details of the barbarism displayed towards the children of Gaza by these loving Israeli fathers. The name Hind Rajab became known internationally for terrible reasons. She was the six year old child who made an emergency call from the phone of her murdered parents after Israeli tanks had blasted the vehicle they were traveling in. The Einsatzgruppen then waited on the ambulance that came in a bid to rescue her. When it arrived both the paramedics and the child were murdered.

The sadistic mass murder of children has been described by fearless Israeli journalist Gideon Levy:

Israel is erasing generations in Gaza, and its soldiers are killing children in numbers competing with the cruellest of wars. This will not and cannot be forgotten. How can a people ever forget those who killed its children in such a manner? How can people of conscience around the world remain silent over such mass killing of children?

With almost 12000 children murdered, the resemblance to Babi Yar is striking.

A constant theme at vigils is the need to ask politicians when they do their election time doorstepping to explain where they stand on Gaza. Weekly, Brian Condra urges voters to keep this at the forefront of their minds. This seems vital at a time when many Irish politicians are queuing up in readiness for Genocide Joe's Jolly Junket on St Patrick's Day in Washington. President Biden has once again demonstrated his commitment to war on Gaza by continuing to send bombs to be used in an onslaught on Rafah which he claims is over the top. The American National Security Council spokesperson John Kirby's comments underscore the hypocrisy.

Our view is that any major military operation in Rafah at this time – under these circumstances with probably a-million-and-a-half civilians … without consideration for their safety – would be a disaster. And we would not support it . . . That’s where they were told to go” by Israel, he noted. Israel’s army previously ordered Palestinians throughout Gaza to head for Rafah, calling it a “safe zone”.

Yet in a Voltairean twist his logic, like Biden's, would appear to be: I don't agree with who you bomb but will defend to the death your right to bomb those baby bastards anyway.

Would murder on this scale be possible without US support?  The Israeli desire for genocide would undoubtedly exist but it would be much more difficult to put into effect without the US building the figurative gas chambers. 

There will be no votes from this home for any party that attends a Jolly Junket with those complicit in genocide. 
 
Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Drogheda Stands With Palestine

Anthony McIntyre ⚽ What a huge disappointment.


A bottle of Jack Daniels from Les might have dulled the ache, but only temporarily.

But Liverpool fans are so used to it by this stage. The 7-0 thrashing of Manchester United last season immediately followed by a 1-0 defeat to Bournemouth illustrated the feast to famine nature of the team. The midweek 4-1 routing of Chelsea seemed to herald that the transformation of Klopp's side was complete. Now it's back to Roy Hodgson days. 

I have always said to my son that he will have the honour, if he calls it that, to dispose of my ashes in the Mersey when the time comes so that he can think of me figuratively listening to the Anfield roar. If they continue to play like they did on Sunday, there will be little for fans to roar about, more an emittance of a collective groan.

The five of us from the union gathered in the Tolka House to watch the game. Shelley arrived late but she didn't miss much. Kitted out from head to foot in Liverpool regalia, I felt like the skunk at the wedding feast after the match. There was this sense of being stared at by everybody in the bar wondering who the fool was - much as if I was naked. Even the booze and the banter failed to firewall me to the extent required.


Four words can sum up this performance - Horrible, hopeless, hapless, hideous. A headline could as readily have been lifted from the great Laurent Binet novel HHhH.

Allison who always gives me palpitations as he moves to play out from his goal line was responsible for the second and third goals. Although he later said he should have just cleared it, Virgil Van Dijk rightly left responsibility to the keeper to clear. The big Brazilian behaved as if he had a glimpse of Jesus as he ran out from his line and rushed to embrace him missing the ball as he proclaimed Hallelujah, leaving Martinelli a tap in that even Darwin Núñez could not possibly have hit the woodwork with. The Flying Dutchman  most likely referred to Allison as something less kind than 'holy goalie' in the dressing room after the game. The second howler came when Allison seemed to be auditioning for the role of the Mersey tunnel - his legs so wide apart a ferry could have sailed through.

Paddy-Anthony-Andrew-Les

Roy Keane was right in his view that Liverpool defended like a pub team. Konate was stretched to the limit covering for those in front of him, particularly Gravenberch, and walked the plank after a second yellow card.  The midfield failed to create a single chance for Diogo Joto throughout the match. For a short while in the second half there was a sense that some of the Klopp half time magic was begining to show until Allison met Jesus. 

The title now seems Manchester City's to lose. Few would bet against them making it four in a row. They just need to win ever game and draw against Liverpool. If Klopp's men win every game and draw against Pep's side, the title still goes to Manchester. The safe money has to be on City steadying the ship for the home strait. There is small consolation in Liverpool running City to the wire just to become runner up. Anfield fans deserve better than to be nothing other than a pace setter for the Etihad side. 

