Ireland 43 - England 13....yeah that feels good.

So with the result of this past Saturday, last week's defeat against France drops into obscure distant memory amidst loud choruses of "Fields of Athenry"....

After having been scolded by my flat-mate Siobhan (from Belfast) because I haven't yet been to O'Neill's Pub in Winchester, I decided that's where I'd go to see the big match. It worked out well cause I'd just spend the day working on a course-mate of mine's house that he's rebuilding (he lives in Winchester). I had been lead to believe by Siobhan that there would be loads of Irish there for the match, and although I rarely have been to Irish pubs while abroad I though if there ever was an occasion to be with other Irish people for a match, this was it.

The days leading up to the match, people kept asking me "what's the big deal about Croke Park?" If I'm stuck for time I'll usually just remind people that the last time there was such a big British contingency present in the stadium was a day now known as "bloody Sunday." If you've seen the film Michael Collins you'll remember this portrayed in the scene where the British tanks break into the middle of the pitch and open fire on the players and crowd.

It's even more than that though isn't it. Even for myself, someone who's barely picked up a hurley except for in P.E., never been to a GAA match let alone in Croke park, and a child of immigrants, there was an odd tension in me at the thought of hearing "God Save the Queen" sung there. Croke Park and the GAA which owns it is a remaining symbol of Irish independence. The GAA didn't used to allow its members to play other "foreign" sports such as football and rugby, so there were many mixed emotions leading up to this Ireland - England rugby match. I seriously thank God, for everyone's sake, that Ireland won.

When I walked into O'Neill's pub, I was sadly dissapointed, yet not terribly surprised. It was jam packed with England supporters drinking Guinness. There was a small Irish group, dressed in green and crowded in a corner. We did break into a few choruses, and managed to make the best of a greatly diminished atmosphere, but there was really nothing that could wipe the smiles of our faces that night. I have to say, isn't it slightly ironic that a foreign-English sport, that used to be outlawed by the GAA is now the only international sport that we play where it represents a united Ireland? I love it.