In era of indifference, Irish public has rarely felt so disengaged with its national team

How do we think the Finnish advance scouts reported back to manager Markku Kanerva last Thursday morning when Hallgrimsson named his squad? ‘The reaction has been muted but the overriding emotion appears to be, em, delight — that Matt Doherty isn’t in there sir. Perhaps it’s an Irish thing?’

The Scandinavian mind might have been left slightly scrambled as the memes and GIFs rolled in heralding the dropping of Doherty, too nonchalant last time out but mostly nondescript across 47 caps, as some sort of salvation. Closer to home this was another moment of damning clarity: When the strongest sentiment to a new manager’s first true squad unveiling centres on a substitute-ish right back who’s not there, well, you’re in a bad place.

We know we’re in a bad place. We know and feel every nook and top corner of the bad place, may even be coming up on squatter’s rights in the bad place. Yet there’s something particularly dangerous about all that knowing. What was once creeping now coats the walls of the bad place: Irish indifference.

On the field there have, statistically, been worse periods for the Ireland men’s side. But not in the last half century. If cross-channel club football was invented in 1992, the international game here came to be four or five years earlier so, in much of our mind, this is the pit. Has the Irish public ever been so disengaged with its national team? Not for a middle-aged lifetime.

There have never been more ways to measure engagement. Certainly more now than during the miserable four-year winless run from 1968 to 1971. So take a most modern one: In the past week, the Twitter/X account of Ireland Football/FAI (a pair of very successful rebrands, it should be noted) has churned out 30-plus posts, the vast majority about Hallgrimsson’s squad being named, assembled, and making their way to Finland for the first of a Nations League road double-header, Athens next up.

The post that reached the most eyeballs, had the most interactions, all of those digital definitions of engagement? A throwback video to Shane Long’s winner against Germany nine years ago.

It was a shining moment of then, feasted upon in the darkness of now. Perhaps not to accentuate things, FAI social staff didn’t follow it up a day later with a hark back to James McClean’s 2018 World Cup qualifier winner against Wales seven years ago, another October surprise. That might have got people thinking, or worse again scrolling. But this is the thing about indifference, it stops one from taking those necessary steps back.

Since McClean’s strike in Cardiff in 2017, Ireland have claimed the following competitive wins: Gibraltar, Georgia, Gibraltar, Azerbaijan, Luxembourg, Scotland, Armenia, Gibraltar, Gibraltar. 

Examiner Sport is generous with word counts. This is not a squeezing of space but the full comprehensive list. Seven years, nine wins, 44% of them against Gibraltar and two (Scotland and Armenia) in the Nations League. Ultimately, three non-Gibraltar qualifier wins in seven years of suffering and waiting for a moment such as those provided by McClean or Long.

The damage wrought by the chaotic and calamitous leadership of the FAI has been all too well documented and explored, particularly so by Dion Fanning and John Fallon in this parish. But what felt like a forever truth was that the national team could rise above it, work around it just enough. The late Martin O’Neill era marked a slow dawning of our new truth.

The cult of the manager, one of the few easy-to-identify (if not analyse) traits of Irish football, papered over things until it couldn’t. Never was that truer than Stephen Kenny’s reign. As torturous and mortifying as Marc Canham and Jonathan Hill’s most recent managerial chase was, even in its worst moments it served as distraction. Perhaps the most deflating aspect of Hallgrimsson’s first two matches in nominal charge last month was the realisation that now we have a manager, we’ve no choice but to focus on the football again.

How many are focusing? In this age of distraction, how many are even half-watching? If it feels like fewer and fewer, the evidence would agree. TV viewership for competitive matches was down by more than 33% in 2022. Last year, when gifted a Euro 2024 qualification group that guaranteed four nights that felt big and meaty against France and Netherlands, there were 13 other sporting events which came in higher in the year’s most-watched broadcasts. The best performer was the home game against France, which barely scraped inside the top 20. No other Ireland match cracked the top 40. Even the guarantee of seeing a long-range screamer, admittedly from the opposition, hasn’t helped the slide.

This should all be deeply concerning to the FAI. Their president’s programme notes for Hallgrimsson’s utterly grim first match in charge called on Ireland fans to appeal to government figures for greater support for the game. Yet when given the option to hire a new CEO who may have helped bridge government relations, in the shape of Sarah Keane, they opted to stick with an inside hire. Rough financial times lie ahead with qualification for tournaments remaining the biggest financial salve.

They’re a cultural salve too. Six weeks spent in Germany this summer was a reminder of what makes football so intoxicating, badly needed in the suffocating avarice of the club game. Euro 2016 and even 2012 (for 20 minutes against Croatia) were salves for Ireland too, merciful reminders that the tunnel’s end justifies making it through the river of shit. Now we bob and list.

For all the over-analysis, we know the players are good enough for things not to have been this bad. What can
Hallgrimsson actually change between now and Sunday?

Nothing but maybe just something. He’s signalled that next year’s 2026 qualifiers are what matters most to him yet a moment to remind us why we should care would be helpful, even if it’s going to take so much more than that.

The hardest part of a loveless marriage is finding the romance again. Irish indifference feels like it’s taking hold.