Jurgen Klopp has been a great coach but no matter how skilful his artistry, carving from rotten wood does not produce an enduring sculpture. Style rarely compensates for stamina. 

Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.


Style Over Stamina

Anthony McIntyre ☠ There was an ironic backdrop to yesterday's Gaza solidarity vigil on Drogheda's West Street. 


Although we have gathered every Saturday at noon as a gesture of solidarity with the Palestinians subjected to Nazi-like genocide by the state of Israel, yesterday's turnout took place on International Holocaust Day.

This is a hugely symbolic date in the cultural calendar that serves to remind humanity of the millions of victims of Nazi atrocity. It would be untrue to assert - as Zionists often do - that the Holocaust was the worst crime ever committed in the history of humankind. The claim that the Holocaust is unrivalled in terms of atrocity is more a propagandist one than a statement of fact. Steven Pinker reminds us in his outstanding work The Better Angels Of Our Nature that genocide has more often been the norm of human history rather than the exception. In World War 2 the greatest crime committed was not the Holocaust but  the war of extermination in the East, a phenomenon described as  the complete annihilation of a state, a people or an ethnic minority through genocide. It claimed 27,000,000 victims.


The state of Israel manipulates the Holocaust for its own ends. It wilfully refuses to draw from the Holocaust the most powerful lesson it has to offer: that genocide must be abjured, never embraced. The Israeli state instead of respecting Holocaust victims emulates its Nazi perpetrators, all the while masking in the language of the Holocaust the genocide that it actively pursues. 

Many Jews are inspired by the victims of the gas chambers. They set their faces like flint against any attempt to repeat genocide. Never Again is actually an authentic statement for them. Conversely, for its part the Israeli government is inspired by those Jews who became Kapos and helped put fellow Jews in the gas chambers. When it pursues genocide with Himmler-like intensity, the obvious comparison it invites is that with the Nazis.
 

This is what makes the view of the International Court of Justice so toxic for the Kapo state. The court in holding that it is plausible to believe that Israel is committing genocide has demonstrated that the Kapo use of the Holocaust is now being exposed and confronted. Up until now the Kapos could inflict atrocity with impunity, and smear as antisemitic anyone daring to point out the Nazi resemblance. There was always special pleading made on their behalf, that they were the descendants of victims of the Holocaust rather than their ancestors being those Jewish Kapos that helped inflict it. Now the ICJ has ushered in a damning logic that makes it absurd to shelter behind the Holocaust while perpetrating genocide. Medhi Hassan observes:

You can disagree with those who say there’s a genocide going on in Gaza. It’s a legal term/issue after all, open to interpretation & debate. What you can’t now do, thanks the ICJ today, is say that those who warn of genocide are being alarmist, dumb, dishonest, ‘meritless’, etc 

The Holocaust against the Jews was an abominable act. That is what made it vitally important that we  turn out on International Holocaust Day in defence of those currently being subjected to genocide. As was stated on social media:

Fantastic to hear the voices of lawyers, nurses and NGOs amongst the compassionate voices of activists and poets . . . 

When we gather in opposition to Israeli genocide against Palestinians on International Holocaust Day we stand in solidarity with the Jews of the Death camps and implacably against the Kapos who helped put them there. 
 
Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

For Gaza On International Holocaust Day

Anthony McIntyre ⚽The return of soccer to Weaver Park after the end of season interregnum was as welcome as it was noisy.


With the Ultras in full voice and some flares to boot, proclaiming that the boys are back in town, the Drogs are on the go again. There were probably not as many Ultras as usual but that will change come the season proper. Monday evening's pre-season Leinster Senior Cup clash with Bohemians Under 20s was a warm up for the real thing.

A season ticket, from a Christmas stocking, has me rearing and ready to go. I don't intend to miss any of the eighteen games at Weaver Park. I also hope to watch two away games against Sligo with my friend Alfie. The senior citizen free travel pass makes that sort of thing much less expensive.  With luck and Paddy's freedom to travel not circumscribed by work or other commitments, we might even make it to a few of the Dublin based fixtures. Earlier intentions of train hopping to Cork for a brace of away games were jettisoned due to Cork having been relegated to the first division last season.

While not a packed stadium for the Bohs clash, that hardly reflects a curb your enthusiasm perspective at play. Last week's turn out for Underdrogs was a statement of fan intent. Cometh the League cometh the fans.

Paddy was unable to make Monday night's match so I was Home Alone. I hadn't owned a football hat with a pom pom attached to it from the days when I was a very young Manchester City supporter. Until now, that is - another gift from the Christmas stocking. Normally, I would wear the Liverpool stuff but in Drogheda do what the Droghedians do. So in full colours, hip flask deep in pocket, I made my way across town on foot.

While some configuration of players from Dalymount Park have won the competition thirty three times, Monday was not their night with the Drogs emerging as 3-1 winners after a less than hard fought game. The Bohs were simply not on their game while Drogheda looked more at ease and composed. The last time I saw the Bohs, their senior side slumped to a cup final defeat against St Pat's, where they too failed to lift their game.

For the home side it was a chance to showcase four of their new signings from the start with an additional two being given a run out later on as substitutes. Jack Keaney and Frantz Pierrot, who turned out for last week's discussion in the TLT, featured in the starting line up. Two goals in three minutes halfway through the first half gave Drogheda a commanding lead which they never looked like relinquishing. Pierrot looks an exciting player, not easy to bully off the ball, scoring one from the penalty spot and hitting the post with another effort.

Drogs, seemingly overconfident eased up on the pedal to the metal after the break. With captain Gary Deegan being substituted there was a feeling that without his leadership the side is a bit rudderless. If fans were somewhat deflated by the pedestrian second half performance they soon had something to cheer about when the goal of the evening was stuck home by Matthew O’Brien, a rasping shot from outside the box.

A good beginning, let's hope they started as they mean to go on.
 
Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Drogs ⚽ Bohs ⚽ Home Alone

Anthony McIntyre 🎥 Local soccer in Ireland is on the up. 


That much seemed evident from the 600 viewers who turned up to watch Underdrogs at the TLT on a cold and icy Friday evening. I went along with my match day companion Paddy. It was well worth the tenner spent on the ticket. Value for money every which way. While we had a couple of pints in the venue bar, I successfully coaxed him to join me in the traditional hip flask ritual! He drives to games so never has the opportunity to imbibe, unless it is a cup final in Dublin which, last year, we journeyed to by train, neither of us candidates that day for passing a breathalyser. Not by a country mile.

For Christmas my wife gave me a Drogs hat and scarf which I was only too eager to wear. On the way out a woman with a Derry accent commented that I wouldn't happen to be a Drogheda supporter. It was an echo of what Kevin Keegan said to me at the Helix a few weeks ago when along with Paddy and Andrew, I stepped up to have my photo taken with the best player ever to turn out for the Anfield side. Decked out in Liverpool FC regalia the former European Footballer of the Year said it wasn't hard to know what team I supported! I sort of wear my sporting heart on my sleeve.

The short film directed by Conor McGuinness and Sean Matthews is about the recent history of Drogheda United, its woes and its wins, its fans and its future. Two years of hard work went into making the film, with over one hundred interviews conducted along the route. Prior to the showing, the packed out venue was treated to an onstage discussion, the speakers being coach Kevin Doherty, team captain Gary Deegan, and new signings, Frantz Pierrot and Jack Keaney. David Sheehan, the LMFM broadcaster, functioning more as an interlocuter than interviewer, was ideal for managing the exchange.

Featuring a few times in front of the camera was local councillor Joanna Byrne. It was pleasing to see her get the recognition for the effort she has put in to promoting the team. Her 'family bleed claret and blue.'  She had taken her first steps as a toddler on the pitch and even regaled the audience with tales of  going to games with various boyfriends. I have also stood on vigils for Gaza with her over the years, so have an affinity.

The film also gave a lot of time to local volunteers with the club which underscored one of the central themes being projected by the directors - Drogheda United is embedded within the community. While in need of a new stadium the current location, Weaver Park, speaks volumes about its place within the community. Easily accessible even to those walking to the game, it is a comfortable ten minutes by foot from the town centre. The theme music for the film also had a local character, being the work of local musician, composer and producer, Breifne Holohan.

Much of the footage focused on life behind the scenes in Drogs' second and third seasons back in the Premier division. On top of that the audience was treated to some of the great goals the Drogs had scored over the years.

Those who follow the Drogs will be familiar with Gary Deegan, still going strong at 36 and a firm favourite amongst young fans in particular who rally to have a selfie taken with him when the opportunity presents itself. Despite the years being in a constant tug of war with the fitness levels, which ultimately only the years can win, the captain still very much enjoys being a soccer player. Jack Keaney told the story of a brush with Gary Deegan while playing against him once for either Sligo or UCD in which he called him a granda! No doubt, the big centre back learned not to teach his granda how to suck eggs. 

A great night which saw the proceeds going to the Gary Kelly Cancer Support Centre. Unlike some of the games we have attended when the result went the wrong way, none came away disappointed. 
 
Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Underdrogs